Alright, here it is (i think) the unveiling of my new blog. Thought it would be way more exciting and it probably would have been, had I not been forced to tears last night and deleted the damn thing and started over. But it is over (i think) and I am inviting you to come see me over at my new place – a house warming if you will. And it wouldn’t be the same without you.
My husband is getting sick. He has been complaining of being tired, cold then hot and just plain achiness. I feel bad for him. I don’t want him to be sick. BUT all I can think is if he gets sick who is going to help me with my website. Selfish, I know, but it is horrible. I am completely obsessed with getting it finished. It has taken over all my thoughts. I come home and run straight to the computer, spend endless hours looking through theme templates, uploading them to ftp, adding my photo and then checking the site to see if it worked (it didn’t). I get elated when I realize I can do something, then frustrated when I hit another wall. And every evening I eventually give in and call my husband into my office and ask him for help.
I was thinking earlier today about my in-laws. When they bought their house way back when they had this door thing installed so that whenever a door is opened it beeps and then says Front Door OR beeps, Garage Door. (you get the point) After much ridicule from the kids in the family, they disabled it. I can’t remember what that had to do with my story – anyway, every Sunday when the babies are crying the doorbell will ring. And every time the door bell rings, like a good daughter-in-law I say, “Door!” And every time I say door, someone in the family will tell me that it is the kids. I say, “What? Someone is at the door.” Then they repeat, no it is just the kids. Oh, I say. Of course we talked about this last Sunday, the high pitch sound of the crying will sound the door bell. (my stupidity at its best)
We cut back on Valentine’s candy this year because we still have Halloween candy in the cupboard. I asked hubby if we could just put that in a Valentine’s gift bag and give it to the kid (he would never know), but he didn’t think that was funny or a good idea. So we have a very limited amount of crap on our counter, considerable less than every year before this. Just standing next to the counter I feel fater. I couldn’t even bring myself to eat a whole chocolate last night. Just felt like I had already eaten a whole box. Weird, I usually don’t have that problem.
My mother was like a ray of sunshine today (sarcasm in our family for “you are being dreadful”) because she is also getting sick. She was home yesterday resting, but too tired to knit or read, but not tired enough to go to sleep. Sounds like hell to me. No reading? No knitting? No sleep? If you closed your eyes, when she was speaking it probably sounded like me. I have such a cheeriness to my personality that makes every one just love me that much more. My valentine’s card from hubby said something like your personality is like a basket full of daisys and when I was reading tha part outloud (if you have kids, you know this is required) hubby started snickering. Normally, I would have been upset, but it is true, I can be a polar opposite to happy.
Actually I am working on my sunshine-ness. I found myself laughing my ass off at the video from Pink Piddy Paws whereas in the past I would have rolled my eyes and said pigs. Instead I shared it with my husband, then called him a pig when he offered to do the same for me (watch the video) and then we laughed together. I have noticed lately that I laugh all the time (except for Tuesday) and I like it. I feel happier. Hello, laughing = happiness? Who knew.
Here’s something that makes me happy, hope you enjoy.
Every time the sweet aroma fills the air I remember the briefest moments of being with the most incredible dad in the world and our secret time together.
My dad and I sneak out front to the patio, outlaws from my mother. He would pull the cigar out of the wrapper, hold up to his nose and inhale deeply. A smile would spread across his face. A smile I could never place. As he rolled the cigar in his fingers, a giddy sensation would run through me knowing I was apart of something special. He would cut the tip off and as he lit the cigar he would roll it around in a circle, pulling deeply on the scent. We would stand back and admire the quiet night. I stood as tall as his chest. The smoke would billow around us and sweeten the air. And that was when the adventures began. I would listen with wonder as he regalled me with stories of his youth, a successful business deal; whatever came to mind. At that moment I could tell him anything. I was his girl. It was our time. Just the two of us. I couldn’t have felt more special than to share this time with him. As I got older the conversation changed, but the occasion was momentous.
How the hell do you forget to brush your teeth in the morning? I ask myself this at least twice a week.
I wake up one hour late because I just couldn’t drag my butt out of bed after being up til 3am. I take a long, hot shower. Run around like a chicken with her head cut off. Realizing that it is valentine’s day I decide to iron a blouse. My husband and stepson surprise me with flowers and chocolates and a full steaming new mug of coffee. I thank them profusely. Just when I think I am ready, I remember I wanted to wear makeup. I am about 10 minutes behind my usual schedule, which means I should have left the house 5 minutes ago. I decide that I have more than enough time to eat breakfast. While eating breakfast I take a great photo of my Valentine’s gift and upload it to my blog. Get distracted by a few really fun posts people have written. Ask my husband if he was able to figure out the header issue with my new website. He sits me down and explains to me how to do it. Completely confused I nod reasuringly. I finally get up to leave and see my kitty on the table rolling around all excited like she just got a present. She is a complete gift bag, tissue finatic. I turn to tell hubby goodbye and as I turn back around I see my cat swipe against my 2 foot tall glass flower vase. As I step forward I hear my scream, NOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. And in very slow motion the entire glass vase falls and shaters into a million pieces all over the floor. My cat frozen suddenly realizes the danger is over and steps forward to investigate. I grab her toss her in the other room. Surveying the damage, I know I am surely going to be way late for work today. After 10 minutes of cleaning glass with my husband I jet out of the house. On the way to work I realize I forgot something – to brush my teeth. Ew, gross. The longest ride to work ever. And thankfully I keep a toothbrush at work just for this reason.
This is so funny, it made snot shoot out my nose. I know that hurt, but it is still sadly funny. I feel for her, I really do, but since I am a complete klutz and tend to have way more bruises that most. Completely stolen from Dooce but I couldn’t help but share this. And just in case, dooce was wondering it definitely made my day better. Every time I watch it I laugh til my eyes water and of course, the snot thing.
Clever Escape so generously gave me an excellent blog award. Which honestly I don’t know what to say, except thanks. Some days I can hear the echo of the microphone as I speak into my blog wondering if anyone is listening or out there. And some days I hope no one is listening because even my mother would be embarrassed by the things I say. But it is entertaining, enlightening and a wonderful escape. (notice all the e’s? just in case, I thought I would point that out. lol)
Without further ado, my 10 blogs I love and read daily are . . .
Here is the guilty party. The PEE STAINER in question.
Izabel: a 5 year old maine coon
She’s cute. Okay so she is absolutely stunning.
She fun. She lovs to mess with you. Her favorite game is come and pet me. People say, “Oh look at the kitty.” And she puts her head down and smiles, she loves you with her eyes.
She pulls you in – so much character in her eyes.
And then
WHAMMO!!!
Right on your new rug.
This last picture is her don’t f*ck with me face. I get that a lot when taking pictures of her. I just sit and click away and she glares at me. I make kissy faces and meow. She still glares. She will even get up, turn around, throw her tail in the air and lay down with her butt facing me. And if I get up and lean in for kisses, she softens and sighs, mommy. All is happy all is right . . . til I pick up the camera again.
Maybe she is pulling a Britney. She must be mad over the paparazzi.
hubby comes home today from a week away snowboarding with the guys
no more wandering the house aimlessly trying to figure out who to talk to since the kid is in bed, the cats won’t make eye contact with me and the dogs just lick me
finished two books in three day – this one and this one – which hasn’t happened since I got married
no more waking up throughout the night at the slightest squeak in the house
approved by blogher.com (just in case you hadn’t heard)
the bad
no more endless reading time – we read at the dinner table, we read in the bathroom, we read in the living room with our head hanging off the couch, the bedroom with our feet on the wall, you name it my stepson and I read in it this weekend (i heart books)
no more tv dinners – my stepson and I love these things, my husband can’t stand them – what is not to love? takes 5 minutes to make and 2 minutes to eat and 30 seconds to clean up
no more sleeping in the middle of the bed, diagonally
no more peace and quiet – it isn’t that my husband is loud, but when you add a third person to the mix things just get CRAZY; it would be quiet with two, but three and it’s like a party all the time only every other day someone loses their mind and we all have to deal with their issues (giving a shout out to my fellow stepmoms of the world – BA-NA-NAS)
I had to run the dishwasher that was only half full today and feel HELA-guilty. I say I had to because otherwise I would have had to hand wash all twelve of our cereal bowls, all twelve of our spoons and all two of my coffee mugs and I just didn’t have the energy for that.
i feel like a complete dumb ass when it comes to computers, the internet, blogs and websites especially now that I am purchasing a domain name (yeah! wohooo!!) so stay posted
the ugly
i have decided to start a new business, it is called PEE STAINING – bring your rug over and my cat will professionally stain it for you, light, dark or medium grade (your choice – obviously more pee, more cost involved) otherwise I may have to wake up and realize that my cat is SERIOUSLY MESSED UP and I don’t mean she needs to go to the vet, I mean she needs a cat behaviorist because she is driving me mad and I love her, so it is really hard for her to drive me. I mean she was here before my husband and I love her so much she will be here after – regardless of what she does or who she bites. But she is pissing on everything and I can’t get her to use the damn litter box and before you leave me a comment saying I need to take her to the vet I KNOW she doesn’t need to go to the vet!! She is just seriously pissed off and wants to show us her displeasure. And it was funny when she pissed on my husband’s work papers and it was funny when she pooped on his clothes and it was funny when she may have pissed on his snowboarding bag, but IT IS SO NOT FUNNY WHEN SHE IS PISSING ON MY RUG!
GOT AN IDEA – I will give FREE ADVERTISING to any cat behaviorist that wants to try and diagnose my cat. I will give links, your business logo and all information on how to contact you. I will document the entire thing on my blog. Just leave me your information.
I suck. I made cookies and totally forgot about them. I always set the oven to bake at a lower degree than stated on the package and cook less time, so they come out all nice and gooey, but this time they just wouldn’t cook and so I kept having to reset the timer for 2 more minutes. And then one time I didn’t set the damn timer. Sitting checking my son’s homework and all of sudden I smell burning. I leap up and the first batch of cookies didn’t make it. A few are in intensive care. And what’s worse, they were the kind that you just break apart, put on a cookie sheet and bake. They came in packaging that said COOKIES FOR DUMMIES.
