Theres definitely something I missed about living in an apartment complex. It may sound crazy a bit but I miss having neighbors in mass quantities. What I dont miss is how hard it is to engage them in conversation. I got used to living in military housing where the moment you drive up to your new house, chances are your neighbors are lining your sidewalk like a welcoming committee.
Granted they're only there to be nosey most of the time.
Though there was that one time I drove up a while after the Ex had started to unload the moving truck and happened upon my next door neighbors and their kids talking to him. I later found out that their observation of my Ex and his work buddy unloading led them to think they were a gay couple and they wanted first dibs on the friendship possibility.
This was previous to the repelling of Dont ask Dont tell so I am not sure WHAT exactly gave them that impression but it humours me to this day.
Ahhh...good times.
At any rate, the only person I have befriended as of yet is my mailman. How unlikely is that?? He comes about 6 times a week, for 10-15 minutes and is then gone again.
As it seems to be the typical way to find me, I met Mr. C my first true day at the apartment when I arrived at my door and found my key faulty.
Two locks. One key. No ENTRY.
Ye Shall Not Pass! said the bronze knobs.
Ye shall tremble at the hands of a lock smith!, I replied.
Except the locksmith (a maintenance worker I had to go seek by foot), was chatty.
"Did you try both locks?"
Well no, I batted my eyes and nothing happened so I hailed a true knight to aid me in my time of distress.
"Yes. Yes I did."
Blink.Blink.
"Hmm. Maybe you have the wrong key?"
GENIUS
"I just moved in. I dont know whats wrong I just know the key wont work"
"Hmm...Ok...is there another key?"
"If I HAD another key I would of tried it. Look Im not trying to be a dramatic bitch but I am tired, been up since 5 and I REALLY just want to lay in bed for a few minutes before my kids arrive."
"Oh. Ok. Well. See. Im going to rekey it for you. I will have to get my tools from my truck so that I can unfasten the bolts----"
Thats about as far into his love affair with locks as I got before I tuned out and my eyes glazed over.
Im TIRED dude. And im quickly losing my ability to keep my mouth in check. Im trying to be patient as he turns into Charlie Brown's teacher when I note the mailman peeking over his shoulder with a grin. He catches me looking and he shakes his head.
Good. Im not out of place to say:
"Alright really, I get that and its nice but thats MY dog you hear whining on the other side of the door having to go piss with an urgency and besides not wanting him to relieve himself on the carpet I am truly RUNNING OUT OF TIME before my kids return and I would REALLY like to catch a nap. That said, do what you must but PLEASE, let me in!"
Mr. C is an elderly black man with an easy chuckle and an obvious enjoyment of things being said as they are.
"You'll be alright, girl. You're funny though...talking like that. Good GAWD have mercy...heres your mail, now go on and get a nap!"
Seems Cerb knows him now too. I was sitting, as is my habit now, on the floor of the balcony one afternoon when out dashed my hell-hound bent on giving someone a piece of his mind. Across from my building Mr. C was getting out of his postal truck, laughing and waving at us.
I wish it was that easy to make friends with others here in the complex.
Its not that Im shy, its that I fear that I may come off as too forward. Or odd.
Maybe even crazy?
Pff. Right. Im no where NEAR crazy O_o
But...
I sit here on the balcony floor, my ass going horribly numb with pin pricks and the likes, smoking a cigarette and others are doing much the same.
Some are leaning over banisters, some sitting on the stair case. Others in their cars, doors open, music playing. Those with better regards for their behinds, have patio sets.
Im tempted to walk over and say: "Hi. I noticed we've got a few things in common: smoking, insomnia, numb arses, and possibly loneliness. Lets be friends!"
Maybe that only works in the military where you can offer a complete stranger cat litter cake and/or candy on halloween late at night when you can barely make out their face and they suddenly become family.
Or maybe I need to learn a new way to make friends.
Id put an ad out on craigslist but Id like to live to a ripe old age.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Smart Mouth for Hire
I'm sure that my neighbors must think that I am a high executive at some snazzy office in downtown DC.
After all I have all the tell tale signs:
I mean, I'm only guessing but from what I've glimpsed in DC those fellas are no joke. They walk brisk. They look intense, and there's always the suits, coffee, and cases.
I could be completely wrong though because if anyone takes my above description and labels me one of the elite DC-tonians (is that the term?!) then I'm sure I'm wrong too because:
I'm trying not to despair... but I'm not fond of the circus act. Why cant I just get paid for being witty and sitting at home sipping coffee all while browsing pinterest?
That's right. Because I got fired from being a SAHM :/
Someone pass me a beer.
After all I have all the tell tale signs:
- Every morning this week I have walked out of the apartment in a business suit, hair pulled back, large stack of papers in a file, laptop case, mug of coffee, and huge dark tint sunglasses.
- I'm often found checking my iPhone and imputing some quick notes.
- I don't smile.
- I arrive home looking slightly wrecked but still monkey-suited, coffee mug in hand.
- If you catch me any time after that, I'm in jeans and a tee and no shoes (damn those heels!) looking slightly bewildered.
I mean, I'm only guessing but from what I've glimpsed in DC those fellas are no joke. They walk brisk. They look intense, and there's always the suits, coffee, and cases.
I could be completely wrong though because if anyone takes my above description and labels me one of the elite DC-tonians (is that the term?!) then I'm sure I'm wrong too because:
- The suit and accessories are for the 3 billion interviews/job fairs I have attended this week.
- I check my iPhone for the time. Then check it again because I didn't actually note the time. Then turn it back on to figure out where the hell I'm supposed to be going anyhow.
- Smiling implies happiness. I. AM. NOT. HAPPY. Something about trying to sell myself off like a hooker to some executive or his minion isn't appealing to me. I save my smiles for the line-up.
- I arrived wrecked possibly because I'm sure Ive shook hands with at least 40 different possible employers and had to put on the charm each time. Its exhausting. And germy...I'm also possibly wrecked because Ive attempted to tear off my coat jacket while driving down I295 and failed. Managing to extract one arm while doing the driver's side shimmy isn't easy but its apparently entertaining to fellow traffic members.
- Anything remotely normal and requiring no acting skills has become suspicious. What do you MEAN I can just walk up to the mail box and no ones going to question me where I see myself 5 minutes after retrieving the junk mail? Or why I believe I'm the best choice for it? Its because there are bills in this stack ...AREN'T THERE?!
I'm trying not to despair... but I'm not fond of the circus act. Why cant I just get paid for being witty and sitting at home sipping coffee all while browsing pinterest?
That's right. Because I got fired from being a SAHM :/
Someone pass me a beer.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Deja Poo
Im not trying to be vulgar but really, I think my life revolves around shit.
Thats shit.
This is THE shit.
Shit, what did you do??
What IS this shit?
This shit is good!
I've got shit to do.
He's got shit for brains.
And today:
She shit on the carpet.
I bet you can guess who that was.
Yep. Aeva.
I was putting around with ideas of how to return from my little absence these last few days when I had something of a deja vu.
Aeva pulling down her pants with that look on her face that says "im in way over my head", and smears of .... stuff... on her backside. Sound familiar? No? Go back and read my first post ever. Trust me, youll be sitting there cringing along with me.
This time however, Iris was with me and we both sprang to action like super awesome super heros. I went for both of Aevas hands (learned that lesson!), and she went for wipes. Completely disabled from being able to perform further damage, Iris led Aeva away to the confines of the bare bathroom (we've yet to get our home goods) and I quickly disinfected the carpet before it set it. Something about Camden Apartments not liking the idea of me cutting a chunk of carpet out for sanitary reasons.
We are so classy we ended up dousing Aeva with a rinsed out Slurpee cup.
I cannot wait till I am out of this ridiculous potty training stage. It feels like it will take FOREVER to get Aeva to dispose of her nuclear waste in the john rather than the local surroundings. Its also not cool that I spent most of my 36 hours of driving from Texas to Maryland reaching behind me to squeeze the groin diaper area in order to determine if we needed the upteenth pit stop that HOUR.
Speaking of that trip. Ta-Daa! We made it! A tad belated but its been busy boys and girls! Ive been walking the interview strip in my knee high hooker heels (discreetly hidden under my very professional slacks mind you) tooting my goodies (aka skill sets and job experience) and handing out my resume like its no ones business. But...hopefully becomes someones business..never mind. You get it Im sure.
Anyhow, like any good kid recently scrubbedraw clean from a messy moment, Aeva donned her ballet shoes and took her sister out for a spin on the dance floor/ painfully bare livingroom. I took some cute shots (even one where Aeva did some overtly dramatic face-first faint) but theres not frick fracking way to get it OFF my phone and onto this damned thing so if anyone figures it out for me, you get kudos. And brownies maybe. Or just brownie points. I dont have any of my home goods :(
Thats shit.
This is THE shit.
Shit, what did you do??
What IS this shit?
This shit is good!
I've got shit to do.
He's got shit for brains.
And today:
She shit on the carpet.
I bet you can guess who that was.
Yep. Aeva.
I was putting around with ideas of how to return from my little absence these last few days when I had something of a deja vu.
Aeva pulling down her pants with that look on her face that says "im in way over my head", and smears of .... stuff... on her backside. Sound familiar? No? Go back and read my first post ever. Trust me, youll be sitting there cringing along with me.
This time however, Iris was with me and we both sprang to action like super awesome super heros. I went for both of Aevas hands (learned that lesson!), and she went for wipes. Completely disabled from being able to perform further damage, Iris led Aeva away to the confines of the bare bathroom (we've yet to get our home goods) and I quickly disinfected the carpet before it set it. Something about Camden Apartments not liking the idea of me cutting a chunk of carpet out for sanitary reasons.
We are so classy we ended up dousing Aeva with a rinsed out Slurpee cup.
I cannot wait till I am out of this ridiculous potty training stage. It feels like it will take FOREVER to get Aeva to dispose of her nuclear waste in the john rather than the local surroundings. Its also not cool that I spent most of my 36 hours of driving from Texas to Maryland reaching behind me to squeeze the groin diaper area in order to determine if we needed the upteenth pit stop that HOUR.
Speaking of that trip. Ta-Daa! We made it! A tad belated but its been busy boys and girls! Ive been walking the interview strip in my knee high hooker heels (discreetly hidden under my very professional slacks mind you) tooting my goodies (aka skill sets and job experience) and handing out my resume like its no ones business. But...hopefully becomes someones business..never mind. You get it Im sure.
Anyhow, like any good kid recently scrubbed
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Snarky Dark Bitch
If I close my eyes and just use my imagination...then I am sitting here at Panera Bread in San Diego with my laptop, a coffee, and a bagel typing away my newest novel. Not a care in the world and no rush to get anywhere.
That is, until, my nose starts to run like a faucet because I apparently choose the most unseasonably cold week to visit sunny California.
Theres also the 3 infants at the table next to me (each with a respective mother, dont worry...) and a very pregnant mom-to-be (no shes not one of the ones with an infant...I hope). The babies have been having a conversation of their own since before I set up beside them outside in the chilly weather and I have been trying ever so hard not to ask if I can hold one.
Creepy...I know. But I miss my own two babies. I have not been able to talk to them much since I have been out here because the Ex's phone unexpectedly broke and so phone calls do not go through. FaceTime requires WiFi that just isnt universally accessible so I have only seen their bright faces maybe 2 or 3 times since Friday last.
Needless to say, I am having withdrawls. The good news is I leave tomorrow but probably wont arrive till friday thanks to the grey hound bus schedule.
Im honest to goodness ready to end this less than eventful trip. It was a good idea but I dont think im meant to be a gypsy without my two blondies tagging along and making any trip 10 times its usual hassle.
So heres the real reason I logged on and pulled up a post. Ive come to the realization that I am a dark (read negative) snarky bitch.
Lets raise a poll.
Agree?
Disagree?
Rather not invoke my possible wrath?
Ok so yes. I am having some terrible luck and its almost a complete continuation of the last few YEARS. Can you honestly blame me for getting to the point where I just sit and sulk and yell at lovers kissing because I am one bitter bitch about anyone being happy right now?
Alright I dont yell. I just give them the stink eye.
It extends beyond that however. I have friends on 3 different fronts as we speak. There are those who are willing to sit by me and nod and rub my back and generally ignore my ill moods except to try sweetening them with little bribes of coffee and pictures of monkeys sniffing their butts and fainting. They know that im being exactly who I am and that I will eventually walk out of it. Theyre trying to be encouraging.
Theres the polar opposite friends who feel I need to snap out of this black hole of a depression with a dose of reality, bootstraps, and tough love. They dont allow me my antics and generally snarl right back at me when I show teeth. They dont think my ways are healthy and so they want to save me from myself. They too are trying to be encouraging.
I think the third pool of friends are in shock. Theyre there and they speak when spoken to but for the most part resemble those comical 'see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil' monkeys (what the heck is up with monkeys?!)
If I fake the positivity then I am not being myself. If I continue with my snarky bad moods, then I am being hurtful. Theres no win here for anyone it seems.
Geezus its so damn cold out here my fingers and brain cant interact coherently. My brain is working out knots in this argument that really should be put to page but my fingers are doing sgwruc92rcpa;102@#!# so often that I think Im gonna pack up and go HOME. I think my neurons are feeling some frost.
Alright. Heres the gong (GONG!!) anddd..... DISCUSS!
That is, until, my nose starts to run like a faucet because I apparently choose the most unseasonably cold week to visit sunny California.
Theres also the 3 infants at the table next to me (each with a respective mother, dont worry...) and a very pregnant mom-to-be (no shes not one of the ones with an infant...I hope). The babies have been having a conversation of their own since before I set up beside them outside in the chilly weather and I have been trying ever so hard not to ask if I can hold one.
Creepy...I know. But I miss my own two babies. I have not been able to talk to them much since I have been out here because the Ex's phone unexpectedly broke and so phone calls do not go through. FaceTime requires WiFi that just isnt universally accessible so I have only seen their bright faces maybe 2 or 3 times since Friday last.
Needless to say, I am having withdrawls. The good news is I leave tomorrow but probably wont arrive till friday thanks to the grey hound bus schedule.
Im honest to goodness ready to end this less than eventful trip. It was a good idea but I dont think im meant to be a gypsy without my two blondies tagging along and making any trip 10 times its usual hassle.
So heres the real reason I logged on and pulled up a post. Ive come to the realization that I am a dark (read negative) snarky bitch.
Lets raise a poll.
Agree?
Disagree?
Rather not invoke my possible wrath?
Ok so yes. I am having some terrible luck and its almost a complete continuation of the last few YEARS. Can you honestly blame me for getting to the point where I just sit and sulk and yell at lovers kissing because I am one bitter bitch about anyone being happy right now?
Alright I dont yell. I just give them the stink eye.
It extends beyond that however. I have friends on 3 different fronts as we speak. There are those who are willing to sit by me and nod and rub my back and generally ignore my ill moods except to try sweetening them with little bribes of coffee and pictures of monkeys sniffing their butts and fainting. They know that im being exactly who I am and that I will eventually walk out of it. Theyre trying to be encouraging.
Theres the polar opposite friends who feel I need to snap out of this black hole of a depression with a dose of reality, bootstraps, and tough love. They dont allow me my antics and generally snarl right back at me when I show teeth. They dont think my ways are healthy and so they want to save me from myself. They too are trying to be encouraging.
I think the third pool of friends are in shock. Theyre there and they speak when spoken to but for the most part resemble those comical 'see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil' monkeys (what the heck is up with monkeys?!)
If I fake the positivity then I am not being myself. If I continue with my snarky bad moods, then I am being hurtful. Theres no win here for anyone it seems.
Geezus its so damn cold out here my fingers and brain cant interact coherently. My brain is working out knots in this argument that really should be put to page but my fingers are doing sgwruc92rcpa;102@#!# so often that I think Im gonna pack up and go HOME. I think my neurons are feeling some frost.
Alright. Heres the gong (GONG!!) anddd..... DISCUSS!
Saturday, April 28, 2012
From sea to shinning sea
I'm writing to you from the road. Currently, I'm sitting behind the driver of this greyhound bus.
I know. It's been a while huh? I took down my Facebook and 'ran away' from the social media world. It took a little while before texts flooded my phone to see if something awful had happened. Was I 'ok'? You realize, I started this blog BECAUSE something awful happened. I find the notion humorous.
No. Nothing 'awful' happened to me. Not really anyhow. I just reached that point where I was on chatter overload. Everything grated my sanity and I took a break. I knew I'd return. I figured, eh, a week. That became two. That hit 4 before the texts got whinny and I might as well go back to Facebook where the pleas keep to their own walls. I put it off for days which is surprising to me ABOUT me.
Goes to show huh?
Back to this bumpy road that makes mobile blogging an optical challenge. A few days ago I got offered a sweet little chance to take a plane ticket and fly to the west coast. I'm at the point where stress and emotional strain is causing me to make mistakes I regret almost as soon as I make them. It's a domino effect and I want out.
So I said yes.
I've never been to the west coast. I've dreamt of it like any young girl would but what east coaster doesn't want to compare beaches?
I just miss my babies.
They're still in San Angelo with their daddy, looking forward to a week long visit from their grand father and great grand father. While I am glad they get the family time... I just don't want to be there in that tiny place for it.
Iris was all flustered that I might see Hollywood without her. Aeva probably didnt understand what I was explaining about coming back soon. I laid them down in their beds, kissed them good night...and stole away.
Yes that's guilt you hear. I want so badly to have them sitting with me on this bus sharing my gypsy blood antics and holding their hands when I finally meet the waters lapping on the shore of the west coast.
Next week when I return, we start our move to Maryland so that the girls can be close to their daddy and me. I'm just hoping that when I return I'll have a better grasp on how to tackle this fork in the road of my life and minimize the mistakes I can't take back.
We just stopped at a gas station and while I grabbed a coffe I looked around for my two blondies whom surely are going for high fructose corn syrup in licensed character bottles.
My gypsy blood needs her gypsy girls.
I know. It's been a while huh? I took down my Facebook and 'ran away' from the social media world. It took a little while before texts flooded my phone to see if something awful had happened. Was I 'ok'? You realize, I started this blog BECAUSE something awful happened. I find the notion humorous.
No. Nothing 'awful' happened to me. Not really anyhow. I just reached that point where I was on chatter overload. Everything grated my sanity and I took a break. I knew I'd return. I figured, eh, a week. That became two. That hit 4 before the texts got whinny and I might as well go back to Facebook where the pleas keep to their own walls. I put it off for days which is surprising to me ABOUT me.
Goes to show huh?
Back to this bumpy road that makes mobile blogging an optical challenge. A few days ago I got offered a sweet little chance to take a plane ticket and fly to the west coast. I'm at the point where stress and emotional strain is causing me to make mistakes I regret almost as soon as I make them. It's a domino effect and I want out.
So I said yes.
I've never been to the west coast. I've dreamt of it like any young girl would but what east coaster doesn't want to compare beaches?
I just miss my babies.
They're still in San Angelo with their daddy, looking forward to a week long visit from their grand father and great grand father. While I am glad they get the family time... I just don't want to be there in that tiny place for it.
Iris was all flustered that I might see Hollywood without her. Aeva probably didnt understand what I was explaining about coming back soon. I laid them down in their beds, kissed them good night...and stole away.
Yes that's guilt you hear. I want so badly to have them sitting with me on this bus sharing my gypsy blood antics and holding their hands when I finally meet the waters lapping on the shore of the west coast.
Next week when I return, we start our move to Maryland so that the girls can be close to their daddy and me. I'm just hoping that when I return I'll have a better grasp on how to tackle this fork in the road of my life and minimize the mistakes I can't take back.
We just stopped at a gas station and while I grabbed a coffe I looked around for my two blondies whom surely are going for high fructose corn syrup in licensed character bottles.
My gypsy blood needs her gypsy girls.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Fowl play
I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking: Hey look at that, she's doing a mid day post! Could this mean she wont be posting at 3am when all sensible adults are asleep in their beds because she's going to sleep at a normal hour?
Fat chance. I just wanted to write early, plain and simple.
Im sure theres a few of you going 'Well DAMN, what am I supposed to read when I wake up in the middle of the night or am sitting on the pot in the morning if she's posting NOW and not while Im blissfully unconscious?? She's throwing off my morning routine!'
And I feel so incredibly awful about this because you know, y'all are all so gosh darn loyal readers that you follow my every post and leave me amazing comments of encouragement.
Can you hear the sarcasm? Its DEAFENING. Its ok though. I know who y'all are. All 50+ of you that click on my links while you do your morning rituals for a little laugh. On the other hand theres my 5 registered followers. Maybe I should just treat them to cake, unicorns, and rainbows. Take that Anonymous viewers! Cake! Unicorns! AND Rainbows!
Speaking of chickens. Thats whats for dinner. Yesterday one of my fellow bloggers and highly talented friends posted about how grossed out she was with the whole chicken she was cleaning and trussing for dinner. She thought it felt like a small naked child. I thought that was putting it mildly. I've always thought it felt more like it was a cold naked dead baby. Try getting THAT image when you're 8 months pregnant with a child that hasn't allowed you to keep much down. While I was sobbing about how I just COULDN'T carve up the poor naked baby because id KILL it...I let it fall to the ground.
I never said it was a rational thought.
That was a little over 8 years ago. Ever since then I have had someone else carve up the chicken and/or dress it. For the most part I just kept a whole chicken in the fridge hoping I could casually ask a guest cut it up. Other times I bribed/threatened people.
Lately, for obvious reasons, there hasn't been anyone readily available to take care of the chicken slaughter. I was staring at the cold bagged little bodies at the commissary a few weeks ago when I decided I needed to get over my fear of dead whole chickens. It helped that this commissary doesn't carry rotisserie chickens, they were out of chicken breasts, and the butcher denied my request to cut it up for me. I didn't think it would be wise to bribe and/or threaten him. Just to make me that much more determined to get over the whole morbidity of a whole chicken, I bought two.
Needless to say, because I am so a-fucking-mazing...the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd attempts at roasted chicken were spectacular. It also goes without saying that Iris generally requests this often now. What is it with kids and repetitive menus??
I gag and get goosebumps (or should I say chicken bumps? ug...) most of the time I am washing the infant sized things and I still only use tongs to clear out and dry the cavity, but it gets done.
Today I was prepping a chicken for the oven before I leave to the gym (no I dont leave the oven on when im gone, the Ex is here with the kids. He monitors) when Aeva sauntered in.
Aeva: Momma, I want some more grapes; WHOA!! Whats dat!?
Me: Its a bird.
Aeva: A BIRD?!
Me: (*shiver* CRAP. Why did I just say that?! That makes it worse!) I mean, its a chicken.
Aeva: A...chicken?? WOW! Dats cool! Its a BIRD, its a CHICKEN!
Me: Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a DOG!
Me: (still trying to get done shoving napkins up the chicken's wazoo) Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a SHEEP!
Iris walks in to see the commotion. Lately she's becoming a little attached to me. I dont want to think what this means nor why its happening in this precise moment in life. It can wait. It makes her a little jealous of Aeva which is why she is prompted to be so cuddly towards me. She's always been a daddy's girl so I am pleasantly surprised albiet taken aback most times.
Iris: Momma, I love you so VERY much. Can I have a hug and a kiss?
My ever oblivious child, she hasn't realized Im wrist deep in a fowl. Ug. Theres just no good way to say these things.
Me: And I love you but can it wait or would you like a dose of salmonella?
Iris: (backing away) Ill...wait...
Aeva: ITS A BIRD! (No she doesn't skip a beat)
Me: Its. A. Chicken. (Losing patience here. I cannot get over the gross feeling of pulling thread tight around raw chicken skin)
Aeva: Its an ELEPHANT! "PBRRRRWWWWW!!!!" (thats her imitation of an elephant trumpeting and my poor ability to phonetically spell it. For emphasis she signed the word elephant, using her arm as her imaginary trunk)
This. This right here is what makes even this incredibly disgusting cooking requirement survivable. Covered in chicken guts and having trouble swallowing without a threat of upchucking, both my kids still want to hug me, love me, and make me laugh till I cry.
That and the AMAZING smell emanating from the kitchen.
You're thinking: Hey look at that, she's doing a mid day post! Could this mean she wont be posting at 3am when all sensible adults are asleep in their beds because she's going to sleep at a normal hour?
Fat chance. I just wanted to write early, plain and simple.
Im sure theres a few of you going 'Well DAMN, what am I supposed to read when I wake up in the middle of the night or am sitting on the pot in the morning if she's posting NOW and not while Im blissfully unconscious?? She's throwing off my morning routine!'
And I feel so incredibly awful about this because you know, y'all are all so gosh darn loyal readers that you follow my every post and leave me amazing comments of encouragement.
Can you hear the sarcasm? Its DEAFENING. Its ok though. I know who y'all are. All 50+ of you that click on my links while you do your morning rituals for a little laugh. On the other hand theres my 5 registered followers. Maybe I should just treat them to cake, unicorns, and rainbows. Take that Anonymous viewers! Cake! Unicorns! AND Rainbows!
Speaking of chickens. Thats whats for dinner. Yesterday one of my fellow bloggers and highly talented friends posted about how grossed out she was with the whole chicken she was cleaning and trussing for dinner. She thought it felt like a small naked child. I thought that was putting it mildly. I've always thought it felt more like it was a cold naked dead baby. Try getting THAT image when you're 8 months pregnant with a child that hasn't allowed you to keep much down. While I was sobbing about how I just COULDN'T carve up the poor naked baby because id KILL it...I let it fall to the ground.
I never said it was a rational thought.
That was a little over 8 years ago. Ever since then I have had someone else carve up the chicken and/or dress it. For the most part I just kept a whole chicken in the fridge hoping I could casually ask a guest cut it up. Other times I bribed/threatened people.
Lately, for obvious reasons, there hasn't been anyone readily available to take care of the chicken slaughter. I was staring at the cold bagged little bodies at the commissary a few weeks ago when I decided I needed to get over my fear of dead whole chickens. It helped that this commissary doesn't carry rotisserie chickens, they were out of chicken breasts, and the butcher denied my request to cut it up for me. I didn't think it would be wise to bribe and/or threaten him. Just to make me that much more determined to get over the whole morbidity of a whole chicken, I bought two.
Needless to say, because I am so a-fucking-mazing...the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd attempts at roasted chicken were spectacular. It also goes without saying that Iris generally requests this often now. What is it with kids and repetitive menus??
I gag and get goosebumps (or should I say chicken bumps? ug...) most of the time I am washing the infant sized things and I still only use tongs to clear out and dry the cavity, but it gets done.
Today I was prepping a chicken for the oven before I leave to the gym (no I dont leave the oven on when im gone, the Ex is here with the kids. He monitors) when Aeva sauntered in.
Aeva: Momma, I want some more grapes; WHOA!! Whats dat!?
Me: Its a bird.
Aeva: A BIRD?!
Me: (*shiver* CRAP. Why did I just say that?! That makes it worse!) I mean, its a chicken.
Aeva: A...chicken?? WOW! Dats cool! Its a BIRD, its a CHICKEN!
Me: Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a DOG!
Me: (still trying to get done shoving napkins up the chicken's wazoo) Its a chicken.
Aeva: Its a SHEEP!
Iris walks in to see the commotion. Lately she's becoming a little attached to me. I dont want to think what this means nor why its happening in this precise moment in life. It can wait. It makes her a little jealous of Aeva which is why she is prompted to be so cuddly towards me. She's always been a daddy's girl so I am pleasantly surprised albiet taken aback most times.
Iris: Momma, I love you so VERY much. Can I have a hug and a kiss?
My ever oblivious child, she hasn't realized Im wrist deep in a fowl. Ug. Theres just no good way to say these things.
Me: And I love you but can it wait or would you like a dose of salmonella?
Iris: (backing away) Ill...wait...
Aeva: ITS A BIRD! (No she doesn't skip a beat)
Me: Its. A. Chicken. (Losing patience here. I cannot get over the gross feeling of pulling thread tight around raw chicken skin)
Aeva: Its an ELEPHANT! "PBRRRRWWWWW!!!!" (thats her imitation of an elephant trumpeting and my poor ability to phonetically spell it. For emphasis she signed the word elephant, using her arm as her imaginary trunk)
This. This right here is what makes even this incredibly disgusting cooking requirement survivable. Covered in chicken guts and having trouble swallowing without a threat of upchucking, both my kids still want to hug me, love me, and make me laugh till I cry.
That and the AMAZING smell emanating from the kitchen.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Indecent exposure
I may just be able to learn from my own mistakes ladies and gents.
I am coming to the realization that I have a knack for embarrassing myself with how I dress..or as yesterday was the case, DONT dress. I also have a bad habit of locking myself out by means of leaving/losing my IDs. On this base, you must have your military ID in order to get in through the gate. If you dont have your Mil ID, then you can stop at the Guest Center outside the gate and use your drivers license to get a pass.
But of course if I dont have my Mil ID, chances are good that I also dont have my drivers license. As of late I cant even FIND my drivers license. What does this mean? It means Im quite screwed.
The first time I left my wallet at home was on a morning that I was running late to drop Iris off at school. I jumped out of bed, wrapped Aeva up in a blanket and sped out the gate and down the street. Coming back I realized my oversight and thought I could sweeten up the gate guard into letting me back in since they see me EVERY single weekday. I know two spouses who get waved in, I should be able to get waved in too right?
Couldn't be any more wrong. I was turned away and directed to the Guest Center.
Let me paint you a picture. I was wearing pink PJ pants with white polka dots and the Air Force PT shirt I had slept in. Because I had literally RUSHED out of the house...I was also sans a bra. I was at least coherent enough to slip into my pink fuzzy slippers (I have been known to drive stick barefoot). My hair was in its usual messy bun only it never looks as cute as it does on other women. My hair likes to be impossible. I threaten it with shaving it off but then my face tells me Id have worse problems in the mirror if I did that.
I found a sweatshirt in the trunk so I at least averted the braless embarrassment but when I get one stroke of good luck I just KNOW something else is coming. The tiny Guest Center was crowded with contrators awaiting passes when I got there.
*Cricket*Cricket* yep. I was that poor a sight. But thats not where the other shoe dropped.
Because I didn't have ANY form of ID and both my neighbor and my Ex were unavailable to escort me in to the base I was given a police escort.
Course they couldn't allow me to drive the half mile to house though. Thats too easy. Or, 'illegal' in their opinion. I was escorted in the BACK of the cop car.
Nothing like getting dropped off at your house in your bedroom worst and then having to climb back in with your wallet so you could walk through the Guest Center again and claim your vehicle.
I swore that this would never happen to me again, but really y'all should know me better by now.
Of course it happened again.
I managed a bra this time since it was well after noon. I was wearing little shorts because the days have been getting warmer and I shaved my legs (women will understand that sentiment). Feeling every bit like the Wonder Woman on my shirt I thought I could rock knee high boots. It was raining so I substituted boots with pink and purple plaid galoshes. No ones gonna see me anyways. I was just driving up and grabbing Iris.
I sat at the corner gas station for 20 minutes waiting on my friend and savior Jen to come fetch Iris from me so she could get my ID at the house. I was NOT going to stride in to the Guest Center in that get up.
Tonight I needed filtered water because theres no way I am gonna drink this nasty liquid calcium water that San Angelo pipes into my tap. I ran out of gallons but I always have a 24 pack of bottled water riding in the jeep. I meant to make myself some coffee and sit on the porch so I had pulled on knee high fuzzy boots because I was too lazy to change from itty bitties to long pants, and for lack of finding my regular hoodie I fished out my Tinker bell halloween one.
I was THIS close to walking out of my patio to my car when I caught myself. This,...was all too familiar. I sat my happy ass back down. Coffee can wait till tomorrow.
I am coming to the realization that I have a knack for embarrassing myself with how I dress..or as yesterday was the case, DONT dress. I also have a bad habit of locking myself out by means of leaving/losing my IDs. On this base, you must have your military ID in order to get in through the gate. If you dont have your Mil ID, then you can stop at the Guest Center outside the gate and use your drivers license to get a pass.
But of course if I dont have my Mil ID, chances are good that I also dont have my drivers license. As of late I cant even FIND my drivers license. What does this mean? It means Im quite screwed.
The first time I left my wallet at home was on a morning that I was running late to drop Iris off at school. I jumped out of bed, wrapped Aeva up in a blanket and sped out the gate and down the street. Coming back I realized my oversight and thought I could sweeten up the gate guard into letting me back in since they see me EVERY single weekday. I know two spouses who get waved in, I should be able to get waved in too right?
Couldn't be any more wrong. I was turned away and directed to the Guest Center.
Let me paint you a picture. I was wearing pink PJ pants with white polka dots and the Air Force PT shirt I had slept in. Because I had literally RUSHED out of the house...I was also sans a bra. I was at least coherent enough to slip into my pink fuzzy slippers (I have been known to drive stick barefoot). My hair was in its usual messy bun only it never looks as cute as it does on other women. My hair likes to be impossible. I threaten it with shaving it off but then my face tells me Id have worse problems in the mirror if I did that.
I found a sweatshirt in the trunk so I at least averted the braless embarrassment but when I get one stroke of good luck I just KNOW something else is coming. The tiny Guest Center was crowded with contrators awaiting passes when I got there.
*Cricket*Cricket* yep. I was that poor a sight. But thats not where the other shoe dropped.
Because I didn't have ANY form of ID and both my neighbor and my Ex were unavailable to escort me in to the base I was given a police escort.
Course they couldn't allow me to drive the half mile to house though. Thats too easy. Or, 'illegal' in their opinion. I was escorted in the BACK of the cop car.
Nothing like getting dropped off at your house in your bedroom worst and then having to climb back in with your wallet so you could walk through the Guest Center again and claim your vehicle.
I swore that this would never happen to me again, but really y'all should know me better by now.
Of course it happened again.
I managed a bra this time since it was well after noon. I was wearing little shorts because the days have been getting warmer and I shaved my legs (women will understand that sentiment). Feeling every bit like the Wonder Woman on my shirt I thought I could rock knee high boots. It was raining so I substituted boots with pink and purple plaid galoshes. No ones gonna see me anyways. I was just driving up and grabbing Iris.
I sat at the corner gas station for 20 minutes waiting on my friend and savior Jen to come fetch Iris from me so she could get my ID at the house. I was NOT going to stride in to the Guest Center in that get up.
Tonight I needed filtered water because theres no way I am gonna drink this nasty liquid calcium water that San Angelo pipes into my tap. I ran out of gallons but I always have a 24 pack of bottled water riding in the jeep. I meant to make myself some coffee and sit on the porch so I had pulled on knee high fuzzy boots because I was too lazy to change from itty bitties to long pants, and for lack of finding my regular hoodie I fished out my Tinker bell halloween one.
I was THIS close to walking out of my patio to my car when I caught myself. This,...was all too familiar. I sat my happy ass back down. Coffee can wait till tomorrow.
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