This happened a couple of times and one time she actually tossed the stuff. A few other times, she just bagged the stuff up and scared the crap out of me. While I still hold that method was a really screwed up way to motivate me to clean my room (It didn’t work.), I understand her motivation.

Truth be told, I’ve always been crap at picking up after myself. I still am, just ask Tucker. 

We’ve been telling the kids to pick up their rooms and playroom for quite a while. 

Admittedly, we suck at follow-through sometimes. OK. A lot of times.

I suspect, like most parents, the rate of crap follow-through has to do with just how worn down Tucker and I are feeling at that particular time. 

But we’re serious now.

We’re off to Arkansas later today since next week is the kids’ Spring Break; They’re spending a blissful week with the grandparents.

All of this is what prompted the Facebook post on the Taste Like Crazy Facebook page. 

Since not all of you saw it because Facebook likes to play with its algorithms all the time and some of you don’t “like” the page on Facebook (WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!), here it is:

 
To be just a bit more specific on what I mean by “ALL THE THINGS,” I’m talking about toys and books that have been left on their floors for weeks and they literally step on the stuff.

But do they pick said stuff up after they’ve stepped on said stuff? 

What semi-sucks about this plan is that it’s a bit of a punishment for me since I’m the one cleaning their rooms but at least it will be done. Finally.

They were warned last Monday that if they didn’t have everything picked up by today then we would pick up their things and they would have to earn the things back.

Since they’re five and seven, they’ve been warned just about every day since Monday and each time we ask them, “What will happen if your rooms and the playroom aren’t cleaned up by Friday?” They then parrot back the consequence so we know for a fact they know what’s coming.

I’ll post before and after pictures. Eventually. Once I’m done. 

I was quite disappointed in myself. 

The pain’s gotten a lot better (It was mostly a gross ache, anyway.), I quit taking the meds and even had some leftover.

That’s a good thing. I’m getting to that. 

Last night I dreamed some weird things. 

In one, I had a deep conversation with some Russian dude about his feelings on Putin and what’s going on in Crimea.^[1] In another, I was bouncing with a racoon on lime Jell-O. Figure THAT one out, will you? 

The one that has to do with the pain in my hand and the state of today involved Tucker, bugs and me whacking the shit out of him. 

Multiple times.

It was about 2AM and I was in that weird awake-not awake place.

After I beat on Tucker, I found out he had been awake “looking at the news” because he couldn’t sleep. I’m positive he wasn’t actually looking at Fail Blog.^[2]

Maybe his news reading roused me a bit? 

So I’m in awake-not awake land and dreaming about spiders and bugs and in the kinda-dream, I looked over at Tucker and dude was COVERED with various creepy crawlies.

And what does one do when your beloved spouse is COVERED with various creepy crawlies?

You beat the everloving shit out of them.

So I did.

Oddly enough, Tucker didn’t seem too put out by the pummeling. He’s a nice boy, sometimes. 

But I didn’t have anything over my sutures and since my primary hand is my surgeried hand, that was the one I used to whack Tucker.

Multiple times. 

That was a very stupid owie mistake.

Needless to say (but I’m gonna), Tucker had to cover my sutures and get me a pain pill.

It was ~2:30AM by that point; I didn’t dream after that.

I also didn’t realize all of the alarms on my phone (other than the LEAVE NOW!!! alarm) had been turned off. I woke up at 7:20…which is when Ollie has to be checked into pre-k. 

I didn’t have time to make the kids’ lunches and breakfast was served courtesy of the school. Pancakes and sausage, in case you were wondering. 

Lessons learned:

1. Make sure ALL of my alarms are good to go the night prior to when I have to get up.
2. Make lunch the night prior, too…though I tell myself that every night and, well, that’s working out GREAT.
3. Surgeried hands make adequate weapons but the aftermath sucks ass.
4. Don’t take opioids at ~2:30 in the morning when I’m supposed to get up at 6:30 that morning.
5. Sleep on the couch. 

1. ^[1]Random podcast I just found concerning Crimea. I’m listening to it whilst I write this.↩
2. ^[2]He NEVER does that. Nope. Never.↩

When I had my emergency induction with Cara back in ’06, a nurse with about as much skill with a needle as a lobotomized polar bear on crack (LPBoC) shoved an IV into the side of my left wrist. Blood went everywhere…I guess LPBoC wasn’t expecting a cannula, not attached to a line, to spurt blood? Damn thing hurt the entire time it was in and eventually became occluded. I’ve never been so happy to get rid of something.

Bad experience but I didn’t expect it to make me all PTSD and crap when, Friday, the (very nice) nurse picked that exact spot to site my IV.

After Tucker had been let into the pre-op area and I demanded he remove all the blankets and give me something to fan myself, the nurse told me she thought I had looked “really nervous and [she] was glad to see that [I] had relaxed.”

Yeah…not so much “relaxed” as got through the panic attack.

In her defense, I didn’t tell her I was freaking out. She was so business-like about putting in the IV (and I didn’t know I would have such a drastic reaction) that she was done before I thought to object.

Fast forward through two hours of waiting (and napping) and the most awesome nurse anesthetist in the history of nurse anesthetists (Avis McCalla) came in, introduced her awesome self and told me she had a “wonderful recipe” for me. This made me especially excited since I had been told the whole shebang would be done with just local sedation and I was expecting to have to fight for some sort of happy/oblivion pill. 

Avis said it with such zeal I couldn’t help but love her even more.

According to one of the surg nurses, the actual surgery took seven minutes. Yeah, I don’t remember any of it. I’m not complaining. 

Awesome Nurse Anesthetist brought me back to Earth and in about five minutes, I was stone-cold sober. I’ve never had such a great experience with Let’s Have Surgery drugs.

Now, five days later, I’ve removed the massive bandage and replaced it with a little bit of gauze and tape. The entire palm of my right hand is a giant bruise, the three stitches gnarly and I’m still taking pain meds BUT my fingers haven’t gone numb since right before they wheeled me back for surgery. 

Considering the numbness had progressed to the point I routinely dropped stuff, I say a bit of bruising, a few stitches and some pain are completely worth it. 

Annoyances of Carpal Tunnel Release surgery:

1. Not being able to use my primary (right) hand.
2. Not being able to pull up the right side of my underwear/pants on my own.
3. Worrying about one of the kids and/or Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull whacking my hand.
4. Bathing/washing my hair with only my left hand whilst either holding my right hand straight up and/or hanging my hand over the side of the tub so my surgeried hand didn’t get wet. 
5. A crazy amount of desire to decorate cookies which requires a heck of a lot of manual dexterity.
6. A crazy amount of desire to play video games which requires a heck of a lot of manual dexterity.

Though I probably won’t get to 100% with my right hand (since I waited so long to admit what was going on), if I get to 75%, I’ll be happy. Once my right hand gets to as good as it’s going to get, Lefty will be going under the knife. 

As of right now, I’m cool with that. 

Surgeryish pictures coming right up!

For the record, the monitor part of the first picture is due to the fact one of the nurses at my GP’s office hates me and always accuses me of having high blood pressure.

It’s YOU, woman. It’s not me.

Take that, hateful nurse.

And that hospital coffee was really, really good.

Anywho.

I’ll get to the hand thing here in a sec but first I want to talk about the raging headache I’ve had all day. I’m talking the most horrible hangover headache you’ve ever had but without the debauchery the prior night. A hangover headache without a reason is doubly wrong, don’t you think?

What happens when you make the mistake of telling your five and seven-year old you have an excruciating headache and won’t you stop trying to off each other in the middle of Target, please and thank you?

Basically they turn their attention to you with a vengeance and you instantly regret ever complaining. 

On to the hand. 

Tomorrow is mah surgery. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight since my hand might puke whilst under local anesthesia and aspirate its vomit. Or something.

My surgeon, who is one cool ass dude, mentioned something about being able to give me something to “relax” me and I said

I gotta tell you though, I left CAD’s (cool ass dude) office all angsty. I didn’t know why. All I knew was I wasn’t satisfied with the whole surgery thing and was basically an adult version of a petulant child. 

And then Tucker was all like

If your brain is all wackety and you haven’t a clue as to what exactly is going on with your feels, just bitch to Tucker for about twenty minutes without taking a breath and he’ll figure it all out for you. 

He (rightly) surmised my issue wasn’t with the actual surgery (I’ve had three unrelated surgeries already so I’m a pro at this stuff and stuff.) but with the fact I have other stuff going on and the general attitude is, “Oh, well…we’ll fix the right hand first and then the left and then we’ll get to your shoulders and deal with those toes that have been going numb since you were little as we make our way down.” No one (other than us) seems to wonder what’s the root cause.

Everyone else is just looking at the symptoms but not the overall picture.

So what’s one to do?

Attempt to be less petulant, hope for happy drugs and have surgery!

The reason this is so sad? I’m the Publicity Chair/Coordinator for the whole shebang.

Dang it!

Here’s a snippet (which I wrote) of the official press release for the program:

Owlsome Readers is a five-week intensive reading program for all first graders at Goldsmith-Schiffman Elementary. The program focuses on fostering a lifelong love of reading by providing incentives for chapters and books read during the program.

Incentives for the program include a t-shirt, books and goody bags. Each Friday, students receive a donated treat (like a bookmark) and a poem for encouragement and to recognize their efforts. Guest readers, from the community, read to the students each week.

I originally started putting this list together for Owlsome Readers but figured you might find it useful, too. Feel free to like Owlsome Readers on Facebook and check out the Owlsome Readers site!

Because you’re an awesome person. 

A little note on why I included AR information: the kids at our school take AR (Accelerated Reader) tests. My reasoning (Cara approved) is that if the kids are going to be reading anyway, why not make sure the books they’ve read are books they can take their AR quizzes on. This is by no means a requirement of a program…just something Cara and I think is a nifty idea.

Even if your kid’s school doesn’t administer AR tests, you have a bunch of books to choose from if you’re looking for Valentine’s Day themed books. 

Info on the AR Reading Levels if you’re not familiar with the numbers, 1.0 correlates to first grade at the first month of first grade. 3.8 would correlate to third grade, eight month. Make sense? 

Onto the lists! Woo hoo! 

AR Reading Level .8 – 1.9

• Clifford’s Valentines AR Level: .8 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 59502 EN
• Big Heart!: A Valentine’s Day Tale AR Level: .9 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 159245 EN
• Melvin’s Valentine AR Level: 1.0 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 158366 EN
• One Heart: A Valentine Counting Book AR Level: 1.2 AR Pts: .5  AR Quiz No. 136327 EN
• Valentine Mice! AR Level:1.2 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 44125 EN
• Mouse’s First Valentine AR Level: 1.3 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 57725 EN
• A Circle Is Not a Valentine AR Level: 1.4 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 42061 EN
• Lilly’s Chocolate Heart AR Level: 1.4 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 86227 EN
• Biscuit’s Valentine’s Day AR Level: 1.5 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 64471 EN
• Dragon Happy Valentine’s Day! AR Level: 1.7 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 141465 EN
• Too Many Valentines AR Level: 1.8 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 66581 EN
• Happy Valentine’s Day, Mouse! (If You Give…) AR Level: 1.8 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 135820 EN
• Happy Valentine’s Day, Curious George AR Level: 1.9 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 141464 EN         

AR Reading Level 2.0 – 2.9

• Fancy Nancy: Heart to Heart AR Level: 2.0 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 135820 EN
• A Valentine for Ms. Vanilla AR Level: 2.1 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 105358 EN
• Fluffy’s Valentine’s Day AR Level: 2.2 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 62247 EN
• Snow Valentines AR Level: 2.3 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 43687 EN
• Mia: The Sweetest Valentine AR Level: 2.4 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 156399 EN
• No Valentines for Katie AR Level: 2.5 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 138151 EN
• First Grade Valentines AR Level: 2.6 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 32011 EN
• Valentine AR Level: 2.7 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 45899 EN
• Pete the Cat: Valentine’s Day Is Cool AR Level: 2.8 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 163542 EN
• Guess How Much I Love You AR Level: 2.8 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 20235 EN
• Franklin’s Valentines AR Level: 2.9 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 30710 EN

AR Reading Level 3.0 – 3.9

• The Very Fairy Princess Follows Her Heart AR Level: 3.0 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 156302 EN
• The Biggest Valentine Ever AR Level: 3.0 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 105025 EN
• Love, Splat AR Level: 3.1 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 127426 EN
• Amelia Bedelia’s First Valentine AR Level: 3.2 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 134575 EN
• The Day It Rained Hearts AR Level: 3.3 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 10467 EN
• Queen of Hearts AR Level: 3.3 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 84664 EN
• Snowy Valentine AR Level: 3.4 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 148410 EN
• Roses Are Pink, Your Feet Really Stink AR Level: 3.4 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 19592 EN
• Valentine’s Day Disaster AR Level: 3.5 AR Pts: 1.0 AR Quiz No. 105174 EN
• Valentine’s Day Is… AR Level: 3.6 AR Pts: .5 AR Quiz No. 102214 EN
• Valentine’s Day Can Be Murder AR Level: 3.7 AR Pts: 3.0 AR Quiz No. 83381 EN
• Geronimo’s Valentine AR Level: 3.8 AR Pts: 1.0 AR Quiz No. 127909 EN
• The Valentine Cat AR Level: 3.9 AR Pts: 3.0 AR Quiz No. 126376 EN

The links contained in this post are my Amazon Affiliate links. You buy something via one of the links and I get pennies. Pennies are shiny. 

No? Just me? Liar. 

It’s not that I necessarily expect the book to suck. My writer friends are pretty awesome writers so I expect what they send me to be at least decent. Maybe even awesome.  But that dread? It’s from the anxiety the book just might suck. Then I’ll have to tell them it sucks. And that sucks. 

Luckily for me (I guess my friend, Jessica Rosenberg, too.), Aloha Also Means Goodbye doesn’t suck.

In fact, the book is great. 

It’s a quick read and though some might classify it as a “beach read” or even “chic lit” (if they are having a rude day), this isn’t a book just for women. Guys, you’ll dig this book, too. Unless you’re the type who only reads Clancy. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say Aloha Also Means Goodbye probably ain’t for you. 

The physical/paper version is coming but the Kindle version is already available for $6.99. If you’re an Amazon Prime member, you can borrow the book. For. Free. 

No risk so no excuses!

Book description via Amazon.com:

Jo and Jordan tied the knot five years ago in a mud hut in the middle of Zambia far from all their friends and family. Now they’re in Hawaii for a big wedding vow renewal ceremony elaborately planned by Jo’s mother. There’s just one small issue, something’s wrong with the wedding license issued in Africa and only Jo knows that she wasn’t legally married in Zambia.

Enter her old flame, the man she was running from when she met Jordan. He’s on the island and with his two kids, both of whom are named after her. Coming face to face with her past, just as she’s trying to brave her future, forces Jo to make some big decisions. It might even force her to grow up. Luckily she doesn’t have to do any of it on her own; her two best friends are there to hold her hand and help her down the right path. But what path will she choose? 

Despite all the upheaval and complications, Jo will eventually walk down the aisle to say “I do” to the man who completes her. But will the wedding be the one Jo’s mother planned? Or will it be something much, much better?

Now for the meat of the review.

This is a…different kind of review. In fact, I’m not quite sure I’ve ever seen one like it. What follows is actually an email I sent to Jessica right after I finished Aloha Also Means Goodbye so the book was very fresh on my mind. 

For the record, I got Jessica’s permission before posting this. In fact, she had to forward it back to me since my email got all borked and I had no record of the original email.

Note: I’ve added a “spoiler” for this since, now that I’ve reread the email, it’s kinda spoilerish.

Remember I was providing my most awesome friend the feedback she asked for. Also note I was a little…honest at times. So don’t go thinking I’m feeding you a line of BS with this since shame on you if you think I’d do that. You’ve been well warned about the spoilerishness.

Read at your own risk. 

Also, also note: what I read was basically an ARC (Advance Reader Copy) of an ARC. Because of that, a professional editor hadn’t had at the manuscript. Just felt the need to explain the first part of the email/review as to not scare you away of a most awesome book. 

Now to the “review.”  

Spoilerish Alert! Click if you DARE!

I was going to take all of these notes and then realized that the majority of what I would write down is copy editing stuff the editor is going to fix and there weren’t even that many of those.

You didn’t go too far into the Capitalist pig thing when dealing w/the Zambia part and for that I’m grateful.

My biggest thing is the first 40 pages or so–just about up until Jo meets Kona for the first time–drug for me. I had to keep making myself go back to the book.

Lord knows I’m glad I did.

Jo: She’s a believable character full of flaws and I dig that.
Andy: Dug him. He’s definitely atoned for the–assumed–sins of his past.
Jordan: You made him into such a boring tool at the beginning I almost didn’t want them to get back together. He didn’t become even a tiny bit likable until after his blow-up with Andy and then Andy talking Jordan down.

Having said that, I really dug his speech at Jo. Particularly this part: “…but everything is okay now because you saw the love of your life again, only he’s not really the lover of your life any more, I am?”

I’ve been both that selfish and self-absorbed and have also had to say close to the same thing to someone else so that fight definitely rang true.

For some reason I’d like to hear and/or see some of his relationship with his mom. Not sure why. Just piqued my interest when Jo, I think, mentioned something about his mom.
Sadie: Please write a book just about her? I enjoyed her immensely. And a whole bunch, too. She’s flawed in ways different from Jo and somehow feels both more whole and more broken. Not sure how to put that any other way. Maybe they’re just broken in different ways?
Kona: Yes, please. More. Right now. I was pretty sure you were going to jerk me around and make him a scumbag so I was expecting it and then you turned that expectation all around on me and I wanted to kick you in the shin since you executed it so well.
Roxie: I would have liked to have seen more character development with her. All the characters make her out to be a man-eater, but other than that brief episode w/Kona, I wasn’t picking up that vibe. And all the man-eaters I’ve ever know were heinous bitches and Roxie was actually quite nice.

So, maybe a bit more hoochie before she starts playing house with Andy? Or something? Or not. Trying to figure out how I would do that in this book and it kind of makes my head hurt.
Maryanne: I wanted to punch her several times during the book so obviously, you did your job. Enjoyed the way you worked some growth into her character and brought in the Richard dude.

Andy’s kids and Amber: Didn’t love or hate the kids. They were just an accessory for me to show me Andy’s growth and Amber just made me want to stab her in the neck.

I don’t do book reviews. I do impressions and I sure as hell don’t take the book out to go through the pages to look up quotes. SO I OBVIOUSLY very much, a whole lot, jump up and down on the bed, humping, singing, tweeting, Facebook sharing, pinning, Good Reads sharing and reviewing, Amazon and Barnes & Nobling loved this book.

Oh! And, hey! The links in this post? They’re all Amazon affiliate links. If you end up clicking on one of those links and then you buy something? (You BUY JESSICA’S BOOK!!!) I’ll make some pennies off of that purchase. Unless you buy a car or a really big TV or something on Amazon.

Then I’d make dollars. 

With electricity.

I’m not down for the shock thing. Ever. 

No, I do not want to put my tongue across your battery. (That’s not a euphemism though it totally should be.) Once is enough for me, thanks. 

That hot wire around your pasture? I am not touching it to see if it’s hot. Feel free to do that task yourself. 

I learned my lesson about tinkering with my electronic gadgets when I got shocked (twice) by my old Nikon camera. If you haven’t read about THAT sucktastic fun experience, you can laugh at me by following this nifty link to my Spare Parts post. 

Electricity should stay in my gadgets and not conducted through my body. 

Unlike when I took it upon myself to be all superhero camera fixer person, I’m going to be PAYING someone to shock me. More specifically, shock the nerves in my arms.

This is going to suck so much. 

While I was hanging at my doctor’s office because my Ear Ebola was persisting (and I might have found five pills of untaken Cipro about two weeks too late), fingers on my right hand went numb. This isn’t an “Oops! I accidentally cut off the blood flow to my hand. Pins and needles! Pins and needles!” 

Nope.

This is just a dead-finger feeling. There’s no pain but sometimes I drop stuff and when they’re dead, I can’t write very well. Nerves are important, yo!

I have peripheral neuropathy. Correction: I haven’t been diagnosed with that but that’s what it is. 

I shake my hands. Move my shoulders around. Feeling magically comes back and I go on with solving the great problems of humanity. And stuff. 

Unfortunately for my now-self, I decided it would be a fantabulous time to inform my doc. Should have kept my mouth shut. 

My doctor thinks I have carpal tunnel syndrome (which makes sense since I spend an exorbitant amount of time at a keyboard) but to complicate matters, I have pretty bad shoulder bursitis in both shoulders and that condition could also be pinching hand nerves (I’m feeling so medical right now…and too lazy to remember any of my anatomy classes to give you a real word for the nerve. Or google it. LAZY!). Add to all that numbness between my shoulders and I say I have a pretty good case for, “HEY! I don’t have carpal tunnel schtuff! I have My Shoulders Are Jacked!’ syndrome.”

What does my doctor know? Not like he went to school for a long time or was/is well-respected in Ireland where he was a big, important  doctor dude.

Back to the shocking part. *shudders*

I’m having (like I’m ordering a ribeye medium rare or something) a nerve conduction velocity test. What it measures would super cool–read at the link if you’re interested–if I wasn’t the one having the test. 

This right here is why I generally keep my trap shut about weird things happening to my body. Bad. Things. Happen. When. I. Talk.

Blarg! 

Keep an eye on  Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr. I have no doubt those places will give you a faster update than this space will. Probably. 

My experience in cookie making up to that point was basically…welp, I had no experience. I also didn’t know how to make royal icing or even what goes into making royal icing. Piping bags made me shudder and why would you want to frost a cookie anyway?

And who really needs cookies when there’s bacon? Am I right or am I right? 

Then I made the boneheaded move of signing up to make X-shaped cookies for Ollie’s class.

OF COURSE I knew how to do that! OF COURSE I didn’t hate making sugar cookies and OF COURSE all my attempts at sugar cookies hadn’t failed epically.

And OF COURSE I didn’t say any of that. I would make those cookies work!

And ya know what? They didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, they weren’t perfect but they weren’t hideous either and they tasted good. 

Amy – 1 Cookies – 0

Basically all that is a post for another day and I’ve gotten a lot better and I’ll post some pictures and schtuff since I know not all of you follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr and those places are where the cookie journey (or whatever you want to call it) has been chronicled. 

If anything, the cookie thing has shown me that I kind of don’t suck at this baking/decorating thing and all of that gave me the confidence to try a “fancy” cake.

No reason. Just because I wanted to. 

The cake was a $0.99 box from Target and the frosting was the cheap Target brand “vanilla” kind. Frost your cake before you add the fondant. The piping (If you want to call THAT piping.) was made from leftover frosting I colored. I had the colors from my cookie making escapades.

Good luck!

I have lots of feels tonight, people so you’re basically going to serve as my best-friend/therapist/sounding board/something. Just listen. Err…read. And if you’re feeling all TL:DR, you can get to the main point by clicking here. This is a rather long, ranty, gif filled post of awesome but I know some of you can’t handle all the words. It’s OK. Everyone has issues. 

I’ve become a bit obsessed with the making and decorating of cookies. I have no doubt this is a passing obsession and I’ll probably move on to something else in a month, but, for right now it’s all cookies all the time. This means I have to make the royal icing to top said cookies. That means I must have at least a hand mixer since you can’t whip this stuff up all on your lonesome. 

And then this happened:

Why is this relevant, you ask? Well, other than the fact that the crappy mixer dying blew in a major way, we went to Walmart tonight and Tucker bought me a $7 POS to get me through “until Christmas.” Me thinks that’s a subtle hint I’m getting a badass, gas powered hand mixer for Christmas. Or a team of elves to make my royal icing. Both? Cause that would rock. 

And why is THAT relevant, you ask?

After we left Walmart, we drove through a neighborhood with a blinking sign outside of the subdivision that promised “BLINKING CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.” 

As we were leaving, I spotted an itty bitty chihuahua in the gutter. I stopped my SUV and the little dude started coming toward us. Tucker gave me with this “WTF are you thinking?!” look and told me to drive.

And I did.

Tucker’s reasoning (which I totally understand so don’t hate) was we were in a nice neighborhood, there were people out and about and little dude had probably just wandered off. When we left him, I saw him daintily trotting into a yard full of blow-up Christmas kitsch and tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that at least he’d have the blowers and radiant heat of the MASSIVE OMG THEY WERE SO BIG Christmas lights to keep him warm. 

But it’s cold, y’all. We put a quilted jacket thing on Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull before we let her spend any extended amount of time outside. She’s old. Don’t judge. But little dude? Not a stitch of canine pride eviscerating clothing. And he was shivering…though isn’t that a chihuahua thing?  

All the way home I was vacillating between being pissed Tucker told me to leave and I listened to him to me agreeing with him to me silently begging him to tell me to turn around.

And then the dumb tears started working their way to the surface. 

Which I found incredibly dumb since I’ve never met a nice chihuahua.

Each and every one of the little bastards has either growled a demonic growl complete with bared mini-fangs, tried to bite me or has tried to assassinate me. Oh yes, yes I do realize I’m painting an entire breed with a broad brush. Yes, yes I do realize there are (probably) very nice Chihuahuas inhabiting the Earth. Duh. We own Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull, remember? I might know a little something about people assuming bad things about our dog because of something they’ve heard or because of a bad experience with another pit bull.  

But even Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull, with all of her 60+ pounds of stupid, is terrified of Chihuahuas. Sad but true, people. She was mauled by a (very mean) chihuahua when Sophie was about ten weeks old and she hasn’t been a fan ever since. If she sees one, her ears go flat on her head, her eyes get this weird slitted thing going on like a bad WWII American propaganda caricature of a Japanese person and she runs in the opposite direction.

Bringing little dude home definitely wouldn’t have made Sophie happy (NOT THAT I WOULD HAVE KEPT HIM!!!) and Tucker was definitely worried I was going to want to keep little dude (WHICH I WASN’T!!! Didn’t I prove that with Biscuit, people? Sheesh! I had forgotten how damn cute he was! Make sure you watch the video but don’t judge the intro and font. ) but all I could think about was:

Either way, little dog’s outlook wasn’t too bright.

We got home, I started heating up the oven for dinner and had to grab a tissue since the tears had started in earnest. Tucker hugged me, gave me a once over and told me to go get the dog.

I flew out of there faster than you can say, “Deuces!”

Welp, I drove all over that damn subdivision. Up and down the streets. Past the same houses over and over and over and over and you get the point. No little dude. After about 15 minutes, I was ready to give up.

OK. No, I really wasn’t.

What I really wanted to do was get out of my SUV and walk the streets while I quietly whistled for little dude so I could stuff him under my puffy jacket, take him home, tell Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull to deal with her issues and welcome her temporary brother while I run him a warm bath and then spread his picture all over social media so I could find his owners. 

Worst case scenario? I had Mom’s Christmas present. 

But, sadly without little dude, I decided to call it quits and started toward the exit. At least I thought it was the exit. It wasn’t. I couldn’t find the exit. I looked for that fucking exit for ten minutes. I’m kind of surprised no one called the cops. I mean, really? The same vehicle drives by your house twelve times at ~10mph, you get kinda freaked, right? I know I would. Not that I’m paranoid or anything. Nope. 

Peoples, I’m talking the Hotel California of subdivisions but with less warm smell of colitas, mirrored ceilings and pink champagne on ice and more piped-in Christmas music and seizure inducing Christmas kitsch.

For. Eternity.

And then, right before I lost my mind completely, I saw a woman walking her dog. And here’s where the REALLY conflicted feels happen.

To catch you up: To this point right here, I was imagining a little dude as either a popsicle little dude or a flat little dude come morning. So, when the very nice lady and I have a short, very nice conversation about my quest and she tells me there is a house in the neighborhood with occupants who let their little dude roam around “all the time” and she and I both shake our heads all judgy like, I’m actually hiding this pushed down rage like you can’t even image.

Now look here, people. I get the “Dogs will be dogs and dogs want to roam,” thing.

My father’s mother is like a million years old and lives in the middle of 200-odd acres. She never had “inside” dogs; they were free to run around and come back when they felt like it. My father was a farmer. All of his dogs were treated the same way. Usually nothing too bad happened to them and they usually made it home in one piece. Growing up, I didn’t think that was especially cool but it was what I knew so I just let it go. That and they were big dogs that could take care of themselves.

But little dude is MAYBE the size of my shoe and, because of the Christmas lights, people aren’t watching the road. They have their faces plastered up to the windows of their vehicles so they can more fully experience the Christmas cheer. And did I mention it’s cold out tonight? And raining?

So now I’m conflicted again. 

Do you have any idea how PISSED I would be if Sophie the Wonder Pit Bull got out of the house, heading to Mexico, and someone picked her up? I bet they would jump to the conclusion I jumped to and ask (in a very loud mental voice): What asshole dog owners would let a dog wander around in the cold and where the dog could get flattened?!

I finally found my way home, vented at Tucker, helped get the kids into bed, grabbed a beer and then started writing this discombobulated post.

My takeaway question for you is this: 

Should dogs (of any breed/shape/size) be allowed to just roam around wherever their little doggie hearts take them? 

And to think I planned on cleaning the trainwreck kitchen, reading a bit of vampire porn and then getting into bed before midnight. 

To those of you who made it this far, you’re my heroes. To those of you who didn’t? Losers. Though I guess you aren’t reading this, huh? Still. Losers. All y’all. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have vampire porn to read. Scanguards Vampires #5, if you’re curious.

Later, gators. 

OH! Before I really leave, make sure you check out the post before this one: 20 Things Every Gifted Child Needs To Know…and Probably Everyone Else, Too. Folks seem to dig it, I don’t hate it and you just might like it. If you have a soul. Just joking about that last part. Even soulless people like the post. 

At first we assumed it had something to do with her reflux but as the pain persisted with no obvious trigger, we started to suspect her pain had less to do with a physical issue and more to do with an emotional issue: stress/anxiety. 

There are few things more annoying and upsetting than 1. your kid being in obvious pain and not being able to help and 2. trying to explain to a seven year old that all of her worrying is making her hurt. 

I had considered writing a post about “gifted” kids and how we’ve been talking about maybe petitioning (if you will) to have both kids put into the school’s G/T (Gifted/Talented) program–they call it SPACE (Special Programs for Academic and Creative Excellence) here. That’s one hell of a complicated topic that would result in a post of epic proportion and I’m not going to do that to you.

This is going to be long enough as it is. If you want to just jump right to the list, click here. 

You’re welcome. 

I guess we’ll just consider this #1 in a series of posts…which probably won’t ever be finished. I have a habit of not finishing series of posts. Can anyone say Word of the Day? 

I tested into G/T right out of kindergarten and continued in gifted/advanced/honors/AP classes up until I dropped out of college. Tucker was also in his district’s gifted program (He has a SLIGHTLY higher IQ than me…not that I’m bitter or anything.).

Mom tells the story of going to pick me up from grade school and not being able to find me. She eventually discovered me in a corner crying because I had gotten a B. I don’t remember this. She might be lying. Who knows? 

I’m joking about the lying part, Mom. 

The point, I suppose, is I had a perfectionist streak. 

I worried a lot more than I probably should have. I took criticism way too personally and hard. My need for approval was probably one of the most important things to me (I try not to be like that so much now. Really.) and was crushed and felt slighted if I felt someone was disappointed in me. And Grandpa routinely called me “Drama Queen.” Now that I’ve listed all this out, I’m starting to think I must have been an overly dramatic and neurotic child. 

Those poor, poor people who had to put up with me…

And Cara? She’s just like I was. 

Her Those poor, poor parents people who have to put up with her…

Yesterday Cara brought home her quarterly and weekly progress reports and one of the scores on her weekly report was a 1 (4 is the highest possible with a 1 essentially meaning F.). The girl was hysterical and the complaints of stomach pain started. 

She had made a stupid mistake on a logic/problem solving math question so she had earned the score she got and once I helped her calm down, we went over the problem. During the course of all that craziness, this list got started. 

My hope was that if I listed off things she knew, things that were constant and would never change, Cara would have less to worry about. I wrote 1-9 with her next to me giving me suggestions and then reading them off, one-by-one. 

She cried a lot. My eyes might have teared up once or twice. Allegedly.

OK.

So the list might have hit a bit too close to home for all involved. 

After I sent Cara off to do her homework, I continued with the list but switched to what I know. The 20 things, a few are especially targeted at “gifted” kids/adults but the vast majority will apply to everyone. I’m sure I missed something; feel free to add your own to the comments section below. 

Let the list begin!

20 Things Every Gifted Child Needs To Know…and Probably Everyone Else, Too

1. My parents/family will always love me. 
2. I will always have somewhere to live.
3. I will always have food to eat. 
4. I will always have clothes and shoes to wear. 
5. I will always make mistakes but I will be loved anyway. 
6. Perfection is a goal and not a destination. 
7. Someone will always be smarter than me and that’s OK and sometimes I will be someone else’s someone. 
8. I will never be good at everything and that’s OK, no one else will be either. 
9. It’s not my job to solve everything. 
10. There are mean people in the world. You will get your feelings hurt by those people and by people who don’t even know they hurt you. 
11. There are times when you will be one of those mean people. You will hurt people’s feelings even if you don’t know it. All you can do is try, everyday, to be kinder.
12. You may never know what you want to be when you grow up and that’s OK. I know more adults who DON’T know than do and most adults only ask you because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do. 
13. If you’ve done it, thought it, said it and/or written it down, someone else has, too. You’re not alone. You’re not as strange as you think you are. 
14. You will like people who don’t reciprocate. There will be people you don’t like. 1/2 the time it has nothing to do with the other person. All you can do is focus on the people who are your friends and the people who want to be your friends. Try not to spend too much time worrying about it but don’t beat yourself up too much when you sometimes fail at that last part. 
15. If it’s living, it will die and that sucks and there’s nothing you can do and that sucks, too. You’re going to feel a lot of different things and that’s normal. 
16. People are good at different things. You can not be good at everything and that will probably bug you; it bugs a lot of other people, too.
17. You will make good grades. You will make bad grades. Good ones don’t mean you have nothing left to learn. Bad ones don’t mean you’re a failure. 
18. You won’t always get your way and you will never have everything you want. Sometimes you won’t even get everything you think you need. 
19. People think about things in different ways. People believe different things. You will never agree with everyone about everything. All you can do is try to find common ground and that won’t always happen either. 
20. Oxford commas are evil.

If you have your own “knows” I’ve left out, add them down in the comments. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!