Moo ha ha , tee hee

   I have been told that people think I'm funny. Thankfully, only one was my mother. I have been trying to figure out what to do with this alleged "gift". This has been going on for a while, me floundering in mid life, that is. The humor thing has been going on since I was a kid. I loved mad libs in grade school and watched Mel Brooks movies as I got older. My father was probably the biggest smart-ass I knew. We kid's grew up with dear old Dad singing "Happy birthday to you, you escaped from the zoo, you look like a monkey, and you smell like one, too". I swear I thought that was how it was sung until around age 8.
   A steady diet of Bugs Bunny was also part of the program, although I think that was as much because the owner of the television was a fan as anything. I recently turned 50 and whenever I think about bitching about that fact too much, his words come back to me. "It could be worse, you could have a kid your age. " I read a joke that says what doesn't kill you gives you  unhealthy coping mechanisms and a warped sense of humor. Throw in a family history of depression and I think you've got a recipe for sarcasm. I should also point out that not only are we Polish people Not a slender race, we have no filters.
    My experiences as a kid were largely observational. It's also funny to think that as a Catholic family, my parents may have taken the old fashioned marriage vow that mentioned to "love, honor, and obey". My mother was 19 when she got married and claims that she didn't speak English at the time and so didn't understand what was going on. If my father expected any form of "obey" out of my mother, he was quickly disabused of that notion. I watched my parents function as best they could with little money and an unhappy marriage but we kids were of the seen and seldom herd variety.
   My own offspring has the luxury of being heard and she's inherited our family's capacity for humor and sarcasm. We've had a friend who warned us "the tape recorder is always on" you need to be careful about what you say around your kid. It surprises me how she manages to use what she hears appropriately. I can remember playing Candyland with her at age 4. Typically, I was not one to play any game aggressively with her but I also don't let her win. This particular time, she was winning until she selected a card that sent her back to start. She looked at her card and said "I got totally hosed!".  It came back to haunt me early, and it hasn't stopped yet.

The big 5 oy!

   It finally happened. I recently had THAT birthday. In the weeks leading up to it the question was to party or not to party. Truthfully, I felt funny asking my husband to throw a big bash when he is currently unemployed. We decided on a small gathering of some good friends at a nice diner. It wasn't easy since it was Father's Day weekend. The day I was born, my mother told me they had to call the doctor away from his family. I've been hearing "Couldn't you just get me a tie?", ever since. I was happy and grateful to see our friends were able to be there. They even ordered me a birthday cake, no gag candles included. I also received a wonderful wine basket from one friend and a pretty glass to drink it in from someone else.
    You could say though, (warning - mush alert!) the best gift I got was the reminder of family. Years ago I learned that you really can't define family by biology. People just don't live long enough or behave well enough for that. When I looked around the diner table, I felt slightly less scared of my own mortality or maybe just plain loved. The fun problem of turning my age is that cosmic reminder that "you could be next!" as the supply of older relatives dwindle. Oh well, I figured we had a nice dinner with a few good friends and that was enough. I had no idea I was wrong.
    The following week was spent preparing for vacation at the beach. My daughter finished school and I spent that week cleaning, packing, getting teacher thank yous together, and wrapping my brain around the idea that I am seriously fifty. Going away is like small scale version of the holidays. There's a lot of anticipation and work and then it flies by and you feel let down when it's all over.
   We were blessed with another great week at the beach and the worst thing we had to handle was a sunburn. The drive home was largely uneventful except for the GPS taking us off a wrong exit and we pulled into our driveway tired, loaded down and slightly carsick. Our garage doors hadn't been working for weeks so I thought nothing of it when I had to get out of the car to let us into our garage. As we pulled in though, I was wondering if there was something big or weird in our garage, although I Couldn't imagine what.
   During the vacation, we had talked to my mom who had said something odd. She asked my husband where his car keys were and said our friend Cindy needed his car out of our garage. Normal, intelligent humans would have put two and two together at that point but no, some of us are still sharp as a bowling ball. I asked my husband why my mom would ask such a thing and he said,"I have no idea why she said that, maybe she's just tired" - and I BOUGHT THAT! Dear reader, if you ever throw a surprise party for someone, choose an extremely dense victim and all will be well. That did have me scratching my head but rather than act on the impulse to investigate, for some reason, I just went back to my jigsaw puzzle.
   Later, on the trip home, my husband took the wrong exit and damn near had a cow! What's even funnier is that I flat out said "I'm not late for anything", not knowing I was dead wrong! Since our garage doors had not been working for weeks, it wasn't remotely odd when I had to get out to go in to hit the button for my side of the door. What was odd was seeing my mother's car on our street. I thought "She's watering our plants today??", but we're home now. See previous paragraph about dense victims.
    Not only was my house packed with people whose cars I did not see, the place was decorated, too! Surprise was an understatement! My girlfriend had great decorations that said Vintage Vixen on them and best of all, the biggest container of sangria I'd ever seen. If you have to get older I Couldn't have asked for better company to do it with, but next birthday, I think I'll go a little easier on the sangria.

The big change

  This is the first summer in who knows how many presidents  that my husband and I are both home.  This is also the summer that yours truly hits the big 5-OH (crap!). I certainly don't feel like I'm that old. What's interesting about it is that my spouse seems to have launched a one man campaign to be extra nice to me. I think he's trying to cushion the blow. My father was famous for saying it could be worse, you could have a kid your age. Believe me, there's no comeback for that one. I've tried. We got to run an errand together without offspring  and I got a brief flashback of life before child.
   It's like getting a smartphone, you get pretty spoiled pretty quickly. We are also lucky that we can afford a Summer camp this year so that even though school is out, hopefully we can still have some grown up time together before he finds another job. Having the spouse home is also letting me get to accomplish more without worrying about getting home in time to pick up her majesty on time. We have sort of been living like roommates for the last several years, which was really bugging me.  After almost sixteen years of marriage, I'm glad to have the chance to remember why the hell we got married in the first place.
   I have mentioned previously that I try to never stop a man from voluntarily cleaning anything. The same holds true for repairs. While I am enjoying my spouse's unemployment mostly, I can't help but wonder if it isn't starting to get to him. It's been a little over two weeks since his job ended and he has more than kept himself busy, and not just obsessively job hunting. Good for him!, and you're correct. It is good for him. I just didn't understand how necessary it was for him to keep busy. Truthfully, I expected him to get depressed and veg out for a while. Instead he seems to be pressuring himself to get a plethora of things done in a day. Is it possible to miss stress?!
   My guess is the lack of routine is very disconcerting. We are all of us creatures of habit, after all. When you've been doing the same thing for over ten years and then suddenly you're not, it can feel like hitting a brick wall, even when you know it's coming. It occurred to me that even though I'm unemployed I do have my own general routines that, in a sense, feel like a job. It could be that this huge shake up will be good for us all. I hope to get my husband back, our daughter will see more of her dad whether she likes it or not and maybe, just maybe, we will actually find time to enjoy life. Let's not get nuts!

Attack of the Happy Holidaze?!

   It is that magical time of year again! Fall is in the air and retailers are knee deep in their pumpkin spice peppermint money grab. Holiday music before Halloween makes me want to stick a broomstick in my eye. I understand why rich people disappear to a tropical island for the winter. What's a nonlottery winner to do? (Personally, I think if I could market some Merry Hallothankmas cards I'd fix that money issue, but I digress.) I could pretend I'm in the tropics but I don't think the dirt on my kitchen floor would pass for sand and it's too cold for flip flops.
    One disaster at a time is the mantra at my house, despite the fact that it feels like I'm pushing back a wall of pudding. Tempus, the bastard, keeps "fugiting" and faster than I can sneeze, Halloween is in my rearview. Should I have started trying to enjoy fall in September? It's hard to think of falling leaves when you're still wearing shorts. By the time the weather started to feel like I should consider some apple cider, egg nog hit the store shelves! How did I manage to miss the fall? Since there's no use crying over spilled cider (certainly cider without a shot of Apple whiskey, but there I go again) my best bet is to focus on what's in front of me before I miss that, too.
   The bonus advantage to trying to stay in the present not thinking about the dreaded Holiday aftermath that tends to hit me like a freight train in January. My solution to this is to create cheap excuses to get people together without the decorations or cards. I admit this is still a struggle for me. Things go easier when you plan ahead, don't they? Maybe I could find a pilgrim hat that would fit my Easter Bunny statue, but I think I'd be better off eating my pumpkin pie slowly. Duck! Here comes another one!
    Happy Holidays to all, every friggin' one (holiday, that is)!

Are we done yet?

   Welcome to early November. It's Halloween again! We have made the mistake of having our television on. Every four seconds, it seems, there's another commercial on for some candidate we're sick of hearing about. Even my oblivious ten year old daughter has noticed that all these commercials ever seem say is, "The other guy's a fart face, vote for me." I'm also beginning to think the networks must think we're senile or two and a half, because of the endless repetition. If there was a network out there that would boycott political ads from mid October until after the election, I think they'd make a mint.
    I am once again, like everyone else, forced to hold my nose and select the least amount of evil I can find. This was the first midterm election I voted on in years. I normally did not care but it seems the insanity in Washington was too much for even me to handle. I prefer my craziness to skew more toward the middle if possible. Fortunately, it turns out that the rest of the country felt the same way and people were voting in droves. I guess this was a somewhat hopeful sign that my fellow citizens still give a rat's ass. It also must be pretty bad for people to put their remotes down long enough to vote, too.
   Where would we get information about candidates if we don't have commercials? If I could indulge in a fantasy here, I would schedule debates. Since we live in a short attention span world, I'd also keep them short, like 15 minutes in a series of three. I'd like to see if these clowns could string an intelligent sentence together. It would also help to see if they were smart enough to understand how to best make use of your time to make a point. Regrettably, that still doesn't seem to stop some scary creatures from getting elected but I figure hope springs eternal.
    Once the election is over, of course, you have the ad nauseam analysis by various pundits. This year is even worse, in my humble opinion, due to the incessant delusional crowing by the commander in chief. I have done my best to avoid the major networks once I've heard the weather. We get our televisions back by mid November but it leaves me wondering about the rest of the year. Why does it seem that elected officials disappear once elected? Don't all employees get performance reviews during the year? Why not these guys?

Halloween facebook blues

  Halloween approaches, as of this writing. I am knee deep in the costume preparation process for our not so little princess. This year we are approaching the realm of cosplay with mom's creativity being pushed to the limit  What is cosplay?  My best guess is that it's Halloween for grownup nerds. People make costumes modeled after comic book, sci-fi, or video game characters and every so often leave their parents' basements to have conventions. It also means that my daughter wants to wear a costume that you can't purchase online without a second mortgage.
    Just when things were going reasonably well, enter Facebook to really louse up your day! I have mentioned before that I have a love hate relationship with social media. Mostly, I'm in it for the dog memes. The problem for me this year hit when I happened to see a post with my daughter's best buddy in their Haaloween outfits, worn a bit early for a school dance. It bugged me because one of the girls wore my daughter's first choice of costume and I have no idea how they found it without selling stock. These three kids typically go trick or treating together, so now what?
   It's raining guilt! We should have had another kid. I should find her more friends. We should have bought an expensive outfit online. My poor kid is a third wheel. Here's where a bit of perspective comes in handy. My daughter knew this was coming. I knew I was disappointed but I wondered how she felt. Boundaries are quite helpful, aren't they? By the way, we are only talking about one night. When I mentioned that I saw the picture, she took it just fine and said she would just be another creature from the game. Yay offspring!!!
    My daughter surprised me by handling this better than I did. Nonetheless, I felt like some sort of gauntlet was thrown. My mommy ego decided that she was going to be the best looking creature I could make her. This is just the latest in a long string of projects in which my creativity gets pushed to its limits. I've been lucky in that so far, I've been able to find most of what she requires through our local Goodwill, dollar store, and stolen ideas from the internet. Mostly, like everything else I stress over, this will fly by and in the end, it's really all about the candy.
   Happy Halloween, dear reader. I don't even want to think about her costume for next year. I think I'll go out as a drunk.

More adjustments

  Welcome to Summer, yay! or something. This is the first summer in recorded human history when both of us are home. It is wierd and in a good way, mostly. My routine hasn't changed too much except that I am getting more help now and I admit I'm  enjoying it. I also need to remember that this is temporary and not let myself get "too spoiled". Fortunately, school is still in session, as of this writing, and my spouse now gets to see the "joy of homework". He also gets to remember how much is involved in taking care of our yard, another reason mommy curses. I still can't wrap my head around the idea of gardening as a "pleasurable hobby". Who are these masochists?!
   This from a person who gets up stupid early in the morning to go to the gym. I guess we all pick our poisons. It's going to be a busy Summer to be sure and for once I  won't  feel like I'm dealing with running most of the show myself. It won't be easy picking priorities since we don't know how long this two parent home thing will last so I want to make the most of it. Mostly, I'm glad to have more access to double teaming our stubbornly addicted video game addict on an as needed basis.
   Some things aren't that hard for Daddy though, which makes me a bit jealous. Our daughter gets up in the morning for him a little better than mommy, for example. I wonder if she's just showing off for him, but that's probably a grown up concept. Getting up in the morning was never my forte, anyway. We are currently expecting Daddy to be only home for the Summer, give or take, so he did dodge the majority of the homework nightmare. Our daughter will still have to get up for camp but when it's not school, we get a little more cooperation. Notice I said a "little" more.
   Daddy also gets to find out how much there is to catch up on around the house. We've been in our home for over ten years and there are projects around here that were so low on the totem pole, they fell off. My window treatments, for example, could best be described as "almost groovy". I have hopes that we can get some much needed things done while we still live here. The last house never looked so good until it was listed. Still, these are also the family time years, we will plenty of time for painting after our daughter wants nothing to do with us.
   The trick is being smart enough to make time for that, too. UNO, anyone?

The thrill of the hunt???

  It finally happened. After fourteen years with the same company, my spouse quit his job. I am actually surprised he finally did it. He's complained for years, tolerated phone calls on his cell phone on, nights, weekends, holidays, and vacations; and put in way more than forty hours in any given week. Finally, the company was bought out and a series of layoffs ensued. People were leaving in droves. He even put up with a large pay cut to keep his job. What was the straw that broke the camel's back? My belief is that there were two things, one he married and the other he fathered.
  I decided to  drag him to marriage counseling because I was pretty much at my wits end. I am not very good at subtlety, which is ok, since he's pretty obtuse. What's not ok is my lack of tact, so I called in the cavalry. There's no polite way to say "I'm contemplating a divorce, how's your day going?" Like any normal guy, he found this upsetting. The other reason is now almost ten years old and finishing the fourth grade. We had her tested officially for Add and as part of the initial interview process, the specialist noted that she is "not close to her father". For some reason, my husband took this personally.
   "I'm a weekend Dad!" he said. I'm all for more Daddy and daughter time. I think this was just the result of me naturally being home as a stay at home parent.  Truthfully, I will be looking forward to getting some bonus help around the house. It will also come in handy for other things like doctor's appointments and the summer.
   Things have to get pretty bad at a person's job for him to quit without another one lined up. When he informed me that he'd been having chest pains at work on top of this, I knew this qualified. We were lucky that we were never the sort to live from paycheck to paycheck. Thankfully, after some harassment, he got himself checked out by our family doctor, who informed him it was stress related.
   What's weird is now we, or mostly, he is dealing with a different kind of stress. On his last day at work, his colleagues told him he looked happier than he had in months. Being at home now, I think, has left him feeling irritable. It's going to be an adjustment for all of us. Personally, I can see plenty of upsides. He needs to get reacquainted with his daughter, and his wife, who, incidentally, could always use a hand dealing with said daughter. He is also going to have to figure out who he is now. How much of your identity, dear reader, is tied to your job, and how do you handle it when it's not there anymore?

A question for the ages....

    People that know me know that I am late for just about everything. I do try, I really do, but for some reason, I just never seem to pull off the punctuality thing. I'm beginning to think I should just change my name to A.L. , as in always late. My daughter needs to be at school by 8:40 am in our district. This is a monumental struggle for AL and her faithful sidekick, Frankenbunny. Just getting her majesty awake is right up there with poking a bear with a stick. (This is mostly my DNA.) I make a point of never entering the cave until at least 1 cup of coffee (by "cup" I mean vat) has been drained. Speaking of drained, I also have to get my own sorry butt dressed first.
   I have not sunk to the level of yoga pants and slippers but I have left the house without brushing my hair. (Fairness requires me to point out here that there will be yoga pants days no matter what you do. Hopefully, they will be occasional rather than the norm.) Thankfully, I no longer park the car and walk my daughter to the door. This does leave me the luxury of looking as scary as I need to since I'm not  getting out of my car. Recently, the offspring and I had one of those Monday part 12 mornings.
  The time crunch was mostly my fault. I made the mistake of trying to read to her in the morning and burned 15 minutes we really didn't have. Nonetheless, I managed to get her majesty dressed, her hair brushed, lunch assembled, and even threw a breakfast together. I was actually somewhat proud of myself.  We get in my car, I hand over the tea and toast and I get "Why were there no Froot Loops?". I'm  pretty sure if I had responded with something like "I left my cape and phone booth in my other pants" I would have gotten blank stare number 48 for that morning. I had to simply inform the offspring that I was in a hurry. We've only been scrambling out the door every morning for well over the last six months and I have to inform her there's a time crunch. This is another fun part of living with Adhd on top of my DNA. Clearly, detective work is not in this kid's future.
   Somehow, we manage to make it to school on time, by the skin of our teeth. This is true as far as I know, pending any discoveries of a cache of late slips.
   I have read that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I beg to differ, it's really parenting and expecting gratitude anywhere in the first couple of decades, at least! Just ask your own parents "Why were there no Froot Loops?".

Warning labels, please

  I've  noticed that there are plenty of books out there about parenthood. There's a whole series of what to expect books that warn people about what's coming their way. What I'm wondering about is what about being married, or even just living together? Did I miss that party? I'm a huge fan of self help books and at fifteen years in, I could still use a hand. It would have been nice to have some advanced warning before I took the plunge. There are plenty of books out there once you're knee deep or having clawed your way out but what about beforehand?
    I don't know if it would have made any difference for me personally but there are a few things I feel should be documented for when my daughter gets older. Being married gives you an immediate sneak peek at parenting. Those who have been with a grown man with a cold understand what I mean. One should also be on the lookout for signs of add or possibly "selective deafness".  Try to lose the word "should" from your vocabulary. I still struggle with this. Yes, men are obtuse creatures, yes, you do have to point out what "should" be obvious. Knowing this going in can help take the stress off.
   There is no guarantee that being aware of what you're dealing with makes it any less exhausting. You will also have to repeat yourself - a lot ( see selective deafness). Men, seemingly have a huge tolerance for dirt and chaos. It could be that we, as women. are finishing the job started by the moms of these once boys. In my case, I wonder what kind of, if any, job was done. I believe this is one of those compatibility items that got missed because we didn't live together before we married. This was frowned upon in my generation, but now I'm beginning to wonder if the "try before you buy" setup is really such a bad idea. I can only assume that's an individual preference thing.
   The best advice I ever received was from my mother, who, ironically, was unhappily married. She said, "What you see is what you get, and pretty much what you're going to get, for the rest of your life!"  It is true that people don't change much unless they want to, but they can be trained. Start with newspapers on the floor..... I'm kidding! What I really mean is that you need to get it clear in your head and heart what is acceptable behavior and what isn't. Herein lies the rub. There is a fine line between picking your battles and valuing yourself. I am finding as I get older that I can see what I need to let go of, but actually doing it is another matter.  The biggest question to answer, at least for me, is why is X so important? Is this helpful?
  If the answer is yes, it is very important to speak up, early and often!
 

Welcome to the aftermath - Again

  We had a record yard sale. Sometimes I think maybe we shouldn't bother anymore. The last couple of years have been good and the forced ritual of herding everything  that needs to leave in one place has been good for us. This past yard sale we also had a record amount of crap to get rid of, too. We finally had some friends join us with their items for sale, as well. It doesn't look like retirement is in our future. If anything I would be happy if we can get another set of friends to join us. I forget sometimes how much I enjoy our little group.
   Our garage sales are also literally in our garage and spill down our driveway. The downside is pulling both cars out and seeing them get coated with a lovely shade of yellow pollen. The upside is getting my garage cleaned out. Now that the sale is over, the work of putting together our donation for Purple Heart and putting away the tables and crap leftover begins. I also promised myself that once the yardsale was over I'll get to doing "X". We'll, it's over, so now I need to start working on those promises.
   I've often thought how can someone unemployed be so busy? I blame the house. The funny thing is, that while I consider our home to be reasonable, it is far from perfect. There is always something to clean that hasn't been touched in a long time. I don't remember dealing with this much when I had an apartment. Back then, however, I lived alone, too. More humans means more work. There is also the outside maintenance to deal with as well. Fortunately and unfortunately, we have a decent sized yard. Every spring it starts to look like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom out there (for all you fellow dinosaurs) and I am the Marlon Perkins of the house.
  This year things are definitely taking a turn for the interesting since my "injured back" soap opera began. I am now on the glacial road to recovery and have to think about things I used to do without a second thought. Moving patio tables and lifting bags of mulch by myself is now verboten, according to my chiropractor.  God only knows how I'm going to manage to turn over my dirt for a tomato patch this year. I may have to do something crazy like ask for help! The really hard part will be trying to keep my trap shut when the "help" isn't doing it right!
   This may be either good or bad for us as a couple. My husband is expecting to be home for the summer this year. It could give me a good picture of what retirement wold look like. It will give us a good chance to catch up on some household projects around here. The prospect of working together sort of worries me. We will most likely have another yard sale in the fall. I may have a slightly used spouse for sale, cheap!
 

Gunk on the train tracks?

   We hit a rough patch on the homework trail recently. It was one of those nights when I had to sit next to our 9 year old almost the whole time while she did her homework. It was painful and lasted right up until bedtime. Our beautiful and brilliant Adhd girl needs an absolutely barren workspace to get anything done as well as frequent check ins from me in the next room. I will ask her how many problems are left, whether she's stuck on something, how she's making out, or anything else I can think of to remind her that she's supposed to be doing her homework.  
   This is not unusual, from what I've read. Some nights do go better than others. Our girl has had problems shifting from one activity to the next since she was small so I have to tell her we are attacking homework at 5:30, which we do every night. I also have to tell her how much time that is from where we are currently and give warnings as to when it's time to switch. Why not just kill off the homework immediately after school? I would love to be able to get our girl into that routine and we may yet manage that in the future. It's just that for someone forced to largely sit still and behave for almost seven hours with a short recess, I figure our squirrel needs a break. I am also going under the theory that if she's in a better frame of mind, the homework will take less time.
   This is assuming, she hasn't "forgot" her homework. Luckily, or unluckily?, I am the school bus so I try to double check her backpack in the parking lot before we leave. Someone once said "Trust, but verify." (Was it Reagan?) I'm not sure what we're going to do when we no longer have this luxury. The assignments themselves are online, but only some textbooks. I may have to consult with the teacher when the time comes. Leaving lunch leftovers, while gross, is not as big a deal since we do have a spare lunch bag. There is also the idea that sometimes she is going to have to take the consequences of forgetting in the hopes it will build some sense of responsibility, too.
   Some nights, it just all goes to hell and I have to resort to jelly beans. We had a particularly large amount of math to kill off and it contained the dreaded "write math". These are problems in which you are asked to explain something in a sentence or two. My daughter wastes more time ranting about how much she hates it than actually getting it done. I hear this is common. The only way I could figure out how to get us both through this was to fill a shot glass with jelly beans to "help her along", while I used a write on wipe off to help her compose an answer she could then copy. Words fail to describe how much I wanted to refill that shot glass when she was done but I digress.
   When you're knee deep in the struggle, it gets hard to remember the big picture.  Are the grades okay overall? Have recent tests been good? I've also noticed that at least in our case, things are way better now than they were at the beginning of the school year, and certainly from the  previous year. I am working on accepting that my daughter will never be free of ADHD, but I am still grateful that I believe our case is mild. Thankfully, the hellish nights are only occasional. So, dear reader, how goes the homework at your house?

Books, book, and more books

  It's  one of those days where I'm having trouble coming up with much to write about so here goes. Those that know me know that I have book issues. Having a daughter only made things worse by giving the addict a built in excuse to get more books. They may not know my name at the library book sales but I'm pretty sure I have some sort of name. There's that crazy lady who always overloads herself or something like that.  I am there twice a year whether we need them or not, mostly not. I have more books than any one person could possibly read, although that has yet to stop me.
  My daughter, mercifully, doesn't mind reading, especially about anything video game related, or Captain Underpants, but hey, it's still reading. Ironically, we've been frequently borrowing audio books from our library. I've been known to borrow the audio version of a title we already own just to help me thin the herd. Lately, I have been reading books to our daughter that are below her reading level and not her first choice just to get through them. Sometimes, we trip over a pretty good one and I feel better getting rid of something we've already read.
   This morning, to my horror, she asked me to get rid of a bible from her shelf! I was tempted to call an exorcist or find some holy water but instead I agreed to relocate it. This just goes to show you how religious we are. I reminded our daughter that we are actually supposed to read it but I guess since there aren't any Pokemon in any of the gospels that I remember, I was met with eye roll number 47.  She's done this to me before with other "good for you" books but having survived eight years of Catholic school, this one threw me  for a bit of a loop. It looks like I'll be keeping a close eye on that moral compass.
   I am assuming this point that she is looking to create more shelf space. I can't blame her since her room is basically a giant pile of books, stuffed animals, and a bed in there somewhere. More shelf space is definitely needed. Accountants are not the handiest of humans, but I have been known to improvise a few things to help with organization.  Books are a lot easier to deal with than the animals, however. Our daughter has a much tougher time parting with stuffed animals than books, of course.
   I'm sure if I look around, I can thin my own collection, too. It would behoove me to keep my collection limited to the classics like, Shakespeare, Camus, and Dave Barry. Ancient tax guides and textbooks should go if they haven't already. I've gone through the cookbooks so that doesn't leave much. Hopefully, by purging some nonbook items, I'll get more space to play with anyway.  I just hope I end up with a decent amount of space. I've invested in a few organizers that let me stack things but they only go up one level.
   On the upside, it's the only addiction I have that's non fattening.

Fighting the addiction part 112

Spring break hasn't exactly been a break for me. When you live with a video game addict, days off from school can be difficult. I understand that I am not responsible to keep her majesty entertained. The problem is that, left to her own devices, she would have her face in a screen all day. When it's too cold or miserable to be outside, I try to come up with other options. Even on playdates I'm finding that my daughter's friends are bringing their own devices! There is some small comfort in knowing that I'm not alone in this. We have resorted to playing board games as a family in the evenings when my husband gets home from work. We are board game nerds from way back and I often wonder whose DNA this is. I also lucked out, at least briefly, in that the Easter Bunny brought someone a glitter slime kit. We are also still reading books, even if they are about video games, I don't care, it's still reading. It makes me sad to think of all the toys this kid has in our living room that are ignored because they are not video games. I have reminded our offspring during one of the millions of parental lectures that she has completely forgotten how to enjoy anything without a screen. It reminds me of a person with a closet full of clothes complaining there's nothing to wear! My husband and I have resorted to going to a small local business that sells used games and picked up a copy of a game that we, as a family can play. Her majesty must be dragged into it but I figure them's the breaks for now.

So far so good?

I should have known any new endeavor was going to have a few bumps in the road.  Things are going a bit slower than I had hoped and certainly less than perfect.  I am also find myself getting a bit sidetracked. This is ironic as hell since the whole point of this adventure was to improve my daughter's ability to focus! Personally, I blame the mouse. The result of the unauthorized party in my pantry was me cleaning the whole thing like a crime scene and also reorganizing everything into plastic boxes. It also got me looking at my other cabinets as potential havens and then they had to be cleaned out and reorganized, too. Hey, wait a minute, what about our daughter? Oh, right, the honey bun, I did make a teeny bit of progress with our video game addict.  I found these write on wipe off wall stickers. They are not the most attractive things but they don't damage the walls. Directly across and at eye level from where her majesty likes to sit and play on her computer I wrote the dreaded list. It says "Before technology, did you: get dressed, brush teeth and hair, do chores (hamper patrol, dishes in sink), eat breakfast, read for 30 minutes, and be outside for 30 minutes or Wii fit, dance, or board games.
Score one for mommy and Claire's therapist! She has adhered to this list so far twice with only moderate whining. We use this on Saturdays and days off from school. The real test is coming. Can we survive this new schedule for an entire week off for Spring break? I have a nice bottle of white waiting for me but I digress. We, as a family, have had all the willpower of last week's pancakes when it comes to this kind of stuff so naturally, any real change is going to be painful for all of us. The "No Pain No Gain" part only works when you attach enough importance to the "Gain" part to tip the scales. I'm already sitting on one side of the seesaw with my best friend, Anxiety.
Things have a way of working themselves out, God forbid I should remember that, despite the evidence. I am referring to a handwritten journal I'd been keeping in which 95 plus percent of the things I was freaking out over worked out fine. They say you can't believe everything you read, but what if you wrote it?

Promises, promises

  Well, here it is, six months into the new year and so far I've managed to write every day during the week, at least. It hasn't been easy coming up with ideas, weird since I live with a walking wealth of material. I am embarking on a research project for executive skills. I have a long way to go but I am making progress. We all could use some reminder about these "new habits" we are trying to acquire. Instead of those "Live, Love, Laugh" decals people put on their walls, I need ones that say "Are your dishes in the sink?" and "Have you hugged your spouse today?".
   One thing that my source of inspiration reminded me of was how much fun she is the morning. My little fourth grader is about as lovable as a cactus before school. This particular morning we were grousing about having to pick out clothes, among other injustices.  Since she was a toddler I have always tried to limit her choices to between two things in the morning but no, even that was too much for her majesty. Then I remembered the advice we received from her specialist, make life as organized as possible. I'm sure plenty of you are already doing this but it looks like it is now necessary to get our outfits picked out in advance.  As usual, we're just late to the party.
   I would love to have one of those California closet sort of bedrooms for all of us but sadly, that is way not my house. Our daughter's room is a small library with stuffed animals, a bed and dust. Her closet could best be described as "groovy" or maybe "totally tubular". Our house, like its owners, is a bit older than most. I am not able to put one of those hanging tiered shelves in the closet so it looks like I'll have to see if I can figure out a substitute. We also get to have to have to establish another new habit, yay! How many write on wipe off things can you put up before it starts to feel like we live in a memo pad?
   I dream, of course, of that mythical creature, "the clean room" like any other mom. Luckily, I can attach a profit motive to this dream. If I can convince her majesty that she can sell some of her old junk at our yard sale and make money, I have a shot at thinning the herd of crap, and dare I say it?, see a clean dresser surface? Yeah, I know, get your head out of the clouds! We dream big around here. It looks like more things will have to disappear by stealth. I'm waiting for things to start emitting distress signals and suddenly become fascinating to my girl. She seems to "know" when I'm thinking of selling some old toy.
   Generally, despite popular opinion, I try not to get rid of anything that is not mine without consent. I'm sure my spouse would make Sanford and Son look like a shaker family. It's always been up to me to bring up the subject of disposition with him. I'm guessing it's  because my family has had yard sales since I was a kid. Whatever we were done with was either sold or passed along to someone else. We also shopped at flea markets regularly. Economic sense has no stigma. I'm hoping I can set our daughter up with her own table, assuming she can sit in one spot that long. (See "dream big" sentence earlier.)
  What's the big deal about the yard sale? It certainly isn't the money, although that helps. It's the cheap excuse to see our friends and the aftermath. We plan breakfast that day, I end up getting my garage cleaned out, and everything we want to get rid of gets herded into one place. I look forward to having more space and hopefully, the less crap we have, the easier it will be to organize, right? While I'm  fantasizing, I may as well go the whole hog and think that maybe our girl will catch on to the concept of selling her old things to make money, making proper change, and if I get really crazy, the idea that working gets you money! I'll keep you posted on this dream, wish me luck.

EEEEEEEEEEEKK, @#$%×÷!!!!!

   There was a party in my pantry recently, and I was not invited. In hindsight, I should have suspected it from the beginning but my brain just didn't want to admit it.  I discovered a torn open package of muffin mix on a shelf. Don't  ask why I thought my husband had some strange accident and didn't  clean it up. I assumed this was because he frequently does things that make no sense to me, is not exactly famous for cleaning up after himself, and we live in a house with three people. The process of elimination usually fingers our daughter but since we don't keep cheese sticks in there, she was ruled out. Thus began my brief trip down the river denial.  Roughly two days later I was confronted by irrefutable evidence. I found what we'e definitely NOT chocolate jimmies on my counter. What the F??!! OMG!! EEEEEEWW!!
   I felt violated, and rather skeeved out. This was also a personal affront to my housekeeping. I thought these things only happened to "dirty" people, you know, the kind you see on the show "Hoarders". I was able to get a grip long enough to contact the exterminator. My spouse and daughter were oblivious to my freak out, probably because I was upset enough for all of us. Since this was a weekend I was forced to wait until Monday for the cavalry. That left me with the task of cleaning up the crime scene until then.
   It turns out that the pantry is the computer keyboard of our house. We use it every day and don't  realize how bad it gets until we need to clean it. I began an archaeological dig in my own kitchen, no shovel required. I discovered a "poopageddon" on 2 shelves, a shredded paper bag, 2 chewed on granola bars and a violated pudding cup. (See `What the F??!!` sentence above.)
   I pulled out everything we had in that small closet, which, by the way, is really smaller than my linen closet near my bathroom. Somehow I managed to defy the laws of physics and fit a colossal amount of crap in there. I discovered a frightening amount of plastic shopping bags for one thing. I had a daymare about my daughter telling her friends one day 'They found mom under a huge pile of plastic Shoprite bags, she was crazy!'. Suffice it to say, the heard was thinned.
   I've heard the term 'vintage'  applied to wines, pantry items, not so much. If the question 'Who was president when we bought this?', strikes you as a legitimate question when you're sorting through your pantry, grab a trash bag, close your eyes, and heave ho. Parting is such sweet sorrow, especially when you find the idea of throwing out FOOD contrary to every fiber of your being. Remind yourself how expensive a hospital stay can be versus that can in your hand.
   The purge spread to the vitamins and medicines we keep and continued to a neighboring microwave cart. I have to admit, I wasn't  thrilled about how it happened but it was needed and I felt a lot better when it was done.
    It turns out, I was wrong about a few things. When the exterminator arrived, he set out some old fashioned mouse traps, nothing with any more technology than I'd  seen on Bugs Bunny. Rodents, it seems, are looking for warmth and moisture. Cleanliness, has nothing to do with it. The little bastards were probably coming in through the garage, whose doors could use new rubber bottoms. I never did find a mousehole either. Thanks, Bugs.
   EPILOGUE:
   This hunting and crime scene like cleaning continued for about two  or three more long weeks. Then it finally happened. I was out at a gym early one morning and when I got back there it was. The body of the 3 ounce field mouse was on the kitchen counter (dude really - the counter?!) in a Chinese food container, packaged like nuclear waste. My startled husband beat it to death with a shoe once the trap went off. Ding dong the mouse is dead and there was much rejoicing!

The new old crusade

  God forbid anything be simple. I'm going to be sprinkling my posts with my latest mission. Once again, it's  all about the  honeybun.  I am, oddly enough, "lucky" enough to be unemployed so I have time to do this. Our beautiful, brilliant girl has been officially declared an ADHD kid. What does that mean? I don't know either, but I aims to find out, pardner. Hence, the new mission of research will begin.
   I will be hanging out with my new best pal, Google. I may also have to treat my local librarian to a few drinks before this is over, too. So far, I have identified my quarry. I plan to begin with what our specialist called "executive functioning". What this refers to is one's ability to initiate, plan, and follow through on a task. Think the execution of a game plan, not a white guy in a suit driving a bmw.
  I have discovered there are differing opinions on what exactly Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is in the first place. Some are claiming there is no such thing. Personally, I take issue with the word Disorder. It implies there is something "wrong" with my child's brain. I have explained to our daughter, it's a label grownups slap on people when they don't understand your brain. First and foremost I don't want my girl thinking there is something "wrong" with her. This is very important to me. Her brain is just different, that's all.
   The specialist explained it this way. She occasionally gets "gunk" on neurological pathways in her brain. Medication can help clear these up. Notice I said "can". A wonderful side effect of us all being unique like snowflakes, not all medications work. It turns out, for those who believe, there are 6 different types of ADHD and each one responds differently to medicine. Now I get to research which kind I'm dealing with.
  Mercifully, I was pointed to an author named "Amen" who has done a lot of research on this topic. I will keep you, dear reader, posted on what I find out. There is also some good to come out of this for someone's electronic addiction. When I asked our girl what she knew about ADHD, besides her favorite author having it, she said "My brain goes crazy".  I used this chance to explain why too much screen time was bad for her brain. I told her that when you want an overcaffeinated squirrel to calm down, you don't put him with another excited squirrel! She needs to be reminded a lot of how the video games affect her. Whether she really understood that remains to be seen but she has tried to abide by some therapeutic rules we've set up, so far, anyway.
   We gave her a list of what needs to get done first before screen time. Stay tuned.......

The perfect squirrel

  I am going to go off my typical topics and basically whine, sob, complain and otherwise gripe. I got some bad news from my daughter's specialist.  Our brilliant, beautiful, and funny bunny has Adhd. In fact, she's lousy with it. This is hardly a surprise. I guess the label makes me sad. We are currently choosing to abstain from medication. I blame my husband's DNA. Nonetheless, this is the way God made her and I certainly don't love her any less. She will also not be doomed to a life of living in our basement, by any means.  The very fact that my spouse has managed just fine in his life so far is reason for hope.
   It was also a good thing that we went through the testing, expensive and exhausting though it was. I did get some tips on how to make our lives easier and learning about what areas our girl needs help with gives me some direction for research. Another good thing we learned was that our school is largely doing a good job helping her. This is also not a surprise since we moved here just for the school district before she was born.
   The only downside is the specialist recommended that we organize our girl's life as much as possible. This should be interesting. I don't even have my s**t together, how am I supposed to do it for someone else?! I never thought I would consider myself lucky to be unemployed.  It's going to take us a while to get our collective ducks in a row. Right now, it's more of a mosh pit. I am also somewhat grateful our house is small, although that has bugged me in the past.
   Of course the biggest thing to hang onto is that things could be worse. I was not told that she needed pantloads of medicine immediately, or worse yet, hospitalization.  There are also plenty of famous successful people with Adhd, thanks Google. Sooner or later, we will get things better organized, even if I haven't quite figured out how yet. My problem is that I'm a fine one for telling others to eat your elephant one bite at a time but when I have to do it I feel like I'm getting trampled by the herd!
  Thank you for sticking with me through this rant. The pity party is over, for now. It was sadly lacking tequila anyway. It's now time for me to put on my big girl bloomers and get on with it.

My behavior chart

   Those that know me know I'm typically late for everything. New Year's resolutions are no exception. We are already a few months into the new year and so far I've managed to establish one or two new "good habits" but it appears I could use some more help. It feels like I'm supporting an army of therapists between myself, my daughter, and the two of us as a couple. You'd think we'd be the most well adjusted people on the planet. The problem seems to be remembering to follow the advice we're given.
   I'm  guessing the primary problem is laziness. Routines are comfortable, after all, and changing them takes effort. It also takes presence of mind. Frequently, we either forget what we've been told or remember ten minutes before bed. So how do I remedy the problem? My daughter has a behavior chart, do we need one, too? Do I make it neon, blinking, and about the size of a manhole cover? Should I completely cover the television? Do we build in rewards?
   I need to prioritize before this gets too overwhelming. It would also help to get an idea of what exactly the grown ups are trying to pull off here. I may even have to do something crazy like involve my spouse.  I'm a big fan of lists, as long as I remember where I put them.  Maybe I could start small to medium say, with something bright and eye level on the refrigerator. If I went any bigger I would have to move our daughter's art gallery and God only knows where I'd find space for that.
   What are these lofty goals that are so vexing? Oddly enough, it's nothing we're not capable of so much as making time to do them. I would say our problem as a family is our ability to unplug from technology. I'm finding out that the grownups have issues as much as our daughter. Ironic, since yours truly is the harasser in chief for our daughter to take breaks from her majesty's screens! I may try to keep a little diary of my own time just out of curiosity to see how much I'm spending on Facebook, and my gem game. Should I consider a diet? Do I go completely insane and try to survive a whole day cold Turkey? What's next, a polar bear plunge? Strange to think I'm a member of the last generation to have grown up without technology being so ubiquitous as it is today.
   It doesn't take long to get used to these new toys though. Despite the fact that we survived up to this point without them, it's remembering how that gets fuzzy. It's a  lot like life before our daughter was born, I know we had one, but how was it, exactly? Seeing as how our lives do seem to revolve around our offspring, it does make me want to look at the fish pond she swims in as well. She is the child of a couple of dinosaurs. We remember 8 tracks, for you fellow relics.
   Most fellow parents are younger than we are, and it seems the technology addiction is everywhere. It has also invaded her school. We are being forced to sign up for apps to join activities now. Whatever happened to sending a note home? (Use recycled paper for all you tree lovers out there.)  I use my phone too much already.  I also don't need WiFi to read a piece of paper. Computer science is also a subject taught in fourth grade, and I believe she's had it for years now.
   This will be a struggle, but somehow I will find a way to get us all less plugged in and more connected - to each other. I'm open to suggestions, feel free to email me!

And so it begins...

  Recently, my doctor discovered that I allegedly have the spine of a 112 year old person and is amazed I was not writhing on his floor in constant pain. My husband diagnosed me as being extremely Polish years ago, but I digress. All I was grousing about was what I thought was a minor annoyance that wasn't going away. It felt like I was having a hot flash down one side of my leg when I moved a certain way. He sat me down and explained the results of my MRI in English and then developed an expensive treatment plan. It was the most polite robbery I'd  ever been to.
  The "treatment plan" involved me handing over three copays a week for 8 weeks or until the new golf clubs are paid for. Seriously, I found this practitioner from the recommendations of knowledgeable friends so I can't call the guy a "sheister" by any means. I'm just more annoyed/depressed by the expense among other things. I was also informed that exercise was verboten for two weeks. I was not even allowed to take a walk.
   For most normal humans, this is not that big a deal. Yours truly lasted three days before the antsy pants set in.  Who, in their right mind, loves to exercise? How are running, tire flipping, or burpees anyone's definition of a good time?  Herein lies the rub, it's  not the activity itself so much as what I get out of it. I had no idea how much I've  come to rely on the stress relief it provides until I wasn't  able to do it.
  A few weeks back, our area got a ridiculous amount of rain. We had water in our basement and the room I take my workout class in was also flooded. It also happened to be the week the hormone fairy hit. O joy. Earth was getting on my goddamn nerves. When even I notice I'm extra cranky, it's bad. I even asked my ob about it, suspecting I may be on the verge of menopause. She assured me that if I were, the grumpiness was supposed to decrease, not increase. Is there anything I can do to help this?, I asked. Her response was, you guessed it, exercise! Oi fucking vey.
   I have now almost survived two weeks of doing not much. My sanity was questionable to begin with but now I think it's close to packing its bags and leaving altogether. Besides the stress relief, the exercise allowed me to keep some very old beasts in their cages. When I began the high intensity interval training, I was somewhat in shape. Several months in, however, I began to lose weight. This was not intentional so much as it was taken off my hide. This past summer, for the first time in I couldn't tell how many presidents, I wanted my picture taken in a bathing suit. I don't think this ever happened to me even in my twenties, when you would have wanted to see the picture, much less twenty five years later! Mind you, last summer's suit was "age appropriate" but stylish.
  I have to continuously remind myself that my idea of no exercise has so far meant sneaking off to a gym on a friend's membership and doing some pedaling and eliptical stuff. I maintain my what's left of my sanity for your protection. My "beasties" are also old, crazy, and have lousy eyesight. These creatures  have been in my brain since my late teens. They criticize, catastrophize and are completely unrealistic. "It's been two weeks, you must need your own zip code by now!" Do I look any different than I did two weeks ago?, of course not. Rational thought has nothing to do with them. They do nothing but generate annoying swamp gas bubbles in my brain.
   I would love to evict these tenants, any ideas?

The great pudding fight

    I frequently find myself overwhelmed by my own little personal vortex. We say a lot of things at our house like "one disaster at a time" and "eat your elephant one bite at a time" but I need stronger reminders. (I'm  talking the business end of a baseball bat`stronger reminders.') There is always going to be too much to do and not enough time to do it in, right? Will I be a stressed out retired person someday? I wouldn't put it past me.
   Accepting that some things are just not going to happen in any given day is not easy for me but some days, when the stars are aligned, it happens. Life goes on and we're all still alive. Therein lies the rub. Life goes on -way too goddamn fast for my taste and I have the unmitigated gaul to want to enjoy parts of it every day. Why not go for something  more realistic like invisibility  or sprouting wings?
  There was one day recently, for example when we, as a family we'e overscheduled. We had three doctor appointments and a school function in one day. I am not used to that much activity. That was also an anomaly for us and now I remember why. It felt like I was in full on survival mode. Having a day in which you can't  wait for bedtime is not much of a fun day.
   Once again, I'm  losing sight of the fact that I live with a fabulous example of my life goal. My daughter is blissfully unaware of anything remotely practical or responsible. One could argue that life is full of responsibility and you need to prepare your child to handle it. That is more or less true but how do you manage a balance of sorts when what I'd  really like to do is trade places?!
   I believe my observation is skewed. There is value in to do lists and I have no plans to abandon the minimum daily requirements of grown up bologna that must be dealt with but it may help to change how I go about my work. The first question I could ask myself is how would my daughter do this? Would she do it on one foot? Would she do it with heroic sound effects? Would she do it while singing the theme song to Captain Underpants? My money is on Underpants. Shoprite, the gas station, and even vacuuming would certainly be more interesting. It's also a question of maintenance. Allegedly it can take six weeks or longer to establish a new habit, but what about a new attitude?
   A theme song may be a bit much, especially for someone with a voice for accounting. I need something that fits me a little better but still includes some "stretching". I could improvise a cape, for example. (That wouldn't work for job interviews but maybe a casual Friday if I got hired.) Doing housework on one foot is probably an er visit waiting to happen so that's out.  I'm open to suggestions on this.
  It could also be that my to do list is too short. Wait, What??!!!
  Ok, bear with me, here. The issue is "the list" includes only work/necessary items. When I watch my girl try to do homework, she never stays on task for long. We`ve been trying to correct this but maybe she's  had it right all along, in a manner of speaking. What I'm  getting at is the idea of including fun things and treating them as necessary items. All work and no play, has made Jill not just dull, but a little pissy.
When I grow up, I want to be nine.
   So, dear reader, What does your list look like?

My bestie?

   Recently my daughter has been watching the movie "Captain Underpants." It's a great film, too. We really enjoy the music from it. It's a story about two best friends who pull pranks at school. Unfortunately, this got me thinking. Do I have a best friend? I used to when I was growing up. I also had another good friend in my singles group days. My daughter has one good friend in the neighborhood here. Currently though, I can't say that I have a friend I hang out with on a regular basis.
   There is one friend in "our circle" who comes close. We have a lot of fun together and she is incredibly easy to talk to, and drink with. She used to babysit our daughter and she does our yard sale with me every Spring.  I think the problem for me seems to be making time to make friends and trying to keep up the friendships I have. (All one or two of them!)
   I have a lot of small commitments during the week that take up time during the day. The problem is that before I know it, the day is gone. It's making the time for a text, or God forbid, a phone call, that seems to be my biggest issue. What's funny is, that my daughter took a game off of her tablet that I had been playing. I was disappointed at first, but now I realize that she did me a favor.  Those little games are great, but they can really eat some time. It's true what they say about writing things down. If you ever want to know where your time is going, try keeping a diary for a day or two.
The same is true for calories, but that's a whole separate discussion!
   It is true that when you have a family, your friends change. You seem to start hanging out with the parents of your kid's friends or other parents. It's clearly easier to relate and certainly easier to coordinate schedules. Best friends, or close friends, however, can be a bit different, I think. Individual outings can also be a lot tougher to manage, too.
   This brings me to the issue of parental guilt. You have a lot of nerve scheduling something that does not involve your child, don't you? My issue seems to be remembering that if you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else, right? Nonsense, Superwoman can do anything! I should be able to do it all, shouldn't I? I really need to stop "shoulding" on myself. Why does it feel like being a full time mom doesn't entitle one to breaks that last longer than a cheesecake commercial?
   Not getting paid doesn't mean that I don't have a job. Funny thing is, it's an accepted fact that being a full time parent is the most important job you can have. The problem is that I need to be the one to accept it. This is no small task. It means valuing myself and my time. Where's my cape and phone booth? I would settle for a microscope to find the value I'm placing on myself.
   I have an opening for a friend and possible drinking buddy, any takers?

Fnar b qs and other gatherings

   As of this writing it is about a week or so after the Superbowl and amazingly the Philadelphia Eagles were in it and won! We, as a family were lucky enough to have friends over to watch the game. I am far from a rabid football fan. I'm a fan of people bringing food to my house and cleaning up. Mostly I enjoy the commercials like everyone else and the cheap excuse to get our friends together and get the house in order.
   We also have a blast at these little events. You know you've had a great evening when you've been laughing so hard your stomach hurts at least once. It also gives us a chance to use the games that would otherwise collect dust in our basement. I am hopeful that eventually we can get the kids to put the devices down long enough to actually join us. I know, I've always been a dreamer.
   Another upside for me is the leftovers. Since we have a habit of making enough food to feed Zimbabwe when we having more than two people coming, I am guaranteed to not have to worry about dinner for the next few days. The downside is the plethora of junk food that comes to the house. Thankfully, once a month is just about enough for me to keep up my mood and not ruin my waistline completely.
   These gatherings for me are also a huge help in fighting the winter blahs. February,  March, and April were never my favorite months. Granted that is mostly because of tax season but also because I seem to be someone who needs something fun on my horizon, even if I have to put it there myself.  It's also a lucky thing for me that we have great friends willing to travel to our house.
   This is assuming, generally, that people aren't sick and the roads are passable. This year, oddly enough, the weather hasn't been too bad in terms of snow. While our neighborhood looks great snow covered, the white stuff was much more fun when I couldn't drive. It also never seems to be enough. My feeling is either bury me in the house for a few days or leave me the hell alone. Despite this year's flumageddon, we have escaped so far, largely unscathed.
  Basically, we sit around, eat, drink, and make fun of each other. Sometimes we even fit a game in. It's usually cards of some form. So, dear reader, how do you fight the winter blahs?
 

I'm Baaaaaaaack!.

   I was the lucky recipient of a new nifty tablet for Christmas. It's a sensitive sucker and I'm finding I have a lot to learn. I keep doing things I'm not trying to like open pages and delete things, muting, and turning the damn thing off when I'm  trying to increase the volume. The good thing is it's helping me meditate, of all things. There's something about having another voice in my ear reminding me to stop and just breathe for three, five or ten minutes depending on the setting I choose; it helps me actually get a grip.
  After some searching, I was even able to find my blog and blow the dust off it, electronically speaking. Now that it's a  new year, I've decided to make some anti resolutions. I'm  sticking to my first usual resolution to not make promises I know damn well I won't keep. I plan to stop beating myself up over things I don't do. Baby steps are still steps (I should probably have that tattooed somewhere).       Slowly but surely I will get there. Where exactly "there" is is my problem. My focus will be on what I want to be when I  grow up. It's  going to take help for me to figure out what that may be. It may even take something completely crazy like going back to school. Let's just eat our elephant one bite at a time, shall we?
  While we're on the subject of lunacy, I plan to ask for help! Admitting, however, that my spouse is oblivious to house messes will most likely require a cape and phone  booth on my part. Did I mention baby steps? Can I make a behavior chart for myself? My daughter has one. There are even rewards for good weeks.
  I can only imagine what mine would look like. Item one, did I write or look for submissions? Item two, did I drop the F bomb less than 10 times today? Item three, did I not hit anybody? Item four, did I keep my snarky comments about others to less than four? Item five, did I remember that perfection is a strictly theoretical concept both in and for my house? How much alcohol qualifies as a reward before it becomes a problem?
  Resolutions? No, thank you. I need something  more concrete, and realistic. Patience with myself (another theoretical concept) and others will have to be another item for me to have on my chart, mostly for visualization purposes. The next question  would be where to put the thing. I'm guessing, the refrigerator, since six pack abs are definitely not on the list.
   Happy 2018, everyone, here's hoping.