Electric Word: "Life".

weird dreams.. again

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 20:44:00 +0000

Mallory was in the back of a truck, backing down the street in my mom's neighborhood.. and then she suddenly jumped out, and I took off, running like hell for the neighbor's house. I get there, pound on the door, no answer - so I open the door and let myself in, and it's this little old lady's house. She has no idea I'm in there. I go to close the door, Mal's already there, so I run through the house trying to evade her (or catch her, at some points). I finally trick her into running outside, close and lock the door. Then I haul ass to the old lady's phone and ask her if I can use it. She says of course. I pick it up, dial 911, and the recorded operator says "Sorry, this number is not in service."

I stare at the phone and then look outside and Mallory's circling the house with a swiss army knife trying to pry window screens off to climb into the house. I'm bluffing, telling her to give up because the cops are coming, she's ignoring me. She finally pries a window open, gets inside, and makes a swipe at me with the knife - only to slice open the old lady.

Then I woke up.

Pit of Despair, or Indigestion?

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 20:27:00 +0000

Well, we got the Pay thing figured out and handled. They didn't handle it until the 1st, so our mortgage and three other bills were late - but paid in full. Apparently when Bill got to his current command (SLC), they never actually updated his Pg2 to say he was assigned to a command. So when we added Evelyn, they 'corrected' that mistake, and in the process, deleted our home zip code so that our BAH went bye-bye. Pissed me off, for damn sure.

We still don't have orders. I woke up this morning with this intense, deep seated feeling of unrest.. like something heavy was in the pit of my stomach and refusing to move an inch. Sure, we had a rough night, with Evie running a fever (shots yesterday); but I'm normally 'ok' in the mornings. I did not want to get up. I didn't want to move out of bed, I was just.. worried.

It's 100* here and about 35% humidity. This crap sucks. I live in Cali for a reason - I don't like humidity with my heat. Ew.

I had nightmares last night, same as I do every night, and again it featured my mom and I fighting. Mom and I never fight, so wtf? It's like my subconscious is dredging up insecurities.. it must be. Finding the thing I fear most. It's either that or my children/husband dying. Ugh.

Never Again Volunteer Yourself - NAVY.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 17:45:00 +0000

I hate the Navy right now, really and truly. See, we're still waiting for orders. He was supposed to have them in May. Then his detailer was unable to get in to see what was available until June, so hey, June, okay. June came and went, still no orders. July, he got back to us and said Hey, either he picks orders in Guam, Hawaii or Washington OR... we can wait a month and see if anything opens up in San Diego. Bill said okay, let's wait.

So we're waiting. Still.

The Jeff City is trying to pull strings but so far we've heard nothing back. The Topeka is rumored to be pulling some strings also, but again, we've heard nothing back. Right now it's a hope and pray situation. I'm gearing for worst case scenario, which sucks. Washington for 4 years. We can't move with Bill because we'd lose our BAH for San Diego.. right now we're getting $2,200 for housing and our mortgage is $1,700. In WA, the BAH is $1,300. So in order to keep it, he'd go geo-bach and the girls & I would stay here. We'd visit every few months for a week (maybe two) but it's going to be expensive to shuttle back and forth. I plan on treating it like a really long deployment and just throwing myself into work and the kids.

Mom's told me she'd come stay with me part of time he's gone and help me out -- mostly emotionally. Physically I got the house covered but mentally I don't know. I may fall apart. I'm dreading it, so much. I have a stiff jaw from gritting my teeth and trying not to cry. I wake up each morning lately with this dull ache in my shoulders from hunching up. I don't have any desire to do anything but mope, but I know I have to. Going to work helps. I'm better when I force myself to get out o the house while Bill's at work. But it's hard. Knowing these may be the last months we have together before the longest 4 years of my life.. very hard.

Abigail starts Kindergarten at 5 - I'm still grappling with the decision to put her in Preschool or not. I haven't decided. I know she'll do well but so far the state funded programs I've looked into haven't blown my skirt up and we can't afford one that isn't state funded. I'm already looking at grade schools and I think I may want to send her to Bay Park - that's only two blocks up from the salon so it'd be close and fairly convenient. I was considering a few satellite programs, but I haven't found one I like and honestly Abigail really would LOVE school. I hope she does better than I did. I hated school. I hated the other students. They were cruel.

I'm a mess right now. And I really want to watch Fiddler on the Roof now.

Tevye: A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask 'Why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' Well, we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: tradition!

that spark is back;

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 04:30:00 +0000

The artistic part of me has reared it's head again. I think it started when I started singing lullabies again - although my lullabies aren't really nursery quality, with Abigail, her song of choice (the one that soothed her best) was Fireflies by Owl City.. With Evie, it's Cost of Living by Ronnie Dunn.
At any given hour, Bill can wake up and catch me dancing around the room with a fussing, fidgety Evelyn while I sing. Ah, parenthood.

But anyhow; I'm going to start short stories again. I'll be posting them here.

$3 and change at the pump...

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 05:56:00 +0000

the cost of livings high.. and going up.

Funny. My whole drive home - actually all day - I think of topics I can blog about and make a mental note to remember them. Do I? Hell no. I'm a mom. In the short 8 hours between thinking of a topic and having two minutes to breathe to blog, I do a hundred million things and totally space and forget them.

I've taught Lily, my Queensland Heeler, to help me with the laundry. Since I've been cloth diapering, we don't use fabric softeners.... you simply can't with cloth, it causes the fabric to repel. So; I made and implemented dryer balls. Routinely, I'm shaking laundry out of the basket and a dryer ball that snuck in when I wasn't paying attention hits the floor and bounces.

She sits at attention at my feet, her head on her feet. Intent. Ears up. She doesn't move until I tell her to.. she knows they're not toys.
"Pick it up." I say. She DIVES for the ball, smacks it twice with her feet as if she's knocking it unconscious, and then picks it up and delicately brings it back to me, dropping it in the palm of my hand. I praise her (quietly, as she gets exuberant at the drop of a hat) and she returns to her watchful position at my feet. I think I'm going to start working with hand towels and kid's toys next, teach her to pick things up when I drop them. She is a very, very high-drive dog; she has an incredible work ethic that I've never utilized. Other than, I taught her to chase my cats. True story.
What? They scratch on my sofa. She chases them when they do so. It's a beautiful thing.

New this week; Evelyn's learned to smile. Oh, and we still don't have orders. Glorious.

Oh, the things we do -- or don't.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 00:29:00 +0000

This post should probably be titled; "things that piss me off". Because it's not just about this particular rant, really - it's about the basic human right to be pissed off about things, and I have many of those things.

This stems from an argument hashed out awhile ago, Navy Wife vs. Lack of Pay (the threat of the debt ceiling & prior to that, the threat of the budget agreement missing the deadline). As a military family - and as MILLIONS of Americans do, military or otherwise - we live pretty much paycheck to paycheck. Sure we have, eh, maybe $100 or $200 by the end of the month, we roll that into savings; but on some months (i.e; the months we get our water bill in), if something big comes up, we're totally scraping empty by the time we have our pay deposited. So to not get paid, for any reason, is flat unacceptable. When we do get paid and nothing catastrophic happens, we live comfortably. We're not rich by any means and likely never will be, but we're not just constantly broke, nor are we mooching off the family dime(s). A friend told me that if it worries me that much that we may lose a paycheck, perhaps I should get a job and we should stop living outside our means.

Okay, wait, let me summarize what this person just slapped down on the table.
Any individual who lives comfortably, then spontaneously loses pay (let's say, injury or lay offs) and finds themselves in a pickle is living outside their means. What? Are you nuts? All of us would mourn the loss of a paycheck. That is not a living outside our means situation, that's a "not receiving the pay we're working for" situation. Furthermore, I AM working. I work full time at the salon, and while perhaps some of you don't feel it's a job because I set my own hours and I bring my children to work with me, I'm working and I make a decent amount of pay. However to go work for anyone else, I'd not be able to take my children to work with me; which means two things.
1) I'd miss the wonderful bonding time with my kids when they're little.
2) I'd be working for someone else to make exactly what I'm making now, only I'd have to hand that paycheck over to someone else at the end of each week to pay for my daycare fees.

Hmm let me think.

NO.

What's new, pussycat?

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 03:26:00 +0000

Oh, my my. It's been awhile.

Okay, so; June 22nd I had my (second) daughter, Evelyn Grey. She came into this world screaming and beautiful, weighing 7lbs, 8oz - exactly the same as her older sister's birth weight. I was released after 3 days and sent home. Six days post op, my incision split open. I called triage and they told me to 'stick a band-aid over it'. Uh? So I used some of the only band-aids we had in the house - Spongebob - to close the open and bleeding portion of the incision. I kept adding band-aids for every new spot that opened, and had to sleep with a sanitary napkin taped across the front of my underwear to absorb the blood leaking around them. By the time I decided that wasn't going to work (two days later), I had the entire cast of Spongebob lined up across the front of my pubic mound, soggy with blood, as if some homicidal child had tried to play doctor on me. So, we went down to the local Rite-Aid, bought some Krazy Glue, butterfly bandages and latex wound covers, and I glued the fucking thing shut.

Nope, totally not kidding. I really did. Worked magnificently, haven't had a problem since.

Evelyn is the best baby. She's very easy to subdue, easily soothed and self-soothes. She's 6 weeks old now and exclusively breastfed (go me!). We're cloth diapering as well. It's all going fantastic, I'm exceptionally proud of myself for owning up to my commitment to be 'better' for myself and the family. I was back to work full time when she was 3 weeks old; resuming all of my usual activities.. it's been fun, really. It's amusing to see people's reactions when they walk in and I have an infant sleeping on the front of me while I file paperwork. I had the best compliment from a man the other day, though it may have led to his death and/or dismemberment later.
"WOW! That's a new baby!"
I said yes, she is - just 5 weeks.
"Babies are such fun! My wife is talking about having another one now that she's finally lost all the baby weight.. oh, uh, is she yours?"
Yes, yes sir she is.
"You look GREAT."
Oh, how old is your baby?
"Oh.. he's two years."
Oh, that's a fun age. That's my 3 year old out there in the lobby.
"Oh my god.. you have TWO kids? You're so thin!"
I just smiled and thanked him, but I was really thinking; Buddy, don't share this conversation with your wife. She will murder you in your sleep. Instead, tell her how she's an awesome mom and leave it at that.

My anniversary was on July 30th. Six years married, imagine that. How is it that I'm 25 and I still feel 18? I can't believe Abigail is 3.. and Evelyn is growing too quickly. She's already smiling. I love the milestones, but I wish at moments I could freeze time and enjoy the girls the way they are. Next thing you know, Abby will be graduating high school and getting married.. yikes.

Alas; life as we know it marches on. I'm tired, overworked, unappreciated; I have two beautiful girls, a wonderful husband, and a great job. Love it.

Life, Death, Rebirth.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Tue, 10 May 2011 00:02:00 +0000

"Mortality has a way of reaching up and slapping you in the face when you feel like you're invincible.. it's a reminder that nobody lives forever and sometimes horrible shit happens to really good people - people who don't deserve it and never will. My heart breaks for those who leave us, but it aches even more for those left behind, and the loved ones of those stolen too soon are never far from my thoughts. Every life lost is another star in the heavens; so when you look up at the sky, remember that your beloveds are there - with you - forever, for always. Be blessed, my friends. And count those blessings every chance you get."

I've been slacking on posting anything new for awhile; I just haven't had adequate inspiration or the gumption to actually do so.. it's effort, and lately I lack on effort. Unfortunately, we had some rather tremendous, life-changing things happen in the last week, and I feel like not addressing them is as bad as denying them, and I don't like to deny reality. Since I'm laid up in bed with the sore throat from hell, I may as well get everything out.

Cinco de Mayo: May 5th. A friend of mine and fellow military wife; the wife of a good friend of my husband's, Heidi Durfey, was involved in an accident. At the moment, the details are still kinda fuzzy... or maybe not so much fuzzy as one of those denial-based, it could never happen to someone you know situations. Basically, what we all think happened was that she was on her way to the park (to meet another friend of ours) and had her children strapped in. She stepped out of the vehicle, at which point the SUV began rolling, and she tried to jump back in: any mother's knee-jerk, gut reaction to her children being in danger. Unfortunately she didn't make it back inside the vehicle, and instead was dragged beneath it. She was dragged over 60 feet, the SUV coming off the edge of a 3ft embankment, and the upper half of her body (head & chest) was trapped beneath the tires. Her 4 year old climbed out of the window to seek help from a neighbor. The children (ages 4, 2 and 5 months) are just fine, but obviously shaken, since Mommy hasn't come home. Heidi was pronounced after arriving at the hospital. They held a celebration of life/memorial for her on Sunday (Mother's Day). Like an asshole, I didn't go. I justified it to myself by saying I didn't feel good, and honestly, I didn't - I'm incubating some sort of cold.

Mortality likes to kick you in the teeth, doesn't it?

I view death differently than a lot of people and I know that for some, it rubs them the wrong way - others see the rationality behind it and take comfort in my words. Words are all I have anymore, after so many years of trying to find my way to cope with tragedy. And this is tragedy. Insanely unfair, and absolutely heartbreaking. I think to myself; good lord: it could've been anybody.. don't we all do that? We compare ourselves, our situation at least, to every terrible situation we run across (whether reading the newspaper or watching the news) and think how would we handle it, what would we feel in the fray of it all? I think that's a pretty human response.
Through it all, I'm not sad for Heidi. I'm sad she's gone, because the world is a duller place now. Heidi was one of those people that you couldn't help but love. She would bend over backwards to help someone she perceived as good people and honestly I think it was hard to convince her someone wasn't good people. She was a fantastic woman. A fantastic mother. A fantastic wife.

Instead of being sad for her, I'm sad for her loved ones. For her friends and her family. I'm sad that so many people have had their lives torn asunder and held upside down. Death is the schoolyard bully, hanging prey by their sneakers to shake the change from their pockets. We're helpless to stop it. Begging and pleading, denial and hatred don't work on Death, because Death doesn't care.. Inevitably, we all die, and we have to respect that. Death itself is an adventure - not an end, but a beginning. Heidi is in a better place now, and she's not missing a thing - she sees it all, even now. It's those she left behind, all too soon and so suddenly, that are hurt and missing her. It's her children and her husband that my heart breaks for. For them, I wish I were a God. I wish I could roll back time and fix it all, because I hate to see good people hurt. I wish I could have it end up differently, because nobody deserves that pain.

I love my friends like they're family; and I will always count the Durfeys as friends, and thereby loved. They need all the love they can get, too. So, for them; my heart swells to include, and my husband and I have already said (countless times before and countless times to come) that if they should ever need anything, we'll be there. That's what friends do; they're there for each other. Those who leave us are gone, but never forgotten; and those who are not forgotten are never truly dead.

Love each other and be well, friends.

30DoM: Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 05:39:00 +0000

a habit that you wish you didn’t have

Oh, geez. This is a tough one. Because.. if I don't like a habit I try to quit it as much as possible, and if I "keep" a habit, it's because I love it on some level. So, I guess it would have to be twisting my hair. I will twist a big chunk entirely, to the point where it's knotted around my finger, and then slowly pick it all out. I can't usually get it all off or unknotted, and end up tearing my hair out. I have a little bald spot on the left side of my head.

So, why do I do this? Cos it feels great. It's so comforting.

30DoM: Day 3

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 18:44:00 +0000

a picture of you and your friends

Dan, Laura & myself

Sean, Laura, Whitney, myself & Nicole

myself & Jenn

myself & Rachael! =)

30DoM: Day 2

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 07:13:00 +0000

the meaning behind your blog name

It has no meaning.

I know, miraculous, right? But it really doesn't. Ever heard that Prince song, "Let's Go Crazy"? It's a line from that. He says, as part of an opening "sermon" during the song,

"Dearly beloved!

We are gathered here today, to get through this thing called .... Life.

Electric word; Life. It means forever and that's a mighty long time.. but I'm here to tell ya there's somethin' else.

The Afterworld.

A world of never-ending happiness; you can always see the sun: day or night. So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills, you know the one, Dr. Everything'll-Be-Alright; instead of asking him how much of your time is left, ask him how much of your mind, baby. 'Cause in this life, things are much harder than the afterworld. In this life...

You're on your own."

And I agree with him entirely. Those are all sentiments I just.. see eye to eye with. So, this is my Life, and Life is such an electric word, isn't it?

Dear Life, quit sucking. (30DoM: Day 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 05:33:00 +0000

Day One: recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself.

I'm apparently allergic to Vicks VapoRub. Yeah, how's that for random?
I like shrimp, but I can't eat it due to the texture on my teeth.
I won't eat popcorn or caramel. Gets stuck in my teeth. I hate it.
I use a fork & knife to eat fruit.
Someday, I want to own a gaited mule. Ohhhh, someday!
I had WLS at 16.
I'm lactose intolerant and still 'do' dairy. Suicidal much? Yeah.
I talk MAD crap while I'm driving.
When I start to fall asleep, I rub my toes against the sheets. If I have socks on, I have to take them off to rub.
I have a specialty certificate from the Pet Industry Joint Advisory Council for hand-raising hookbills.
I randomly break into song.
I'm not looking forward to ever moving away from my Mom. I'm such a mama's girl.
My dad is gay. Like, literally homosexual.
My husband has been guilted into keeping my ashes when I croak. He thinks it's gross and wants to give me to one of the kids.
And last.. the only bug that truly gives me the absolute willies is the Earwig.

And the suckage...

The only orders we're looking at for Bill's next sea duty suck. Not that any orders are overly roses, I know. But, it looks like it's the Topeka again, and that they'd be going to ME for dry-dock. Which, I wouldn't even blink at since dry dock is usually only 3 to 6 months out here in San Diego.. no.. theirs would be for a year to 16 months. WTF? So likely, he's going geo-bach, and me & the girls will be going out to see him as often as possible.

Shit help me with 2 kids in an airplane.. and we all know how well I fly. Bleh.

Zucchini Bread - oh, and 30DoM!

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 20:08:00 +0000

I decided today (ish... its been a work in progress) that I was going to start my 30 Days of Me. It's an easy blog challenge, those who don't know, to perform 30 tasks, one each day, for 30 days. Since I really don't blog nearly enough and most of it is ranting, I thought this would be good for me.

First, however...

Zucchini Bread!

You will need:

3 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
3 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3 eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
2 1/4 cups white sugar
2 cups grated zucchini (approx. one LARGE zucchini or 2 medium)
1 cup chopped walnuts (or other nut of choice, I used almonds & walnuts)

Sift together flour, salt, cinnamon, baking soda & powder in a medium sized bowl.

In another large bowl, mix together eggs, oil, white sugar and grated zucchini. No need to peel your zucchini, by the way. DO NOT drain your zucchini; it sucks the moisture out of the bread. Stir in the flour mixture, and once well mixed, add nuts.

Pour into two 8x4 greased pans.

Bake at 325* for 40 to 60 minutes, or until tester comes out clean.

Allow to cool for 20 minutes in the pan before turning out onto a wire rack to continue cooling. :) Enjoy.

Now onto the other portion of the post.. the guidelines of 30DoM!

recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself
the meaning behind your blog name
a picture of you and your friends
a habit that you wish you didn’t have
a picture of somewhere you've been to
favorite super hero and why
a picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you
short term goals for this month and why
something you're proud of in the past few days
songs you listen to when you are happy, sad, bored, hyped, mad
another picture of you and your friends
how you found out about blogger and why you have one
a letter to someone who has hurt you recently
a picture of you and your family
put your ipod on shuffle: first 10 songs that play
another picture of yourself
someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why
plans/dreams/goals you have
nicknames you have and why you have them
someone you see yourself marrying or being with in the future
a picture of something that makes you happy
what makes you different from everyone else
something you crave for a lot
a letter to your parents
what I would find in your bag
what do you think about your friends
why are you doing this 30 day challenge
a picture of you from last year and now, how have you changed since then?
in this past month, what have you learned
your favorite song

Deliciousness of the Vegetarian Variety!

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 05:33:00 +0000

Husband has decided he's going to go Veggie for a week to see how he handles it, how he feels, etc. - if this goes well, I think we I may implement a revolving menu, one week of meat dishes, one week of vegetarian dishes. Obviously when we I cook with meat, we have side dishes (mashed potatoes, veggies, etc.).. but it's kinda nice to have a challenge and not fall back on turkey or chicken. I rarely cook with beef or pork. I just don't care for the flavor of beef and the only pork my husband really goes out of his way to enjoy is bacon.. and we, as a family collective, don't really do seafood. I do tuna and salmon, and the occasional breaded fish fillet (or fish sticks) of cod or pollack, but I can't eat shrimp, crab, lobster or crayfish anymore. The texture makes me gag despite that I LOVE the flavor.

Anyway, since these are all new recipes to us, I'll post them here so you can follow our journey.

Tonight's dinner,

Baked 3-Cheese Veggie Mac

featuring chopped sweet onion, shredded carrot, thinly diced zucchini & tomato

This is a recipe of my own invention, and as a result, I don't measure anything. So, rough estimates are your friend here. I found that when I follow a recipe, I feel too restrained. Instead, I add, subtract, multiple and occasionally totally change ingredients on the fly.

You will need:

Oven set to 375 degrees
1/2 to 3/4 cup chopped/diced sweet onion
1/2 to 3/4 cup shredded carrot
3/4 cup chopped/diced zucchini
3/4 to 1 cup chopped/diced tomato
3/4 cup Parmesan cheese, divided into 1/4 and 1/2 cup
3oz blue cheese, stronger the better!
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese (more if you like REALLY cheesy)
3 cups cooked macaroni noodles
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup milk
salt & pepper to taste

In a colander, combine onion, carrot, zucchini, tomato and salt liberally. Let sit in the sink to drain excess moisture. Meanwhile, cook yo' macaroni.

When macaroni is finished, toss it in the colander with the veggies, stir them well, then rinse everything. Let sit in the sink again. Back in the pot you used for the mac (which should now be empty, if you're with me still), combine butter, milk, 2oz blue cheese, 1/2 cup parmesan and the cheddar cheese. Stir over low/medium heat until well melted/combined. To this (in the pot), add your veggie/mac mix, and stir until entirely coated. Add any salt/pepper you may want/need now.

Toss this mixture in a baking dish (I used a square cake pan that looks to be 8x8, but, ya know.. whatever..) and top with remaining parmesan and blue cheese.

Place in oven and bake until hot, bubbly, and slightly browned - about 25/35 minutes.

Enjoy!

Later this week, check in for

mashed cauliflower,

baked sweet potatoes,

zucchini bread,

and possibly even zucchini corn fritters...

I'm being pregnant; don't mind me.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 06:00:00 +0000

I hate it when people who have never obtained a medical degree try to tell me what I should/should not be doing during my pregnancy. Even more so, I hate people who feel it's their duty nigh on their right to tell me what I should/should not be doing during my pregnancy when they haven't even fucking been pregnant. Men, take note. This is directed partially at you. Women with no children, you're secondarily on this list but still on the list, and you should listen up also.

Let's address the most common ones:

- Caffeine. My one to two cup a day habit is not going to kill my fucking kid, ok? Yes, it crosses the placenta, which means it's increasing their heartbeat and blood pressure as well as mine. Yes, it's a diuretic and yes it can cause dehydration. But I'm not drinking raw caffeine. There has been no conclusive study proving that caffeine causes birth defects or preterm labor (or anything else) in humans, because there have been no conclusive studies done. Most doctors even OK a moderate amount of caffeine, moderate varying between 150mg to 300mg. A 7-11 Big Gulp of Diet Coke has about 125mg of caffeine, and to get to 300mg you'd have to drink 3 cups of coffee -- so seriously, lay the fuck off me.

- Dying hair. The Organization of Teratology Information Services (OTIS), which provides information on potential reproductive risks, says that animal studies are reassuring and that there are no reports of hair dye causing changes in human pregnancies, despite the fact that many women have colored their hair during pregnancy. Very few of the chemicals actually even absorb into our systems, which means the likelihood of them reaching baby are slim to none. They recommend dying your hair in a well-ventilated area; but that's true for everyone at any time period! It's not good to be breathing in crap, so ventilate no matter what stage of life you're in. So in short, if I say I'm dying my hair bright fucking pink, shut your mouth about me being pregnant.

- Emotional decisions while pregnant are a bad idea // women make poor choices while pregnant.
Exsqueeze me? You don't know me. You don't know my emotional state or my current hormone flux or my lifestyle or my life in general. I could make shitty decisions every day of my damn life. Or I could be a flipping genius despite being 800 years pregnant. So seriously, what a ridiculous, offensive statement to make. Bite me, really.

And some of you fellow pregnant bitches are WAY too hormonally imbalanced for your own good. Like complaining because you want to be a selfish ho (waa, I asked someone to get me twinkies and then they ate like half the box..) and your loved ones have a problem with it. SERIOUSLY? Life does not stop for anyone just because we're knocked up, so grow the hell up and DEAL WITH LIFE. Thank you.

I break hiatus for a rant.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 02:12:00 +0000

A brief one. A little one. A tiny rant, if you may.

Word usage.

Okay; if you're going to write something in 30 foot letters on a billboard, spell shit right and use proper grammar, please. Thank you, Barona, for telling us that you're "HOME OF FREE ATM'S."

Home of free ATM's what? Because that apostrophe S means that the ATM is possessing something, not pluralizing the word ATM. Because technically the word ATM can't be pluralized. It's an acronym for AUTOMATIC TELLER MACHINE. So you can say you're 'HOME OF THE FREE ATM' or 'HOME OF FREE ATMS' but not 'ATM'S' because that doesn't make any sense whatsoever. None.

Speaking of other things, the word is "flip" not "flick" - you do not "flick" someone off, you "flip" them off. You 'flick' something away. You "flip" someone the bird.

It's WASH. W-A-S-H, WASH. Not warsh. There is no R in that fracking word.

Shih Tzu is in fact pronounced Shee-T'zoo (and you can say it "Tzoo" or "tuh-zoo", I don't mind) but not Shit Zoo. It's not a Shit Zoo. Well, maybe it is, but the breed is Shih Tzu.

Ambulance has a U in the middle of the word. It's not "amb-lance". It's amBUlance.

Nuclear is not nucular. Nucular relates instead to nucule, and is a botanist term referring to a section of hard fruit.

You slept, not sleeped.
You fell, not falled.

The dog breed, Pekingese, is PEAK-an-ease .. not Pick-a-ninny.
Papillion is "pappy-on" not "pappel-on" or "pap-ill-yun". It's French. It means Butterfly.
It's pronounced "chi-wa-wa" but is in fact spelled "chihuahua" and you should know this if you plan to own one. I'm not asking you to spell Xoloitzcuintli or pick a Leonberger out of a line-up. Just chihuahua. And Shih Tzu. And Pekingese. In fact, no, you can even spell Pekingese wrong. Just SAY it right.

If you say Hella, I should rip your fingers off. I hate the word myself, I have caught myself saying in on rare occasion and slapped myself stupid for it. Learn from me, slap yourself a few times - especially if you're one of those nor-cal idiots who feels the need to say it as often as you use the words "I", "And", "the", "was", etc. -- because then you just sound ridiculously stupid, not simply stupid.

Then again, I really can't talk; I use "itch" to refer to both things that itch (i.e; "I have an itch.") and when I'd like something scratched ("Can you itch my back?" vs. "Can you scratch my back?"). I do however use "scratch" when the cats get me or any other time. Yeah, I know. I'm odd.

More annoying usages coming soon, I'm sure.

Playing TAG with Sean Connery

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 03:36:00 +0000

I was playing TAG, The Assassination Game with Sean Connery and Kelly Monfort. I tagged her out pretty quickly but was having to hunt for Sean Connery, he was a slippery sucker. He nearly caught me hunting for him, so I dove inside this executive bathroom where my daughter was bathing.. only half the wall was solid, the rest was glass; so I dragged the curtain across and spied on him as he wandered around outside the bathroom. My mom came in to watch Abby, and I slipped out to stalk him, only now the building we had been in was a grocery store and I was wandering through aisles.

I sat down at a coffee bar and was talking to my mom (who was suddenly there) about the game, only to hear Sean Connery behind me, berating Kelly for being caught so soon. So I whipped around and threw a bonbon (yes, the chocolates) at him, beaning him with one and telling him he was tagged and out of the game.

Pissed, he morphed into this giant great horned owl and flew at me, dive bombing me. So I punched him in the face. Broke his beak! Startled, he stopped, and said (while still an owl) "Fine. Merry Christmas, but I will never wish you a good day." and flew off.

The very next thing I know, someone is at my mom's house, asking her to babysit her male rat because she (the owner) has been sick and doesn't want him to be without human interaction for awhile. So, Mom agrees to babysit this rat, and says she's going to put him in with her newest litter of babies... while we're pulling this large male rat out, it ends up being a large male hamster, as well as an identical female hamster, and underneath them is half of a baby dwarf hamster --- literally, half, as in, he just didn't form anything below the front legs. But he was alive. And black, despite that both parents were white.

And then I woke up.

Paganism vs. Witnesses, Round One.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 20:15:00 +0000

Um. Wow.
I just had two Jehovah's Witnesses knock on my door who were about 70. I don't like to be rude to any religious types; normally I get the Mormons, this is my first experience with Witnesses at my home, generally I see them in public and they make a scene and I move on - that's that.

These were little old ladies, so I sorta felt the need to talk to them. I mean, surely, two little old women can't piss me off too bad, right? There was only one who did the talking, anyway.

They read to me from the New Testament; Psalms 103, "he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities." Main Talky Broad (she later introduced herself as Camille) then proceeded to explain to me that this means that because of the actions of Adam & Eve, all of mankind's DNA has been flawed, and now we're all born with sin. I stopped her. "Well, I'll be honest, I'm not Christian."
"OH!" She exclaimed. "Don't tell me you're an Atheist!" I started chuckling and said, "No, I'm a bloodlined Pagan. My family is from Ireland, we descended from Druids, we've been Pagan for centuries."
Generally when I say that to someone, they give up right there. There's no sense arguing with bloodlined anything. Just as you were raised with your religion, I was raised with mine; you will not change my mind any more than I'll change yours. Converts are rare unless the person you're working on has been blind to any sort of organized religion their entire life.
"Oh. I've never met one of you before." (Well, likely you have ma'am, but we don't admit it. Me, though, I don't care. You're like 70. You can't hurt me.)
So she proceeds to re-iterate this line about God spoiling the DNA of all of mankind and that every child is born with sin. We're all sinners. Yup! We're all going to hell unless we convert to the teachings of Jehovah and repent. She asked me what I thought of that.
"Well, I don't agree at all. I don't believe two people can ruin an entire world for everyone, I don't believe we can be responsible for two people's actions at the dawn of time. I don't believe that my two year old daughter was born a sinner. I don't believe my daughter-to-be (said while rubbing my stomach) is going to be born a sinner. My children are innocents. They have done nothing wrong. We make our own path in life, we are not predestined to Heaven or Hell."

She stopped and stared at me, eyes huge. "Well, that's your opinion." Yup, it is lady. "Unfortunately though that just isn't true, we're all born with sin." Yeah okay, whatever. "What do you think of all of these religions? Aren't you afraid of anyone not finding the right way? I'm thinking of a Higher Power, do you know who I'm thinking of?"

Baited question. "I'm assuming you're speaking of YOUR God." and she nodded enthusiastically, waiting for me to answer the rest of the question. She wanted me to say yes, I was worried, so she could launch into a discussion on how Jehovah is the only way. "I think all of us should get along. I don't care who follows what or why, provided they're a good person doing good things and living safely. That is all that matters. Happiness." Damnit, took the wind out of her sails. New approach! She tried to tell me that Allah is totally fictional (um, moreso than Jehovah?) and that Allah isn't related to the Christian God(s) at all; so they couldn't be a religion of validity or that of peace. I let those comments slide, and just stared at her until she was uncomfortable enough to say her goodbyes. I shook hands with both of them, wished them the best of days, and then shut and locked the door behind me.

oh, god, weirdness.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 05:54:00 +0000

I can't even make this dream make sense; nor can I form intelligent sentences to make it make sense, so I'm just highlighting.

Midgets body surfing in spandex luge suits around the top of the Sports Arena.
Stepsister was a cheerleader. Don't get me started. Anyone think of ME being related to a cheerleader? Not happening.
Argument with my mom over her being obnoxious during a kid's rehearsal -
Mom & Aunt coaching a group of 1st graders on a choreographed display involving cap guns and sparklers
Blonde woman climbing into my truck (my steering wheel on the right side, btw) and trying to strangle me.

Yeah. Uh huh. Told you. Weird.

dreams I can't recall; but dinner sounds smashing.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 00:33:00 +0000

Yes, that's right; I said I can't remember my dreams from the last two nights. But, I do remember waking up and going "I should remember that so I can blog it in the morning." and then promptly passed back out and don't remember shit. It'll probably hit me in about four days, out of nowhere. They do that. I'll post it when it happens.

Dinner, on the other hand, sounds smashing - so I'll blog about that.
Crockpots are miracles, aren't they? I don't know who invented them, but I love that person. Wait! Wait! Let me google it.

Well that was a big fat let down.. it was invented as a beanery all-purpose cooker by Naxon Utilities until Rival (yes, THAT Rival) bought them out in the 1970s. I wanted a name. I wanted to shake that hand. For shame.

Anyway, dinner is chicken breasts smothered in a lipton onion soup/sour cream/butter sauce with mixed veggies served on egg noodle pasta. Mmmm. I think I might even get off my hiney long enough to make fresh bread to go with it. Before anyone asks, no, I stole no recipe for this meal. I invented it out of my cupboard. I season to taste. I cook the way I drive; by braille. No, just kidding. I don't drive by braille. I drive via landmarks and get lost a lot. But same idea. You win some, you lose some. Luckily in the cooking department, it's mostly win. So use this lack of recipe, and invent a meal.

gone crunchy.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 00:44:00 +0000

*gasp*

No, I'm not going full hippie. Just.. a little crunchy.
Cloth diapering, making my own baby food (which is just 'big people food' pureed for toothless wonders), planning on putting in a clothes line, wool balls for the dryer instead of using softener sheets, making our own detergent, bread, cooking more than eating out, avoiding soy and HFCS (more strict on the soy than the HFCS, I admit, I love the shit); juicing everything that'll fit in the juicer and eventually buying a dehydrator. I think we qualify, right? A step further, I'll switch to using all natural cleansers. As it is, right now the only one I can stand the smell of is clorox. All natural would be so much nicer.

Hubby & I were discussing crafts last night.. we're kinda crafty people, just hand-painted a pair of garden gnomes last night. When Abigail was younger we took old white onesies and white t-shirts and tie-dyed them. Most fun ever, she got to help, and they were colorful changes to the wardrobe. Hubby mentioned we should do it again for Evelyn, and make her some newborn & 0-3 month sizes. We decided we'd buy a bunch and make that part of the baby shower.. everyone can decorate a t-shirt or onesie for the baby! Dawned on me this morning, we could go further with it and do diaper covers as well. :D TIE-DYE DIAPERS?!? Most awesome idea ever. Now I'm debating making sheets, too. Evelyn could have her entire room tie-dyed. Holy genius.

Now I have to browse paint schemes.

Valentine

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 17:00:00 +0000

I only remember pieces of this dream; so it's a bit convoluted. Sorry.

We were running. By "we", I mean some old cowboy type I was with, my daughter (Abigail), who was about 7 .. and myself. We were hauling ass away from something and took shelter in an old barn. While there, Abby finds a bareback pad on this old, fat bay gelding named Valentine - and is riding him around the center part of this barn (it's the size of a small indoor arena). Amazed at her talent, but really, c'mon, she's my kid after all - I'm coaching her on steering and she's got it down pretty good.

The bad guys show up, and it dawns on me - duh! we can use horses to escape. Inside the barn are two other horses, one flea-bit gray and the other a big chestnut. But we have no saddles, so we all just jump on bareback (myself on the gray) and run out into the night.. only to realize we're surrounded by this surging, rabid crowd of people who all want to see us fight whoever it was we were running from. So I grab a water gun (it materialized out of nowhere apparently), the old guy has his water gun, and I give Abigail a large summer sausage and show her how to clobber people with it.

And then I woke up.

TPMs, NC-double-A, and Park Etiquette

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 02:15:00 +0000

At the park with Abigail this afternoon, I posted on my facebook:

Dear obnoxious park mom...

you speak rudely to my child again,

and I will knock all 300lbs of you out.

Oh, man, that woman pissed me the fuck off -- to the point where my husband said to me, "You realize she'd probably kill you in a fight, right? She's like three times your size." Yeah, so? You don't mess with my kid. I will take a bitch out for it. It wasn't anything major until obnoxi-mom (as we so dubbed her, she was havoc all over the park), a classic Trailer Park Mom (herein abbreviated to TPM) dragged her 2 y/o (guessing? he was diaper-wearing and slightly shorter than Abigail but..? who knows) up onto a swirl slide .. he's screaming and crying because he doesn't want to be up there. She sticks him between her legs and then leans over to be sure the slide is clear. Well, it wasn't; Abby was on it. So instead of saying "Excuse me." or "Watch out, we're coming down." or "Move please." she starts YELLING at my daughter, "WATCH OUT! WATCH OUT! WATCH OUT!" and she probably said it for 15 to 20 times in a fucking row. Abigail was so over-whelmed by all the blatant noise that she had no idea what the woman was saying, just that she was being shouted at by this head poking over the edge of the slide. (Abigail did eventually move, but I sure as hell didn't do anything to speed the process along. I was waiting for the woman to do something blatantly mean so I could jump her. My hackles were UP.) Seriously, would you speak that way to an adult? Where's the politeness? Where's the "teaching our children by example" part? Some people have no clue at all. NC-double-A.

She was bossy and rude with other kids there too; telling one little boy to "get out of the way" because she wanted to ride on the zipline and he was taking too long to get on it. He was like 5. She was like 35. Seriously? She was climbing play structures that were already overloaded with kids, shoving her way down slides, and at one point grabbed one little boy's skateboard to try and ride it. She nearly ate shit. To be honest, I was cheering for the pavement to win.

And then her litter of children, the boys of which were shirtless (the 2 y/o, a 6 y/o) and a little girl who was pantless - wearing a t-shirt type dress that wasn't long enough, she was maybe 3 years, one other boy wearing a pair of socks that had holes so big they really didn't make any difference to being barefoot (he was probably 4) -- they were just as rude and pushy as she was/is. The sock boy picked up handfuls of sand to throw at other kids as they ran by.. and then chased Abigail with a handful of sand trying to throw it in her face.

Little bastard. I was mid-jog to go stop that nonsense when he chased her over in front of the swings and she got slammed into by a swinger. The kid on the swing felt REALLY bad, and every time she came over to the swings after that, he slowed down and stopped so he wouldn't hurt her again. Abby bit her lip and was covered in sand, but went back to playing within just a few minutes. The dad/uncle of that kid came over to make sure she was okay even. See? Kind people DO exist.

There were at least 7 groups there. There was a gaggle of pre-teen or maybe new-teen Hispanic/Latina girls (I'm thinking everyone was under 14 for sure) sitting at a bench calling each other putas and heifers (loudly, but whatever, they were harmless), a group of middle school aged boys at another bench tormenting the girls, a family of Muslims (I think they had two kids with them) that were AMAZINGLY polite and very interactive with their kids (father included, I was pleased to see); the random frazzled mom group that had four or five different women sitting there with their children off playing, all of which were rather attentive and quick to jump on their kids for any inappropriate behavior without being overbearing and stupid about it. And of course, the swinging kid's family/group - 7 in total, only the dad/uncle there with them, he had a European sounding accent but none of the kids did.. and all the kids were freakin' angels.

.. speaking of which, how odd is it for a white chick like myself to hear a European accent come out of a black man's mouth? It amazes me EVERY TIME. I've lived in San Diego too long.

.. and then there was obnoxi-mom and her litter along with a few of her friends. They were at a shady spot a good 800 yards away from the play ground, nobody supervised the children ever unless obnoxi-mom was over trying to hog the play equipment from the kids.

Makes me sad to think those children will grow up just like her. Sad, sad, sad.

d-E-d, dead.

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 18:33:00 +0000

That's a line from Robin Hood, Men In Tights by the way. Also used in Spawn, but Spawn was released in 1997 and Men in Tights in 1993, and clearly, Men in Tights is a much better movie.

Anyway; bizarre dream last night - I was dead.

I don't remember the jist other than I finally turned to my mom (because she was the only one who would/could talk to me) and I said, "Mom, am I dead?" and she responded "What do you mean?"
"You know. Dead. Not living anymore."
She asked me why I was asking (hey, nobody said my mom wasn't a smartass even in my dreams) and I gave her my list of bullet points.

1) Nobody else talks to me or even acknowledges I exist - while not a new thing to me in some situations, very odd for family members I'm relatively close to (cousins, etc.)
2) I can call cell phones and get a busy signal. Now, why this was relative to my being dead, I don't remember.
3) I was stuck in the same location in the house; and couldn't leave.

She confirmed my suspicions, and although I was bummed I was dead, I wasn't overly upset. I still had my mom to talk to, after all.

pink quartz, bath tubs, and clones of my husband...

noreply@blogger.com (Janny) — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 20:58:00 +0000

I barely remember this dream. In fact, I've been awake about 3 hours and I'm just now remembering some of the fuzzy details - it was interesting. It was a nightmare.

I was in my Dad's old house, the one I grew up in, in Campo. It was a split level ranch-style home, and the 'split' was only three steps. Downstairs, to the immediate left, was a very large bathroom - we're talkin' locker-room style. I was in that bathroom, in a large tub, and it was filled with water. My husband was there, and he was breaking apart pieces of rose quartz (that crumbled like limestone) and throwing it into the tub with me. He was violent, menacing, and angry. I was scared as hell.

He wouldn't let me go, but I told him I had to pee, so I got up and moved from that bathroom to the upstairs bathroom. While I peed, I tried to think of ways to write a note and leave it there so that my real husband (who, in my minds eye, was identical to the one threatening me) would come save me. I knew he would. But I had no pen, so I was trying to find something to do to tell him where I was.

And then I was back in the tub, with chunks of rose quartz flying at me -- before I woke up.