Made the Grade!

My final grade for the summer quarter was an 87.84! While I would have *preferred* an "A", I'm content with a high "B." Not bad after 20 years away from college, no?

School, More School, and Other Assorted Stuff

Okay, so my first day back at work was today, and boy howdy -- was it HARD to get up with the alarm clock this morning! This was compounded by the fact that our lovely kitteh decided to howl every 15 seconds starting at 1am. JF finally drug his poor, tired self out of bed and made her lay with him on the couch. Of course, this was what she wanted all along, so it wasn't too much of an imposition on her.

The alarm rang at o'dark-thirty this morning, and I stumbled into the shower, bleary-eyed. (In the summer, I sleep as late as I can possibly manage. That's the only benefit that I can see to having a teenager -- sometimes, she sleeps even later than I do. And, if by some miracle she's awakens before me, she smooshes her butt into the crevice in the couch cushions and plays XBOX without bothering to wake me. It's at those moments that I am SUPREMELY glad that she no longer craves my company every second of the day. Where was I? Oh, yes -- the shower.)

I get into the shower, and am promptly clonked on the head by the hand-held nozzle while simultaneously having my back scalded by excruciatingly hot water because the last person to use the shower didn't turn that knob all the way off. What a way to start off the day! I'm just glad that I wasn't clonked in the jaw! (Speaking of jaw -- I was supposed to go see the oral surgeon about my TMJ, and his office called and said that they checked my insurance, and it doesn't cover TMJ. So, if I wanted to still go to that consult, it would be $568 out of pocket, and we don't do financing, thank you very much. Guess I'll suffer with a sore jaw for a while...)

I get to school, and go to my new assignment, and we find that our two adjoining classrooms have been reduced into one. And all the furniture from BOTH classrooms are now shoved, higgledy-piggledy, into one room. We spend all day moving furniture from one spot to another, trying to get most of it to fit. We worked our tails off in that room today, and it STILL looks like an educational supply store threw up and then exploded in there.

I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. The sleep I *didn't* get last night is now catching up to me. My jaw is beginning to ache, despite judicious application of ice cream, so it's off to get the ibuprofen with the naproxen sodium chaser, and then lights out. I have another full day of furniture wrangling and shelf clearing ahead of me.

I have yet to get my final grade for my class, but it should be posted some time tomorrow. I will post the final grade if I haven't committed seppuku. I have three more days in the classroom before kids arrive, and two weeks until I start my next class. So, the next few months are going to be OUTRAGEOUSLY busy, with work every day, school on Monday and Wednesday nights, and Girl Scouts on Thursdays and the occasional adult meeting on Tuesdays. If you don't see me for a while, check in to make sure that I haven't imploded.

Commander Bun-Bun

In our house, we love animals. We are mainly cat people, though we like other types of animals, but all we co-habit with is kittehs.

JF and I both had dogs and cats while growing up, and the living with a dog wasn't something we really wanted to repeat. Not that there's anything at all wrong with dogs -- I guess we just find them too high-maintenance. Our cat doesn't really require much in the way of output on our part -- feed her, change her litter, and occasionally snuggle when she's in the mood. She was easy to take care of when we had a toddler running around the house.

So, the other day, Offspring and I happened to go into the pet store to get some dog cookies for my mother's Westies. We were going to take a trip out to Mom's while they were away to make sure the house was still habitable. Mom had someone coming in daily to make sure they had food and water, but she said she'd feel better if she knew that there was someone who cared about them to come and check on them. While we were in the pet store, there was a display full of the cutest little bunnies you have ever seen! They were all playful, and hopping around like mad. I immediately spied this one brown bunny in the middle of the cage, who was just standing on her hind legs, looking up at me. I think that's when I lost my heart to her.

JF wanted no part of bunnies. He said that bunnies stink, and that if we got a bunny, he was claiming no responsibility for it. AT ALL. The bunny would be our bunny -- Offspring's and mine -- and he would not clean up after any bunny, period. He just wanted that clear. Yep. Got it. Our bunny. Crystal clear.

After we came back from visiting Mom's dogs, we went to the local PetSmart. I got a rabbit starter kit compete with cage, bedding, treats, toys, food bowl, and water bottle. We took all the bun stuff home, and set it up underneath Offspring's loft bed. Once Offspring had cleaned up her room, we went back out to the small pet store to pick out the bunny.

The little brown bunny was still there, and I asked the clerk to let me hold her. I was just wanting to see if she was as sweet as she seemed. Offspring wanted one of the black-and-white bunnies, but I was all about Little Brown Bunny. She *was* as sweet as she seemed. She immediately snuggled up to my shoulder, and burrowed her face into my neck. I could feel her whiskers tickling my neck, and I was a goner. Offspring held her while I paid for her, and talked baby talk all the way back to the house to her. "It's okay sweetie -- we're almost home. One more turn!"

We named her Hershey. She's the cutest thing, EVER. The geniuses at the pet store didn't know whether she was male or female; "She came in a box marked female, but sometimes they're wrong..." And they had no clue how big she'd get, or how old she was. So, we're going with "female", and "still pretty young" because she's so little. She fits in your hand, and stretched from the end of your palm to the tip of your middle finger, so basically one hand length. So far, she like strawberries, and loves to lick Offspring's fingers. She's very placid, and content to roam around her cage or snuggle with you as long as you like. I guess I was missing the snuggling. Now, I have it in spades!

Surgery Update

I am recovering nicely, and expect the worst to be past me. The surgery itself, I don't remember at all. I just lay there in the chair as they hooked up my IV, oxygen, and blood pressure cuff. They asked me a few questions, and shortly after, the surgeon came in, ran two drugs into my IV line, and that was all she wrote. It seemed like only a few minutes, and they were hauling me up out of the chair to head to recovery.

This time around, I was feeling a lot less "out of it", and apparently wasn't talking nonsense. Or at least, none that anyone told me about. As JF was leaving to pull the car around, the nurse walked him out with my post-surgery instructions, and I heard her tell him, "The lights are on, but nobody's home", meaning I was still under the influence of the meds despite how lucid I seemed. Hey! I take exception to that! I came home, read for a bit, and once JF had loaded me up with my prescriptions, I napped off and on.

Woke up a little more sore than I expected today, but that was still well within normal range. I still feel like I got punched in the jaw, but it's not like I got punched in the jaw by Ali. It's more like I got an uppercut from a clumsy bodybuilder -- one who's strong enough to put some hurt on you, but uncoordinated enough not to land the blow to maximum effect.

The only good thing about this is that I only have one wisdom tooth left, so if that one has to come out, I shouldn't have to see the oral surgeon ANY MORE! He's a nice guy and everything, but I hate dental work. At least with him, over the actual dentist, I'm asleep for it all!

Paging Dr. Freud

Some of you might already know that I'm preparing for some oral surgery on Monday. Nothing too extreme, but I have an impacted wisdom tooth that's got to come out, and I wanted to get it done and over with before I had to report back to school. It wouldn't be good to start off the year with a requesting a couple of sick days.

I'm a little freaked out about surgery, but this will be the second time I've had this procedure, so it's not quite so scary. I remember thinking last time, just before the drugs kicked in..."I *really* don't want to do this!" But, in no time at all, it was over and I had cheeks that looked like a bad Marlon Brando "Godfather" impersonator. But, then again, I remember thinking the exact same thought as Offspring's head was crowning during birth. "I REALLY don't want to do this!!!" Funny how passing a bowling ball-sized object through a drinking straw-sized portion of your anatomy can play havoc with your emotions.

But, with the worry of impending surgery, I've been having a sort-of recurring dream that I've had for many years: the losing of the teeth. Now, when I say "losing of the teeth", I mean not just losing a tooth here and there, but very VIVID dreams of doing normal activity and suddenly every single tooth in my head falls out. Fine one minute, and the next: poof! Toothless crone.

The details differ from dream to dream, but the ultimate outcome is that I end up with no teeth in one fell swoop. In one dream, I remember getting up like normal, and heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and having the toothbrush knock out a tooth or two, and the rest following like dominoes. So, there I am, with toothpaste dripping down my chin and a heap of what look like white Chiclets filling up my palm.

Other variations involve me thinking a tooth is loose, and going to push on it with a finger, and having that tooth and all the rest fall out into the sink. Or, the one where I bite into a crisp apple, and draw back, only to find all the teeth are stuck in said apple. Or the one where I'm just suddenly able to spit teeth into my palm like you'd spit out watermelon seeds.

Crazy, right? Back away slowly, people.

I know Freudian Dream Analysis would say that I'm vain and worried about the loss of my beauty, but since I feel like you can't really lose what you never had, that's not so much of an option. (And, yes -- I DO have self-esteem issues, but this isn't so much a dig at myself as it is a sad fact. It's not like I was going to be on the cover of any magazines any time soon. Anyway...)

I even talked to a guy who had a "dream analysis" blog. Apparently, it's a pretty common dream, and it could also relate to your sense of confidence, and how others see you. I mean, a nice smile (or a not-so-nice one) is something most people notice right off the bat. So, if you lose all your teeth, you might be embarrassed to face people, and your confidence would take a hit. Or, it may convey a sense of powerlessness -- you may feel that things are out of your control, or that your voice isn't being heard.

Whatever the root cause is, come Monday, I will be one tooth less. Maybe I should talk to the dentist now about a set of dentures -- sort of a preemptive strike. Best to be prepared, just in case.

Wrong On So Many Levels

Offspring has outgrown so many things lately that it's getting hard to keep track. She once used to BEG us to tune the satellite radio to Radio Disney, but that has long gone the way of the dodo. I don't think I've seen my delicate flower of womanhood in a dress in about 2 years, at the least. She's dropped cartoons and Disney Channel shows for Japanese anime shows, which she discusses at great lengths with her friends. Also long gone are the crafty projects that we used to do together and the little-girl fascination with nail polish and horses. These days, the nail polish is black, and the only horses I see are the ones that she draws getting hacked to bits in samurai battles. (Well, maybe that last is a bit of an exaggeration. They aren't "samurai" battles, they're demons who fight using parts of their souls. And, generally, there aren't any horses to speak of.)

We used to watch a lot of kids TV -- anyone who has kids of a certain age know exactly what I mean when I say I watched a full boatload of "Blue's Clues". Offspring had certain videotapes that she watched with approaching near-religious fervor. Among those tapes (and see; it was so long ago that they were TAPES, not DVDs.) was "Big Bird Goes to Japan", which might have been the starting point for the love of all things Japanese she currently exhibits; and a bajillion "Rugrats" episodes. Her most favorite, though, were the Disney Sing-Along tapes. We watched the Christmas and Halloween ones at least once a week, and usually a lot more often than that. We actually wore out VHS copies of both of those tapes, requiring new ones because the screaming without them was hideous to hear.

Then there were the shows that we tried desperately to keep her away from because they made her father and I want to shove icepicks deep within our own brains. "Barney" was pretty much universally hated, and was something she only watched at other people's houses. I think we had her convinced that Barney tapes could only live at other people's houses, and we weren't allowed to own them. I particularly hated "Caillou," and still do , even unto this day. He's such a whiny little prat that I want to smack him. I can't have it on at school, or the red haze descends, and pretty soon I'm being called in the office for yelling inappropriate things at the TV and waving appendages in the air that should not be waved when children are about.

Juggling Freak's favorite show had to be The Big Comfy Couch. He had a serious thing for Loonette the Clown, and even today will make lewd comments about her, and the size of her...um...melons. (Hey, I said it was wrong on so many levels! I warned you ahead of time!) Instead of walking around the house singing, "...on the big, comfy couch!", JF walked about singing the praises of "...the big-breasted clown!" I used to chuck small toys and pacifiers at him when I heard his more-risque version of that theme song, but worse BY FAR was his fascination with the Clock Rug Stretch. It was embarrassing to see a grown man drool and say, "C'mon nine-fifteen!"

It makes me glad that Offspring outgrew that particular show.....

Trying Not to Dwell

I've been managing to stay busy this summer, which has been a blessing in itself. Not only does it keep me from becoming so sedentary that I threaten to petrify like a fossil, it has also had the added benefit of giving me very little time to dwell on things.

Those of you who have known me for any decent length of time know a little bit about my backstory; know a little bit about my past. You know that I raped when I was 20 years old. April and June are always hard months for me, because I tend to dwell on the rape and the aftermath. June is especially hard because I tend to give in to "what if"-itis -- that little mind-screw I do to myself where I obsess over the abortion and the child that would have resulted. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would she/he look like me, or like the rapist? Who would I be now? Who would the child be? Could I love it enough? Would I have kept it? Keeping myself from thinking about that child, who now be old enough to graduate from high school.

Probably the worst part of all of this is the guilt that I lay at my own doorstep in the whole sorry situation. I was raped by someone I knew, someone I was dating. And, for some people, "date rape" just doesn't register with them. Generally, these are the same people who don't think a man can rape his wife, simply because there's a history and a marriage certificate there, but that's neither here nor there. There is still a lot of stigma associated with rape, and especially with date rape. There's always an air of "what did you do to deserve it?" when you tell people that you were date raped.

I try not to think about it, but it was a very formative experience, occurring at a time when most young people are moving out of the family home and trying their wings for the first time. When they are beginning to forge their own path in this world, and to let go of their dependence on Mom and Dad and to live as adults themselves. I was in college, working hard. I was taking a full complement of classes, and was working three jobs; two at the college, and every shift I could pick up at the local movie theater. I had plans to move into my own place with a couple of friends, and we were looking forward to freedom. Looking forward to being adults on our own; and on our own terms.

And then, all of a sudden, I wasn't. I was frozen in place by the rape. Time stopped for me. I was scared to go out, scared to walk across the quad by myself. Checking the locks on the windows and doors compulsively, and imagining every shadow was closing in on me. I was never very self-confident to begin with, and after the rape, I had virtually nothing at all. No confidence, no energy, no bravery. It was all gone. He stole so much more than just sex from me. My safety, my sense of wonder, my sex. Never being thin to begin with, I began to hide under multiple layers of clothes until I looked as round as I was tall. Maybe all those layers would protect me, or at least discourage any other would-be attacker. I became asexual, hiding under layers, and behind a curtain of shaggy hair.

During the counseling session I had to attend before the abortion, the therapist postulated that maybe I "stay fat" because it's safe. That I deliberately try to make myself unattractive so that I'm not a target for other men, other predators. This used to make me sad, thinking that my dislike of myself was so strong that I would deliberately choose to alienate myself from the rest of the world through obesity. And then, one day, I thought, "Fuck you! I was fat WHEN I was raped! It didn't seem to matter so much to him!" And that's because rape isn't about attractiveness, it's about power and control. It's about being able to bend someone so totally to your will, whether it's through manipulation or aggression. In my case, it was a sneak attack, but the mind-screw that came with it afterward was sheer power through manipulation. So, not only did I get raped, I also got fucked over by the system, too. Being fat never made me feel safe. It still doesn't. It makes me feel unloveable and undervalued, but that's a whole other kettle of fish.

So, I've spent my time working this summer, concentrating on the class that I'm taking, and trying not to dwell on the things that usually pull me down into the mire around this time of year. Trying not to pity myself, and play the what-if game. Instead, I thank God for the things that I do have, and feel grateful that I made it through to the other side, rough though the journey was. It has shaped me, both for better and for worse. I try not to think about the child that never will be. And, most of all, I try to forgive myself and let go.

Migraines Suck!

As if many of you didn't know already, I am here to inform you of the vast suckitutde of migraine headaches. Never say I'm not informative.

I've been on migraine medication for about two months now; stuff that was SUPPOSED to not only lessen the severity of my migraines, but also to lessen the frequency of said migraines. I am here to formally call bullshit on the severity aspect. Any time you can vomit on yourself and not really give a damn because your brain is threatening to explode, I don't think you can chalk that one in the "less severe" column.

Also, this medication was supposed to free me from the cares and worries of migraine headaches, and it hasn't done that, either. Damn those lying advertising people! I would say "heads will roll!" at this point, but I think my own head did enough of that last night, and I really don't wish it on anyone else. Even to the people I dislike intensely.

In Celebration of 100 Years

Most of you who are long-time readers will remember that I am a Girl Scout Leader, and I'm about to start my 9th year as an adult volunteer. I have spent quite a few years devoted to helping the young women of my area become proud, strong women of tomorrow, and I've been grateful for the opportunity to do it.

The Girl Scouts of the USA was founded in 1912, and that means we're getting very close to celebrating our centennial anniversary. The Girl Scout Advocacy Network is trying to drum up support for a bill introduced to the get the US Mint to release a special $1 commemorative coin.

If you are so inclined, please follow this link, and ask your local officials to help get this bill passed.

http://www.girlscouts4girls.org/girlscouts/home/

We will need 290 House co-sponsors, and 67 in the Senate. Congress only approves 2 coins a year, and things need to happen quickly if we are to meet the 2012 deadline. If you care about a Girl Scout, please help. Thank you.

(The Public Service Announcement is now over. You may all return to your normal websurfing.)

More To Love

I'm not a reality-TV kind of gal. In the main, I don't care for reality TV at all. I never got into American Idol, and I haven't ever seen an episode of Survivor or The Hills. (I mainly watch Joel McHale of The Soup trash The Hills.)

I will admit to an unhealthy fixation to Bravo's Top Chef, though I don't really consider that a Reality TV show. I got really into TC late in season 2, so I didn't really have a vested interest in who won. But, when Season 3 rolled around, I was there with bells on. My favorite didn't make it to the top three (C.J.), but once the three was revealed, I was pulling for Dale. When Season Four started, I was pulling for Richard Blais from the start. I thought he was great, and loved his adventuresome spirit. JF liked Stephanie, the eventual winner; so we argued the merits of each back and forth all season long.

I will also confess to a guilty pleasure of America's Got Talent, simply because I adore the total train-wreckiness of it. You never know what's going to turn up next on AGT, and there are often some very talented people hidden among the dreck. Unfortunately, there's a lot more dreck than gold, and I'm often totally blown away by how much confidence people have in themselves and their often dubious "talents." For example, a woman got up on stage the other night, claiming that everyone she meets is just astounded and in awe of her talents -- and then she barked at people. It was as freaky as if you'd awoken to realize that you live inside a Salvador Dalí painting.

At any rate, on the Fox network, I noticed a promo clip for an upcoming Reality show called "More to Love", featuring plus-sized women. The tagline screamed that the average American woman is about a size 12/14, and the average female reality show contestant is a size 2. Then the promo showcased lots of clips of the "More to Love" contestants, most of them crying and talking about how much they just want someone to love them how they are. Betcha dollars to donuts that the producers force the ladies to compete in either a) a humiliating eating contest of some sort, or b) a humiliating swimsuit competition. Or maybe both, if there's such a thing as summer ratings week.

I feel a fat rant (and my inner rage) building......

I don't know whether or not I can actually watch this series, knowing that it's most likely just another excuse to "poke fun at the fatties". I would love to hope that it will be a great show that showcases the fact that loveable and beautiful people come in all shapes and sizes and celebrates women who don't happen to fit society's very narrow standard of beauty, but somehow, I don't think it will be. Fox isn't exactly known for taking the high road.

The best I can hope for is that it's not too humiliating for the contestants, and for fat people in general. Most of you know by now how much I do not care for those who warp other people's opinions of themselves, and this seems to me to be a recipe for a whole huge honking slice of the demographic pie who will later need some serious therapy.

One Down, Nine To Go

Well, week one of classes is finished. I've turned in my first two assignments, and taken the quiz on Unit One. Now, all I have to do is participate in the online discussions, start on Unit Two, and wait for my grades for Unit One to come in.

This class is proving a little harder than I expected. It's an Intro-level class, and I expected it to be a little more about the abstract -- more of an overview, really -- but we've jumped in with both feet. I'm a little out of my depth, as the subject matter is something I'm not familiar with at all. I'm enjoying it, at least when I'm not stressing about getting my assignments in via scanning and uploading and chewing my nails waiting for grades.

Going back to school after almost 20 years is frightening in how same and yet how different it all is. Maybe if I were actually on campus, it might strike me in a different way. Back in my day, "computer skills" consisted of programming, not uploading and file sharing and online text/video chats with your professor.

At any rate, it's nice to be back in school. If you're interested, I will keep all of you posted on what grades I get.
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Edited to add:
First set of grades are in, and I got a 93.34 on Quiz 1, a 100 on Quiz 2, and an 80 on my Unit One project. I'm still waiting on the grade for the classwork from Unit One, but I hope it will be a good one. I'm a bit bummed by the 80, but it's a decent grade, and I have room to improve. The thing about this class is that there's the practical knowledge to learn and the application of said knowledge, and my downfall was not applying all that I've absorbed from the text into applied knowledge. I have to work on that. But, I have to look at it this way -- I can only hope that that 80 is my lowest grade, and go from there. Not a bad start.

What In Hell Made Me Think I Could Do This?!?!

School (college) starts on Monday. I have spent the latter part of this week getting ready for the start of Summer Term. School (elementary school) ended on Wednesday, and since then, I have had to focus away from my full-time job, and onto my soon-to-be-starting school (college.)

Yesterday, I had to go downtown to the main administrative building to get my student ID, even though I will be taking an online class. The reason that I went ahead and got the student ID was so that I could get into various buildings, should I need them, like the library, and the student center. I also took my husband to lunch, and then we went to pick up my textbooks and some of the supplies. My God, I had forgotten how freaking expensive college is! Thank God I had some of the necessary supplies here at home, or I'd be in deep doo-doo.

This morning, I finished up my online orientation, and the requisite assignments that that entailed, and printed out the 10-week syllabus. I looked over the first lesson, and went ahead and read the first 3 chapters in the textbook. My overwhelming thought now, is "what in hell have you gotten yourself into? Don't you know you're pushing 40? It's not like you're a coed who can cram all night and still function like a living human being during class during the day!" A good bet for your entertainment for the next 10 weeks would be to stay tuned and watch me self-flagellate daily. That, or spontaneously combust. Oy.

Whine/Anti-Whine

Some of you lovely people read the Wednesday Whine, a sort of blog-Brigadoon that I've been involved with for quite a while. Some of you are not familiar with the concept, so I'll (briefly) explain:

A long time ago, a delightful bloggy friend named Phantom Scribbler hosted a weekly bitch-fest at her personal blog. It was a place where friends could complain and commiserate with each other over the joys and flops in their lives. It became a task too heavy for lovely PS, who allowed a collection of moderators to take over the idea and give it its own home. WW, as it is familiarly known, has been a great community, and I've greatly enjoyed taking part in it.

But, since I am colossally lazy, I have decided to repost here my submission for the WW, and this will keep all of you three dear readers updated on what's going on here at Chez KLee. Here follows my tale, told in whine/anti-whine format.

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W: I'm in a bad bad BAD situation at work. It hasn't been very much fun for several weeks. Tensions are high, and with only 2 days of school left, we're all testy and short tempered. But, most of the bad bad BAD situation makes me look bad to everyone else, even if that isn't actually the facts.

A/W: Got accepted back to school, so that mitigates some of the bad bad BAD stuff. I'm excited about it. It will allow me to mark off one of those things on my major "To Do" life lists.

W: Was supposed to have a scholarship to cover cost of tuition for Summer Term at said school, only to find a bill for almost 3K (that I seriously DON'T have) in the mail today. Uh.....guys?!? Hello?

A/W: If I am still going to school, it'll get my mom off my back. Plus, President Obama is urging people to further their education in times of economic crisis, so it's almost like I'm *helping!*

W: Am still sick. Not as sick as I was about a month ago, thank God. But, still sick. And, apparently, I now have high cholesterol, too. Thanks for that! Sickness involved almost accidentally overdosing on migraine drugs the other day, and a cyst on my neck that will have to be cut out at some point. Trying to save the day surgery for after school is done so I don't have to work or move during the recovery process.

A/W: At least I DIDN'T overdose, though I had double vision and serious nausea. And, I gotta figure that every day I'm not taking the Great Dirt Nap is a good day. So, yeah -- I'll count being alive among the anti-whines these days.

Maintaining Radio Silence

Never fear, my faithful three readers -- I have not gone gentle into that good night. (When I go, there won't be anything *gentle* about it. I plan to go, kicking and screaming.)

I have been very busy, as the end of all school years tend to be.

*We are winding up all of our end-of-the-year testing, and trying to tie up all the loose ends for the children who most likely won't be matriculating on to first grade. This is also usually the time where we have many visits from irate parents who want to harangue us, even though we've been telling them the same basic information since the first marking period. What do they expect when they don't bother to help their child(ren) with their school work? How can they say they're really surprised that little Johnny is failing kindergarten when we can't even get you to bring him to school every day, much less with pencils and crayons; and nevermind with completed homework? Anyway...it's the same song, every year.

*Offspring is going to be a rising eighth-grader, and with that comes the rush to get her portfolio together so she can audition for the Arts school here in town in the winter for a entering freshman for the following year. We are pushing hard at her to really work on her artwork, but I don't think it's sinking in on her. I really want her to get in this school -- it's fabulous academically, and the potential for her personal growth there would be incredible. The options left open to us if she's NOT accepted I don't even want to fathom.

*Speaking of school -- I have applied to go back to school myself. More on that as it develops, but that's in the extreme infancy stage right now. Haven't even been accepted, but hopefully that's nothing major to worry over.

*I often joke about living in the tropics, but my joke was made real today by the monsoon JF and I experienced as we went out to do the grocery shopping. We headed out to Sam's, and by the time we got there, the water was coming down so hard you could barely see, there was hail the size of Tic Tacs, and the wind was blowing us around like a candy wrapper in an updraft. JF clambered over the backseat like a monkey to get the big golf umbrella for me while he took the teeny collapsible one. We might as well have not even used the blasted brollies for all the good they did us! We were soaked to the skin within minutes, the the wind turned my heavy umbrella into kinetic sculpture. Funnily enough, the small umbrella survived unscathed. The employees at Sam's got a hearty giggle out of our drowned-rat appearance, and they even made a sale with the strategically-placed beach towels at the front entrance. JF snickered endlessly at the fact the umbrellas did nothing to help us, and wandered around muttering about "great big old fat rain."

*We had a Girl Scout appreciation dinner the other night for the leaders in our local unit, and the decision was made to hold it at our local Carrabba's. Now, I'm not a fan of Carrabba's, and I wouldn't have gone except for the fact that it was our end-of-the-year, hand out all the certificates of appreciation type of thing. Our Service Unit Manager called three weeks ahead of time, and reserved their back room so that our large party would not disturb any of the other patrons. She called back the day before our gathering to confirm. Everyting seemed fine -- they had us down for 35 people at 7pm. I was the first to arrive the next evening, at 6:30, in order to do a little bit of decorating on the tables. I was told they were getting our tables together. When the others arrived, they tried to direct us to tables in the middle of the restaurant. They'd given the tables in the back room away. To two people. We asked to speak with the manager. He refused to asked them to move, or to help us in any way. We explained that we'd had that room reserved for over 3 weeks, and we'd asked for that room SPECIFICALLY because we'd be making presentations, and getting up and down a lot, and we didn't want to disturb other diners. He still refused to give us the room. We were on the brink of walking; 25 irate PAYING customers; when one of our ladies sweet-talks him into shooing the parties in the back room out of there as quickly as he can without being ugly AND free desserts for all of us. As we're shown to the table, the hostess is as rude as she can possibly be to me. I would have been happier anywhere else. I will NEVER go to Carrabba's again. I sense an angry letter in my future.

That's pretty much all that's going on here. Offspring took a Girl Scout trip to Orlando this weekend, so I'm just waiting for the call that her bus is trundling up the turnpike, and I should hie my fanny up to the meeting place to fetch her. Stay alive out there, people!

Sick

I woke up this morning at 4:14am to a raging migraine. While this was distressing, the worst of it is that I had just been to the doctor on Monday to complain about headache pain. I've been having a low-grade chronic headache for about a month, which scares the bejeezus out of me.

The doc has me taking what is actually an anti-seizure medication, but which has been used successfully to minimize migraine symptoms and severity. I've been taking the meds for 2 days now. Not even hardly enough time to get into the bloodstream, much less do me any good.

So, the migraine this morning. It was bad. Really bad. Contemplating going-to-the-hospital sort of bad. I took meds, which didn't help, and I vomited for about three hours straight. Now my throat is raw, and my whole body hurts from heaving.

I called in sick to work, which I'm *sure* earned me brownie points because we are currently undergoing standardized testing, and need every available body. Never mind the fact that I couldn't even function until early this afternoon, much less work and help administer an exam.

I hate being sick. I hate migraines.

Switching Teams

I just read the amazing news that Senator Arlen Specter has switched his allegiance from the Republican to the Democratic party. His reasons for the move, he says, were due to increasing disagreement with viewpoints within his own party. Specter also said that he thought he would find it hard to be reelected, what with all the conservatives that are making up the Republican party these days.

What I find most stunning of all, though, was the quote from Republican Senate Party Leader Mitch McConnell. His opinion on the matter? He said, "... the switch posed a 'threat to the country', and "really relates to ... whether or not in the United States of America our people want the majority party to have whatever it wants, without restraint, without a check or balance."

Huh? You mean like what America has suffered under Bush for the last eight years? Including a war that's killing thousands of American lives and costing a mint -- the war that no one WANTS, and that most of the rest of the world's nations condemn us for? Or, maybe you meant floating asinine home loans to every Tom, Dick, and under-qualified Harry in the lower 48? The loans that caused our economy to go "BOOM!" and necessitate an astronomical bailout so company bigwigs can keep their golden parachutes while John Q. Public and his family try to make ends meet with less and just PRAY they don't get sick because they no longer have any health insurance? Man, that would just suck, wouldn't it?

-----------------------------

You know, generally, I'm not a political person. I tend to think most politicians are a bunch of snake-oil salesmen. But, I think we Americans suffered a lot under the tenure of the last eight years' administration, and I'm praying we can paper-clip, rubber band, and chewing gum our proud nation back together. I hold no ill will towards anyone who might be of a Republican bent, or any other persuasion. I have Republican friends and family members who feel very much in the minority these days. It's not so much about dissing you Republicans, and your core values, because most "more liberal" people have them, too. But, it IS time for another generation to have a shot at running the whole ball of wax. And it's okay that it's not just another WASP-y white guy whom most of the nation feels disenfranchised with. We need someone who believes that it's okay if gay people want to be married, or to provide health care for those who are sorely in need of it. Someone who helps pull our economy out of the toilet. Someone who understands that taxing the poor people the MOST, while taxing the wealthy the LEAST make *no sense whatsover.* Someone who can make America a good friend at the world's table again. We certainly need it.

Please Don't Share Your Germs

Offspring stayed home from school today, citing fever and nausea as the main reasons. After JF and I thoroughly grilled her about what, exactly, it was she was wanting to miss at school today, I gave in and took a sick day to be with her.

We have left her home by herself for a full day on VERY rare occasions, figuring that I was only three and a half minutes away through traffic, but leaving her home alone didn't seem like a good idea today. We had storms in the area, and coupled with the fact that I felt pretty sure that she would spend the bulk of the day on the couch playing the Wii and 360 and do no ACTUAL resting, I stayed home, too. Mainly to prevent said brain drainage on the video game front.

Offspring has a very bad habit of spiking fevers into the 103 - 105 range with very little effort, so I wanted to be home in case this was what was happening with her.

The fever lingered in a low-grade state all day, but apparently the nausea has gone bye-bye, since she ate both lunch and dinner with no difficulties.

I began feeling a little yucky about 30 minutes ago, and now have a very seasick-feeling stomach. I hope I don't have whatever she had. I hate it when she shares the bad stuff! Why couldn't she have just given me her wallet? Or her carton of Ben and Jerry's Cake Batter that was in the freezer? Why did she have to share the nausea?

I Sang To A Goat In Your Bathroom Because I'm AWESOME!

>This is an interesting meme that went around my school's email. Follow the directions to compose your sentence, and post your version in comments, if you would so kindly oblige me! Have fun!

The title sentence is mine, obviously...

Pick the month you were born:

January-------I kicked

February------I loved

March--------I karate chopped

April----------I licked

May----------I jumped on

June----------I smelled

July-----------I did the Macarena with

August--------I had lunch with

September----I danced with

October-------I sang to

November-----I yelled at

December-----I ran over

Pick the day (number) you were born on:

1-------a birdbath

2-------a monster

3-------a phone

4-------a fork

5-------a snowman

6-------a gangster

7-------my mobile phone

8-------my dog

9-------my best friends' boyfriend

10-------my neighbor

11-------my science teacher

12-------a banana

13-------a fireman

14-------a stuffed animal

15-------a goat

16-------a pickle

17-------your mom

18-------a spoon

19------ - a smurf

20-------a baseball bat

21-------a ninja

22-------Chuck Norris

23-------a noodle

24-------a squirrel

25-------a football player

26-------my sister

27-------my brother

28-------an iPod

29-------a surfer

30-------a homeless guy

31-------a llama

What is the last number of the year you were born:

1--------- in my car

2 --------- on your car

3 ----------- in a hole

4 ----------- under your bed

5 ----------- riding a Motorcycle

6 --------- sliding down a hill

7 --------- in an elevator

8---------- at the dinner table

9 -------- in line at the bank

0 -------- in your bathroom

Pick the color of shirt you are wearing:

White---------because I'm cool like that.

Black---------because that's how I roll.

Pink-----------because I'm NOT crazy.

Red-----------because the voices told me to.

Blue-----------because I'm sexy and I do what I want!

Green---------because I think I need some serious help.

Purple---------because I'm AWESOME!

Gray----------because Big Bird said to and he's my leader.

Yellow--------because someone offered me 1,000,000 dollars.

Orange--------because my family thinks I'm stupid anyway.

Brown---------because I can.

Other----------because I'm a Ninja!

None----------because I can't control myself!

Still Here, Still Got Nothin' to Contribute

I am here, having driven five states away from home -- a round trip of 1300+ miles in three days. My daughter's Girl Scout troop went snow skiing, and I accompanied them as a driver/chaperone. It was a nice trip, but it was fast. And, I mean commando-raid style fast.

Offspring skiied for about 12 minutes all total, which cheesed me off quite a bit. Then, on our last day there, 5 separate people in our party got injured within the space of a half an hour, and I wasn't quite so cheesed off anymore. I was glad that Offspring hadn't taken to skiing and wasn't one of the ones who took a tumble. Still a mite peeved that we drove all that way, and paid about $300 for the trip all told for her NOT to ski, but since I had basically the same attitude (bust my butt in the freezing snow? No thank you!) at her age, I won't squawk too loudly.




We are on Spring Break, with only the weekend left to go. Boo! I need at least another week! :) Hope all is well with all of you!

The Three B's

The first of the three B's was: Baltimore. I just traveled there for a work conference, which was great. I had never been that far north before, and I was looking forward to the trip, not only for the educational information that I was going to get out of it, but also for the complete change of scenery. Last year's conference was in Washington, D.C., and that was the farthest north I'd been up until that point.

JF was worried about me being in the Big City, so he told me not to go wandering around after dark, and to try not to walk anywhere alone. Knowing that Baltimore has some...um...*healthy* crime stats, I agreed. Plus, I've been held up before, and it's not a scene I care to repeat ever again.

As a fan of the late, great, and much-lamented TV show "Homicide: Life on the Street", I was curious to experience Baltimore for myself. I wanted to get a chance to take a picture on the station house steps, but, alas, that was not to be. We just didn't have enough down-time. It would have required a bit of a taxi drive, or a jaunt by Water Taxi, and it wasn't in the cards this trip. Maybe one day I'll be able to return, and that will be a must-see. Plus, I was under orders not to go alone, and truthfully, I didn't want to go all over Baltimore by myself anyway.

Our hotel was right next door to Camden Yards. I was surprised to see Camden Yards smack in the middle of downtown. Usually, the ball fields/stadiums are on the outskirts of town. My room was on the other side of the hotel, but some of the people in our group had great views down into the park. If only there had been a game.



The second B was: Binsk, as in La Binsk, an internet friend from waaay back. We were both denizens of a newsgroup devoted to the previously mentioned "Homicide", and have been friends for what seemed like forever, but without any chance to ever actually meet up. This trip provided us with a good reason! We made plans to grab a bite to eat down at the Inner Harbor, which was only a few blocks from our hotel and conference site.



Binsk brought her mother along, and we all had a lovely dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. It was great to finally meet her, and her mother was a true hoot. Unfortunately, they had to leave early the next morning to drive to Oklahoma so time was of the essence. If Binsk gives her permission, I will upload the photo of the two of us.

I arrived early, a few minutes before Binsk and Mom did, so I stepped out of the back door to check out what the Inner Harbor had to offer. I turned to the left, and saw the beautiful National Aquarium, so I took a picture.


When I turned to the right, there was the U.S.S. Constellation and the Constellation Museum. JF loves sailing ships, so I figured that I would take a picture of museum AND ship for him. I raise my camera to my eye, and I hear a strident voice say. "Ma'am? Ma'am! I need you to NOT do that!" I lower the camera, and realize that there's a security guard talking to me. I said back to him, in a very confused manner, "Um...I'm not taking a picture of YOU, I'm taking a picture of the *museum.*" He says, "I need you to not do that right now."




As I look around, Ol Eagle Eye me realizes that there are quite a few security guards about, and that though this is obviously a pedestrian area, no one's walking through. We're all milling about on the steps. At the end of the walkway, there are sawhorses, preventing the pedestrian traffic. (I'm a quick one!) In front of me, there's a small dock area where there are plenty of paddle boats available for rent. Only, strangely enough -- none are rented out. With this many people hanging around, you think they'd have some business. Hm. Odd.

After a minute, a man steps out of the dock house, and he's carrying a long hook on a pole. It looks like a fireplace poker with a really long handle. As we (the crowd and I) watch, the guy goes over to the corner of the harbor and begins poking around with the pole in the water. After a few minutes, he snags something, and begins laboriously tugging it over towards the dock.

Updated to add: Binsk approved my adding the picture of the two of us, so find it above!

Right about now is when I noticed the news helicopters hovering around. (Nothing gets past me, I tell ya!)

The hook man finally tugs his burden into somewhat of a viewable area. And.....that brings us to our last B: the body in the harbor. As fond as I am of police procedurals and forensic shows, all I had to see was a wet mop of hair to know that I was out of there. I bolted for the restaurant. Maybe my choice of pasta for dinner wasn't the best course of action, now that I think about it.

I called JF later that night to tell him about my first day. When I get to the part about the body, he had the same reaction that I did -- "Welcome to Baltimore!" Later in the trip, we encountered a homeless man in McDonald's who managed to talk the entire 20 or so minutes that we were there without seeming to take a breath. The day after the nonstop talker, we encountered a junkie in full-nod passout mode who was still managing to stand, by some miracle of gravity. She tottered in the doorway, and had occasional bouts of lucidity before she'd appear to pass out again. At one point, she pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between her lips before succumbing again. After a few minutes, she pulled out a lighter. I nudged my companion and told her that I'd pay her ten bucks if Junkie Lady lit her own hair on fire. Unfortunately, I have no idea if Junkie Lady survived unroasted because she left shortly afterward.

All in all, it was an eventful trip. The train ride was long and mostly uncomfortable, but it was an experience. I hope one day to return to Baltimore, despite all the colorful characters we encountered. Maybe the next time, I will have more time to explore.