3.1415 and Sabotage

I didn't blog last night because, seriously, my butt was in bed by 7PM.

Yeah.

BUT IT'S PI DAY!!!! AND YOU'RE COMING HOME!!!! And I'm on a total Beastie Boys kick. So, here's "Sabotage" for your watching pleasure. See you soon!!!!!

Slán, ya'll! 

I Did Not Approve This

Poor, sad, cut-down tree.

That? Right there? Was the view from my bedroom window this morning. I went upstairs to take a shower, and just as I was stripping down to my unmentionables, I heard it.

Chainsaws.

My first thought was, "Huh. Randall has finally gone off the deep end and has gone all Georgia Chainsaw Massacre on the neighborhood."

Then, my second thought was, "I'd like to see that."

So, I peeped ever-so-carefully out of my blinds.*

And what did I see? The death of your majestic, sod-killing tree. Now, all I want to know is... WHERE IS MY DAMNED HOA MODIFICATION REQUEST/NOTIFICATION THINGAMAJIG?!? I didn't sign off on bupkis and when you get home, Missy, there had better be one in my mailbox. Pronto. Or there's going to be Hell to pay.

Either that or you just get me drunk on Moscato, as usual, and we'll call it Even-Steven.

Later on, whilst enjoying a mug of coffee with Bailey's cherry cordial (the afternoon drink I've decided to call #winningatmotherhood) Jarrod asked me to help him organize his Pokémon cards. During the entire procedure, this was me:

I heard through the Rachel grapevine that you're coming home on Saturday. After this, there will be one, COUNT 'EM!, ONE more blog post. SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Slán, ya'll!

*Even though I only popped up one blind, at eye level, just enough to peek out of, I was paranoid that the entire neighborhood could see my secrets from Victoria.

All's Quiet On The Wellesley Front

Today? Peaceful. Quiet. Uneventful.

THANK GOODNESS!!!

I'm currently reading three books. The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, Countdown to Zero Day by Kim Zetter, and some hardcore smut by S.E. Smith. I'm reading the Japanese fiction in the morning with my coffee, the Stuxnet/computer hacking intrigue in the afternoon while the kids do homework, and the smut while I'm trying to fall asleep. I've decided that I've become this ADHD mess of attention span (LOOK! SHINY THINGS!!!!! OVER THERE!) and get bored with just one book. So, I'm going to try the three book thing until I finish them or my head explodes. I figure I'll keep with the good fiction/non-fiction/smut combo to satisfy all my reading needs.

Obviously, I need help.

In lieu of the boring state of affairs over here, I'm giving you a link to this web site here. This guy takes urban kids on hikes and writes down everything they say. I pretty much spewed milk on my monitor. You're welcome.

MR. CODY, THEM FREEZY POPS I SNUCK IN MY BACKPACK ARE UNFROZEN, BUT HIT ME UP IF YOU WANT SOMETHIN BLUE TO DRINK!

Slán, ya'll!

Imma Have To Eat Me Some Chocolate

Tonight was a first. I couldn't find Heath. I had dinner ready on the table at 5:45 and Jarrod was already at home. Heath had strolled in five minutes before and I sent him out to get Amelia because he knew where she was. Five minutes later, Amelia comes in.

No Heath.

I texted Kim and she told me that Paige and Bella weren't home today. Amelia told me that she was hiking around in the woods behind Kim's house when Heath hollered at her from the hill and told her to come home. I, then, proceeded to march up the street to go find his butt. He wasn't at Kim's, wasn't behind her house in the woods. Knocked on Chase's door. "Is Heath here?" Nuh-huh.

So then? I started to panic. I went back home, freaked out, and asked Amelia and Jarrod "ARE YOU SURE YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE HE IS?!? BECAUSE HE'S NOWHERE!!!!!"

I sent Kim a text telling her my predicament. She met me in front of her house and we proceeded to look at the woods from her deck. I went out her front door, up the hill toward the grey house at the entrance of Mercer Drive, where young 4-year-old Abby visits her grandmother on Mondays and Tuesdays. I KNOW he can't be there because I had a long discussion with them that included the words, "You don't go up to Abby's grandmother's house unless you tell me first because I can't see you up there and have no clue where you are." I mean, this is Heath. He wouldn't disobey me, right? But, the alternative was that he was kidnapped, injured, or dead. Because he can't be there. He's the good one who listens. Which means he's gone. Poof.

Kim was calling for him in her cul-de-sac and around the woods and I was chanting, "NotHeathNotHeathNotHeathNotHeath!" all the way up that hill. I rang DeDe's bell...

And there was Heath, bounding down the stairs.

So, yeah. He's grounded for a week. And I couldn't decide whether to kiss him or pound him.

Instead, I lectured him and went upstairs to my closet and cried while Tyler finished said lecture.

They're all safely in bed, lesson learned.

And I'm going to drown my motherhood sorrows in dark chocolate and peanut butter.

Or, I'll break into your house for some Moscato. Whatevs.

Slán, ya'll!

I Farted In Zumba This Morning

Sláinte bitches!

No lie. Twice. I think the second one may have been audible over the music to the woman behind me.

*Facepalm.*

Cherry seems to have recovered from her strained back from two weeks ago. Thank goodness because there is NO WAY I could deal with any more front row attempts.

That picture right there? That's the one I tried to send to you via text. I was drinking coffee out of the mug you gave me and had Heath take a picture. I think I'll hire him out for weddings.

I FINALLY sucked it up today and started organizing all my GAD stuff for next year. I just couldn't face it last week. I'm working on it for an hour a day and it will be done by Friday. Cary sent out an email for debrief reports. Didn't know if you saw that. My favorite part of the email?

Dr. Martisko had a wonderful experience talking with you guys, our coaches, and our decathletes.  He had nothing but glowing things to say about our program.

Yep. I like to think my drunken giggle-fest with said Dr. is what got that ball rolling.

Heath went back to school today (Thank, Cthulhu!) and homework was surprisingly light. I'm not sure what to make of that. Is a homework bomb going to go off next week? Should I be peeking around corners for homework fairies and their nefarious homework dust?

I sent Rachel a text today about babysitting and she was able to come over tonight and watch kids. Tyler and I just got back and, yet again, she did a great job. To commemorate the moment, I took a picture:

Pay no attention to that dork on the right.

You and Randy made a beautiful/kick-ass kid, you know that?

Well, I'm signing off. Rachel said you seemed to be less stressed this trip and that you're getting more sleep. Good. I didn't want to have to fuss at you once you got home.

Slán, ya'll!

The Hour I Lost Is NOT Under The Sofa

The worst thing about paranormal investigating, for me, is that I'm a zombie the next day from lack of sleep. Yesterday's investigation was worse than normal because I had to drive over two hours to Clayton, Georgia (which is up near Tallulah Falls), investigate for four hours, drive back two hours, and lose an hour due to the time change. So, the unfortunate effect of all of this is that I have literally lost a day because it went by too fast (lost an hour) and I was sleep-walking most of the time.

At any rate, I'll stop whining, because I know you've been working your tail off over in Ireland with nary a bit of decent sleep. Thanks again for getting me a real, honest-to-goodness, Irish sweater! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a good, freezing-cold Blackberry Winter sometime in the next two months so I can wear it. When I go to Hawai'i this summer, I'll get you whatever you want. Even a scantily-clad young Polynesian man who juggles fire.

Seriously. I'll bubble-wrap him and everything.

The cul-de-sac has been quiet this weekend, although I've barely been here. The only bit of news is that Dharmesh has pneumonia. Poor thing. Amelia lost another tooth ($2 bill from the tooth fairy - because we're cheap AND weird) and Heath officially had strep (the pediatrician called the next day and said the 24-hour culture tested positive) and is on the mend. Jarrod received a form stripe on his white belt (whatever that means) and I'll be jumping back on the exercise wagon this week which means I'll be whimpering by Tuesday.

I've been keeping on top of Systems Atlanta's Twitter account. What's funny is that I sent an email to all the business development people explaining, "It's a microblogging site. Everything is limited to 140 characters, blah, blah, blah." So, the Business Development Manager sent me a tweet today to push out for him... and it was 190 characters long. GAH!!!!!! I think I spent, no joke, 30 minutes trying to shrink the damned thing down but still make it understandable.

Me: I need to get paid for an hour of work on Sunday.
Tyler: Why?
Me: I was on "The Twitter" tweeting a tweet.
Tyler: Just one tweet?
Me: Just one.
Tyler: You're such a Twitter tweeting twat. Take your money and shut up.

Well, I'm off to bed so that I can NOT sleepwalk tomorrow. MISS YOUR CRAZY FACE!!!! And, of course, I mentioned "scantily-clad young Polynesian man who juggles fire" and I had to go Google that shit. You're welcome.

Slán, ya'll!

Too. Much. Stuff. To. Do.

ZOMG!

I HAD TO BUY BABY SHOWER GAME STUFF!

AND PICK UP FLOWER ARRANGEMENTS!

AND WRAP A WHOLE DANGED STROLLER AND CAR SEAT! AND PUT THE STROLLER TOGETHER!

AND THEN I HAD TO DRIVE MOM AND BETTY AND AMELIA TO VININGS FOR THE SHOWER! AND GET THE FLOWERS THERE WITHOUT DAMAGING THEM!

AND THEN I HAD TO HELP RUN THE BABY SHOWER! AND I WORE A SWEATER! AND HEELS! AND IT'S, LIKE, 60-DEGREES TODAY!

AND THEN COME HOME, CHANGE CLOTHES, AND GET BACK IN THE CAR!

AND GO TO CLINT'S HOUSE AND GET PGI EQUIPMENT!

AND THEN DRIVE ALL THE WAY TO DAMNED CLAYTON FOR AN INVESTIGATION!

AND THEN I'LL GET NO SLEEP BEFORE A LATE-NIGHT/EARLY-MORNING DRIVE HOME!

TOO MUCH STUFF!

So, here's a picture of me and my beautiful niece Stephanie, and Miss-Miss, and my great-niece Ginny (in the form of a bump).

SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!! I'M GONNA BE A GREAT-AUNT!!!!!!!!!

Slán, ya'll!

Of Twitter, Fevers, and Solitary Confinement

So, I lied. I did not watch the Frontline about vaccines. I instead watched the Frontline about solitary confinement use in America's prisons.

Um... wow. The old adage, "If you treat someone like an animal, they will become an animal" is really very true. And I don't see how those guards and nurses get through their days without nightmares and just horrible, awful stress.

Then, Heath woke up with a raging fever. No strep, no ear infections, just fever. He wasn't in school today (Thursday) and he likely won't be going in tomorrow. Poor baby. But, he's my low-maintenance sick kid. Amelia and Jarrod can be a bit dramatic.

Mom was over this evening and asked Tyler for money, to which he was like, "Ppppppffffffftttttthhhhhhzzzzzzz!" So, yeah. Awkward.

I just spent an hour going through the Systems Atlanta twitter account, weeding out those reps and senators we followed because they were on aviation subcommittees, but now aren't, and adding on the newbies. I was REALLY hoping Ted Cruz had moved to a different committee. Alas. I did, at least, mute his ridiculousness. *Shiver*

And, that's about it. Here's a link to a video I found immensely funny. I have no idea why. I just find that random people doing stupid, random stuff in public enormously funny.

And here's a picture of Andy napping. Jus'cuz.

Dude. I Get It. I Didn't Post Yesterday.

It's probably a good thing I didn't post yesterday. I was rocketing down a spiral of cold, UTI, and finding out that some random Canadian TV producer thought I didn't have a personality. I did a bunch of crying, a whole lot of nose-blowing, and mucho freebasing of Cipro. I think the third grade teachers knew I was unhappy/not feeling well because when I went to help Mrs. Videkovich, practically everyone asked, "How are you?" Dude. Usually, no one talks to me when I'm there. I probably looked awful.

So, after a highly-emotional blog post at my other blog, a long text message exchange with Clint (who was chosen for a face-to-face interview with the Canadians) during which he got where I was coming from, and a long Facetime phone call with cousin Jennifer (during which we bashed all TV producers and all boyfriends), I felt somewhat better. Then, I decided to inhale some Advil PM and face the day with a full night's sleep, which I haven't had in over a week.

I feel MUCH better. That Canadian TV producer can go you-know-what herself.

Anyway, Mom has a new car. She went to the Honda dealership to see if she could extend the lease on her other Civic and they gave her a new one instead. And now she wants to ask Tyler for a loan. I may spend the evening with Randall because THAT'S going to go over like a lead balloon.

Speaking of lead, I was at the Bascomb book fair today (where NO ONE asked me how I was feeling, so I must look less heinous) and picked up the above book for the kids. Oh, who am I kidding? I got it for myself, too. Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll let you slobber all over it when you get home. It's pretty kickin'!

I saw Randall outside today as we were getting our mail. Sadly, he wasn't wearing a lampshade over his head, or dragging a case of beer behind him, or being followed by a passel of strippers. I informed him, in a voice dripping with disgust, that he's doing this whole "wife is out-of-town" thing wrong. Sad, really.

Did you know that you can watch PBS Frontline episodes on YouTube? HOLYCRAPIT'STHEBESTTHINGEVER! I will be eating chocolate in front of my computer tonight as I watch "The Vaccine War." *Facepalm* I am such a dork.

So, there you have it. All the goings-on (or lack thereof) in the Wellesley Crest cul-de-sac. Talk to you tomorrow!

Slán, ya'll!

Cipro and Cranberry Juice

I finally gave in and went to the doctor today. The title says it all.

Plus? I witnessed Amelia hitting Heath this afternoon. So, that pretty much set me off. Long, hard discussions about why we don't hit people, what she should have done instead, he's her only twin, why that's special, blah, blah, yadda, yadda. Being an adult stinks.

THEN?!? We heard from the Canadian production company. They didn't like me. They liked the other five. There were three of us girls who gave it a go. They said, "Christina and Nancy have great personalities." So.... yeah. I was tired that day, didn't feel good, and my roots were showing. So, they saw a 43-year-old tired mother with no personality. It's hard. They get a five-minute snippet and make a judgement and logically, I understand. But emotionally? Well, let's just say I'm going to go upstairs and hug my pillow and have a "I'm 13 years past my prime and some random TV producer in Canada who doesn't even know me says I have no personality and I'm going to let that affect me because I'm sick and had a bad day" pity party.

On a side note, Heath's room mom from first grade STILL has me on her email list. The Universe hates me.

Hope Ireland is swimmingly better than the shit storm over here. This will be me tomorrow:

Slán, ya'll!

Post-GAD, Post-You're In Ireland, Blues

I swear to Cthulhu we hadn't been drinking when we took this.

And, yet again, I am home from GAD and feeling completely and utterly wrecked.

It's official, I'm sick. Scratchy throat, coughing, who-knows-what all up in my sinuses. Thankfully, it didn't hit full force until this morning (Sunday). The alcohol last night probably didn't help. But, yes, I ended up in the bar at the Sonesta with those three yahoos in the picture and the USAD CEO. Turns out he's from West Virginia, too, and between the two of us, there was enough alcohol involved to induce giggling. Plus? I may have volunteered myself to help jumpstart USAD back in W(bG)V*.

I hope he remembers nothing because I'm not ready to help start up WVAD, much less a GAD team at Etowah. LAWD HEP!!!

At any rate can I just state that the hand-grading of over 1,000 Scantrons sucked? Lots? That scoring room was packed, PACKED I TELL YOU, with student volunteers. If it weren't for Maureen and those kids, we would have been sunk. Then, poor Annette had to hand-enter the scores. It's awful when your primary and backup Scantron machines fail simultaneously. John V has promised new electronic toys for next year. Until then, 2015 will go down in the annals of GAD history as the year we all quietly panicked and then pulled it off by the skin of our teeth. By the way? The coaches have NO clue. This is a secret we all take to our graves. Sign your name in blood at the bottom and we'll see you March 20th.

Marc was sick, as well, and Saturday morning he sounded like Barry White. Those soft, low, dulcet tones sounded so out of place coming out of his mouth and I had to snicker every time he asked Cary or Michelle a question. And Jeff said to tell you hello! He was so sad you had to leave early and he showed up at the bar ready to talk NASCAR with you! Poor thing. :(

OK. I've got to unpack, finish my thank you notes (STUPID SCANTRONS!) and get busy. Either that or I'm taking a nap. I hope all is well in Ireland!

Slán, ya'll!

*West (by God) Virginia!