Miss Understood

The Beaver Stole My Can Opener

2012-08-04T10:54:00.000-04:00

I've thought of becoming a Hermit, even just for short periods of time. I'd like to think I'd be a little more prepared than this guy, but how does one really prepare to be a hermit? An interesting, funny short documentary about a hermit living in the mountains of Utah, what made him decide to be a hermit and his quarrel with his antagonist, the Beaver.

"Mama"

2012-08-02T23:22:00.001-04:00

Darian was being such a pucker pot today. He was over tired most of the day having had little sleep last night and has been fussing at me most of the day. I gave him a bath this afternoon after he managed to mash his cookie into one ear, nostrils and hair. He whined, smacked the water and cried chanting "baba" over and over and over.

"Baba's not here. Mama's here." I told him while trying to clean him of cookie goo. He didn't care. He just kept calling for his daddy. In early evening while Eran slept and being exhausted myself, I had the chance to lay down with Darian on the sofa in hopes he'd take even just a short nap. While we faced each other and I stroked his hair, his eyes got heavy and would start to close only to snap open. He rubbed his face with little hands and started to drift off again. Almost there! Then his eyes opened again, he looked up at me sleepily and said "mama."

All the frustration of the day melted away. All the whining, all the crying, all the weariness suddenly was worth it to hear him say "mama" for the first time. We snuggled up and both fell sleep peacefully until "Baba" got home. I was still half asleep, but was already telling Sharb about it. Sharb tried to get Darian to say "Mama" again, but Darian didn't. That's ok. I can wait until the next moment I hear him say it. Once was enough to absolutely make my day.

Motherhood = No Dignity

2012-07-28T01:52:00.000-04:00

I ventured out this afternoon alone with my boys for the first time to the grocery store. Granted, I never made it through the entire store, but I attempted it. Darian can sit up at the front of the cart, but my little noodle, Eran was strapped to me in a pouch. He slept part way through while Darian made a mess of himself with a cookie, but all was well.

Then I reached the pasta isle and things went south fast. Eran woke and started fussing first followed by Darian, who lost the mooshy, slobbery bit of cookie he had left. I cleaned his hands and face the best I could with a wet wipe while trying to quiet Eran. Eran wasn't having it. Then I got a whif of him. No wonder he was crying! With poopy noodle strapped to my chest where I got to share in his aromatic diaper creation, and the cookie monster crying for another cookie, I hurried down the isle pushing the cart and got in line.

It was a bit crowded and people were turning and looking at us. I danced in place for Eran's sake while simultaneously offering Darian a bottle of water, which he kept knocking away. As we inched forward in line, Darian starts grabbing at Eran, kicking his feet and crying. He managed to pull us closer to the cart and starts gnawing on the baby pouch where the noodle was. Figuring out Eran was not what he was after, Darian returned to pulling us closer to nuzzle me. Lord help me, he was wanting to eat! I had to make him let go and sit back in the seat. That made him angrier.

By the time we reached the cashier I had sweat running down my face and back. I unloaded the cart as fast as possible, danced, tried to quiet Darian, thrust money at the cashier, got my bags and pushed that cart to my car like it was a race. I got my screaming, stinky kids in the car seats, put the bags in the trunk, got in the car and started to cry with them. A cop got out of his car across from us, walked by looking at me in the drivers seat crying and blowing my nose into a tissue. He motioned for me to roll the window down then peeked in at the boys and asked if everything was ok. Feeling completely stupid, I assured him I was and explained it was the first time for me going out alone with two babies and I was a little over whelmed. He laughed and said "Ah, well the worst they can do is cry, right? Just take a deep breath and relax a minute. It'll be alright. Be careful driving home ok?" With that he headed toward the grocery store and I glanced back at my kids whose eyes were squeezed shut, faces red and mouths open crying in the car seats.

Once I got home and unloaded the groceries with stinky little Eran still in the pouch and Darian on the floor, I put the cold food away, left the rest still in bags, scooped Darian up and off we went to get clean diapers and a snack. While they quietly nursed drifting off to sleep, I looked down at my adorable moosh mooshies and thought "Who are you kids? Where did you come from?"

Who knew a first shopping trip would be so traumatic?

Gee Thanks

2012-07-23T23:12:00.002-04:00

Sharb woke me up before leaving for work this morning with a sweet kiss on my forehead then he stood there a minute stroking my hair. I peeked up at him with one eye and he smiled down at me and said "Dooset daram, habibi (I love you baby). I'll see you later." Then after kissing me again he left.

I woke a couple of hours later. Darian was entertaining himself laughing and squealing in his crib in the next room, but Eran still slept in the bassinet beside my bed. I got up and poked my head into Darian's room and said "Boo!" He sat up excitedly and started chanting "bababababa!"

"No, say mama, pucker pot" I teased and he squealed again.

I got Darian from his crib. By the time I changed him and carried him to my bed, Eran was waking up. So my two boys and I snuggled in bed. I stroked their soft hair while they nursed. I felt so tranquil, so blessed and in love with my babies and my life. I thought about Sharb and the sweet way he left me this morning. Monday was starting out beautifully! Minutes later my phone notified me of a message. I reached for it and saw it was picture mail from my hubby.

I smiled to myself. Surely it was something mushy...

Pregnancy Pie

2012-07-23T00:30:00.000-04:00

A bit of conversation between hubby and I during my last week of pregnancy with Eran....

Sharb went to the fridge and looked inside. He then bent down, rummaged through stuff, straightened and leaned back to look deeper inside. Then looking at me over the door a bit confused, he said "Where are the Hershey pies I bought last night?"

I glanced at him from the kitchen table where I was sitting. "I ate them."

His eyes widened "You ate all 4 pies in one day?"

"Actually there were 5. They gave you an extra by mistake."

The door closed and he stared at me from across the kitchen. "You ate 5 in one day? That's an entire pie!"

"I know and they were good."

"You couldn't save me one?" He asked partly pouting, partly amused, partly shocked.

"It crossed my mind, but then I kept eating them."

He sighed heavily then looked around on the counter tops. "Where's the banana bread you made?"

"I ate that too."

He stared at me again then turned and walked out. Moments later he came back with his shoes and keys in hand. "Where are you going?"

"To get a Hershey pie."

"Get me one!"

"I think you and Eran have had enough".

Boys...Lord Help Me!

2012-06-13T18:52:00.001-04:00

I was listening to a conversation the other day between my husband and his brother. While lounging on the back deck and drinking down bottles of cold water, they laughed, giggled, snorted and talked about stupid things they use to do growing up with each other and friends. I knew when they hit a subject they didn't want me to hear in the kitchen because their voices would get lower and they'd start speaking in Persian. Soon would follow loud, hilarious laughter.

Boys are nuts.

I didn't really think to much about it until today while remembering back to some of my male friends especially in high school. I got in trouble a few times, earned a couple of detentions, tongue lashings and suspension for always doing something tragically stupid they drug me along on. Yet, it never failed, I was always accused by school hierarchy of being the ring leader. No, I was just dumb.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...I have one boy now and another on the way with God knows how many others in the future. I suddenly panicked a little. Once that testosterone hits and is dripping down the walls I'm in for some big trouble. They're bound to be taller than me probably by the age of 10 and outweigh me by at least a 100 lbs. How will I handle that when my husband isn't home?

Then I felt some relief. I have cast iron frying pans! That's how I'll handle it. DONG!! "Mom, I can hear the ocean!" before one falls over knocked out cold.

Only boys can lunge at each other from across the room and pulverize one another only to get up and go hang out together. I use to see it all the time in High School. It was like clash of the titans in class. The trigger would usually be "What are you looking at?" or "What did you say to me?" Then wham! Fists would be a'flying, desks knocked over and a teacher screaming like a banshee "STOP IT! Knock it off!" while trying to get between the two to break it up.

While being a girl, I am well aware of how sneaking and moody we can be, but I'm genuinely afraid of the male beasts I'll be raising. How many times will I be called into school because they've done something completely stupid and dangerous? How many bloody noses will I see and pass out from? How many broken bones will have to be fixed? How many cars will they wreck? How many parties will they throw in our house while we're gone? How often will I have to beat girls off with a stick or call up parents and say in a demonic, hysterical voice, "keep your daughter away from my son!"

My husband assures me he'll keep them in line, but I worry he may join in. How many times will my husband tell them "don't tell your mother I did that" or "don't tell your mother I bought that" or "don't tell your mother I knew about that"?

Crap....

Eating Organic Makes You A Jerk

2012-06-04T08:29:00.002-04:00

Sadly, it's true...

Fox News Story

"When folks start shopping and eating organic, a self-righteous change begins. In other words, they become snobs." - Dr. Dale Archer

Belly Dancing For Childbirth And Pregnancy

2012-05-20T16:29:00.000-04:00

A little older dance recital. I'm in gold...

Belly dancing is a hobby I started a few years ago for the workout benefits, the art and for my husband (eye roll haha). Belly dancing is a ton of fun with enormous health benefits.

Though it can be used sensually and privately, it's an ancient style of dancing believed to have started for expectant mothers. It's excellent for an entire body workout of strengthening/lengthening of the spine, core muscles (essential to birth) legs and upper body by isolating every muscle group.

Baladi dance 3 mos pregnant with Eran

Belly dancing helps prevent osteoporosis, arthritis and offers PMS relief. More importantly, it's a nice gentle workout during (and after) pregnancy to help prepare the body for later/heavier stages of pregnancy, labor and delivery.

Belly dancing can be safely performed all through pregnancy and immediately following delivery depending of course, on the form of delivery. I was on strict bed rest during my pregnancy with my son Darian, but once I had him I was back to exercising and belly dancing. Currently, I'm continuing to dance and I'm almost 8 months pregnant with my son Eran and will continue until I deliver.

If you're one of those moms who wants to stick to an entirely natural birth then I recommend it. Though I wasn't planning a natural birth for my son Darian (I'm a wimp) all the belly dancing played a role in managing 43 hours of labor.

There's no set body type to belly dancing. Historically, heavy women have performed. In my class we have a very mixed group of pregnant ladies, older and full figured women who enjoy dancing because it makes them feel beautiful and sensual.

Schools are literally everywhere. The more you practice outside of class the better you'll get faster. As with all things, practice makes perfect and it all depends on you. Granted we can't be Saida (she's absolutely amazing!) right away, but it's worth the effort. You can learn belly dancing in a non-judgmental and fun atmosphere for whatever reasons your little heart desires. Check your area!

YEAH TOAST!!

2012-05-19T23:19:00.002-04:00

I shout this out at random times. Though it's fun I don't recommend shouting "Yeah toast!" when all's quiet and your mate is falling asleep *giggle giggle snort*

Some People Will Buy Anything

2012-05-19T22:02:00.000-04:00

And some people will believe anything...
Alicia Silverstone Chooses Orgasmic Birth Option

Now you have to wonder: why do we want to emulate these people?

Broseph! Taking It To The Next Level Bro

2012-05-17T14:56:00.000-04:00

I hear this type of conversation all the time. "Bro, bro-man, bro-ster, bro-mac, bro-tana, bro-nard, bro-zle, bro-minga" and that's just between my husband and his friends. Now we can add "bro-seph and bro-ham" to the volcabulary. Balloonshop....I love these guys.....

Pregnant Man Films Crazy Wife

2012-05-10T07:49:00.002-04:00

Breaking News - TMZ

The pregnant man got exposure on Oprah by being...well, the pregnant man. Except it's not a man. "He" is a woman that wants to be a man. I wanted to be a princess when I was a kid. I made everyone call me a princess and when I played princess I truly believed I was a princess. Did that make me a princess? No, it made me a little girl with an imagination.

Do I need to point out the obvious here? Dude if you can have babies and all your plumbing will support, has supported or could possibly support a baby, if your body makes estrogen...you're a chick. I don't care how many surgeries/hormone treatments you've had.

Now the "woman who wants everyone to call her the pregnant man" filmed her wife (who look like she is a man) throwing a hissy fit and threatening to throw the family computer in the pool. Clearly she's antagonized by "pregnant man" because she's filming her, but we're not supposed to notice that.

There are so many things wrong with this I couldn't begin to sort it out. But since she wants everyone to know her as the "pregnant man", let's start there. She never sobs while being hit with the computer. Only when her wife is attempting to destroy the computer. And she sobs....not like the man she wants us to think she is, but like the woman she really is. "Why would she do that!" You'd think she was trying to throw the kids in the pool.

The kids are crying, (clearly more upset by their father/real mom) she's sobbing, the wife is in the back yard with the pc and you know the neighbors are watching. poor kids and poor neighbors.

They call this a fight? I can think of a few fights my husband and I had that actually made me think the video was a joke. Granted we've never put our hands on each other, but when we fight...we fight. Do we feel stupid and apologize afterward? Of course and we work on it, but this was really no fight. It was a total set up by "man mom". They're obviously not getting along, headed for divorce, the wife seems completely stressed out and has been drinking, the real mom/father is wanting the kids cause that's what moms do.

If I woke up one day living in that situation I'd probably drink too. If I tell everyone I'm a zombie, dress as such, believe I am and make everyone call me a zombie, do you think I can get on Oprah?

Funny/weird

Woman or Crypt Keeper?

2012-05-08T11:54:00.000-04:00

TMZ Story

YIKES!

The rotisserie queen (aka Patricia Krentcil aka "Tanning Mom") claims she's the victim of a witch hunt. It looks like the angry villagers got her! The tanning bed addict became famous following her arrest by police after her 5 year old daughter told a teacher that she got a sun burn while visiting a tanning booth with her mother.

Now Patricia Krentcil is lashing out at the media, Snooki, giggling passerbys, barking dogs and anyone else that gets in her way.

She said she got this dark not just by laying in tanning booths, but by doing yard work outside. Where does she do yard work, the Kalahari? I'm not even sure I buy the tanning bed excuse. She looks like a struck match. One can only achieve that beef jerky look by laying on a BBQ grill.

Be The Stud You Always Knew You Were

2012-05-06T08:13:00.000-04:00

Sissy Girl And The Nose Ring

2011-10-28T09:51:00.000-04:00

Recently at a BP gas station I ran into the girl who pierced my nose at her mother's salon a year or so ago. When we first saw each other I recognized her right away, but she didn't recognize me although she kept looking at me. She was in line a head of me to pay for gas and while she paid she must have remembered where she knew me from. When she stepped out of line, she stopped, pointed at me and said "I knew I knew you, but couldn't place you." Then she started laughing and said "you're ring looks good!" (just a tiny stone I wear in my nose).

Even though we didn't know each other, we shared a terrifying few moments together and I don't think she'll ever forget it. I'm the kind of person that can't stand the sight of blood or seeing any type of injury on myself or others. I'll go into mini shock with sweating, dizziness, nausea and, at times, will pass out.

I went to a salon to have my nose pierced. I assumed it would be as fast and painless as getting ears pierced. To my relief, she used a gun. However, the stud the gun shot into my nose wasn't the stud I wanted put in. So she removed the first one and tried to put in the stainless steel stud I wanted. It wouldn't go in. God bless her....she kept working it though, determined to get that stud in. I was turned away from the mirror to purposely avoid seeing any blood. None of it actually hurt much. The gun does initially, but not like I thought it would. So she's trying to get the stud in and is trying everything she can, but it still won't go in.

I started to feel sick simply because it was taking too long and I became focused on the feeling of the stud going in and out of my nose and the blood I could feel running down my upper lip soaking into a napkin I held there. That's all I needed. She must have noticed it on my face because she stopped, held up her latex gloved hands and asked if I was ok. On the finger tips of her right hand was blood.

Lord have mercy! Don't let me see the blood!

The next thing I knew she was patting my cheeks going "Hey...hey are you alright? OMG!"

I past out....with my eyes wide open. It freaked her and her poor mother out. Didn't freak me out. I'm used to it, but they had no idea what was happening. I was only out for a few seconds, but it was enough to scare them for the rest of their lives. The poor girl was shaking. Her mother brought me water and kept asking if I was ok. I tried to explain to them it was nothing, my reaction is actually hereditary and I was fine. She got a new pair of gloves on, apologized and said "I know you want that stud, but it's not going in. I'm gonna put a smaller post stud in." I agreed to it, cause frankly I just wanted it to be over and go home.

She got the other in and clipped it inside my nostril and the poor girl shook the whole time. After I cleaned my face I thanked her, apologized several times to them both and gave her a $20.00 tip for her scare and trouble. I'm so glad there was no others in the salon at that time. Even as I talked to her briefly in the gas station I found myself apologizing again. She waved it off and said "Don't worry about it. It was a good lesson for me so if it happens again I'll be better prepared."

Nose rings aren't worth it.

Darian

2011-09-02T20:15:00.000-04:00

Darian Seth was born September 1st at 3:08 pm. He weighed 6lbs 5 oz and was 19 1/2 inches long. I can't imagine how big he would have been had I gone full term. Amazingly enough he needed no special care and was able to nurse right away. He's absolutely beautiful and looks just like his daddy. I don't see any of me in him yet lol. I'm still in awe over what Sharb and I made.

I labored for over 43 hours with no drugs (not by choice). More than half was spent in hard labor but my body was moving slow and dilating was taking forever. As long as me and Darian were doing good they let me continue no matter how long it took. Each hour Darian stayed inside me the better it was for him. It was the single most excruciating and exhausting time of my life. If labor is judgment and mercy and is to remind me I'm a fallen creature in need of a Savior...I got that message loud and clear lol

When it came time to give birth I just wanted it over with. I was so exhausted from labor and not sleeping but I was determined to finish it. 5 pushes later I felt him come out. It was the weirdest feeling. Moments later he was crying. As soon as Sharb cut the cord the doctor handed Darian off to a nurse who rushed him to the other side of the room to examine him. It wasn't long later though when a nurse brought Darian over and laid him on my chest (for that initial skin to skin contact) and said "he's perfectly healthy mom." Me and Sharb just started to cry. We'd both been praying he'd be healthy and he was.

We were positively in love with him. I've never felt anything like it. He cried nonstop from the moment he was born until he was laid on my chest where he instantly went quiet. I remember Sharb saying "Look at him. He's with mommy and happy." That made me cry more. All the pain and long hours of travailing in labor I couldn't even remember. He was so small, so warm, soft and bright red from screaming. I couldn't take my eyes off him. There is no greater proof of God than to look into the face of your own baby. I couldn't believe he was mine.

The little piglet also tried to nurse immediately then resorted to sucking on his hand lol. He's definitely his father's son. Born hungry. Then I was hit with more pain because the doctor was pressing on my stomach, but having Darian there...nothing else mattered. The room could have exploded around me and it wouldn't have broke my attention on this little man.

Sharb is so proud I don't think even he can stand it lol. He didn't want to leave the first night after Darian was born. I had to make him because I knew he was exhausted as well. He slept very little the whole time I labored and didn't eat much either. He must've called/text everyone twice and sent out pics through phone and email to everyone me included! He's so cute. While Sharb holds him or watches him nurse he'll sing to him or talk to him and say things like "you'll be the best soccer player in the world" and "kicking mommy so hard was just practice wasn't it?" Sometimes while Darian's nursing he'll stop feeding and open his eyes as if listening. The first diaper change Sharb did and Darian was wide awake and being a wiggle worm all over the place. No surprise there. He was a wiggle worm inside me. He just wouldn't lay still and Sharb got all concerned and said "what do I do? I'm afraid I'll break him if I try to make him lie still". It was too cute and all I could tell him was "do the best you can".

Between him, Tracy, friends and family they kept me laughing, as comfortable as possible, encouraged and distracted during the long haul of labor. I can't believe we made it through. Everything was such a struggle, but now when I hold my baby every moment was well worth it. I thought for sure it would take me a lot of time to recover, but I was up and around that evening and felt great. I'll be released tomorrow morning and Darian is going home with us. Right now he's got a full tummy, clean diaper and is sleeping in the his little bed next to mine. I cannot believe God gave us something so priceless. He's so beautiful and I couldn't have hoped for any better...

In Labor

2011-08-30T20:01:00.000-04:00

38 hrs in of hard labor. I was in the I hate my husband mode

This baby doesn't want to wait anymore and he's decided to be an early bird...6 weeks early. He's doing good and has been given the all clear to come out and say hello. My doctor predicted he'd make an early appearance and he was right. I'm a little worried even though I've been assured he'll be fine. He'll probably just have a little longer stay in the hospital. I found out my my doctor's out of town. That weirded me out at first, but he's left me in the hands of another doctor. She's been in to see me and I like her.

Things are moving slow. I've been in the hospital for a little over 5 hours now. Though the contractions are getting stronger I'm only dilated to 2. This could take a while, but I'm ok with that. I have free internet, TV, a private room, my cell and I'm out of my stupid bedroom. I've been having mild contractions since this morning, but I've had them on and off for so long I didn't pay much attention until my water broke this evening. So here I am hoping and praying all goes well.

Tracy and I during my early labor stages

I also have a visitor from Boston who's been in town the last couple of days for a conference in Toledo. An old friend of my father's whose sticking around to meet Darian. She's convinced he's coming early because he just can't wait to meet her too lol. I'm really glad she stayed.

It's a funny thing. I've stayed in a hospital before and when night comes things quiet down and patients sleep. Not in delivery. Nurses are coming and going, lights on everywhere, a lot of activity with monitoring me and the baby, exams, preparations and instructions about delivery and breastfeeding. I wasn't here long before I started asking about drugs haha. I'm such a sissy, but there's a woman worse than me in the next room who was crying and yelling as if Jack the Ripper was popping out at her every few minutes. A nurse went into her room a little while ago and told her to knock it off because she was scaring the other mothers. Actually it was more like irritating. Some of us have yet to go into hard labor. Does she really want to make enemies? Anyway it seems to be working.

I'm so awake right now, completely excited, nervous, scared and incredibly slap happy. They keep telling me to rest because soon I won't be able to. Who can rest when their baby's coming?

My husband went to the cafeteria to refill himself with caffeine. I think he's also just trying to do something with himself since I made him stop incessantly changing the channel on the TV. He's pretty nervous and excited. It's cute.

Man...life is about to change drastically....

Male Traits

2011-08-26T22:28:00.000-04:00

No matter how responsible, dependable, smart, patient, wise or what part of the world your man may come from, some things about him are universally male.

Sharb came home from work an hour early. In tow was my friend Julia and her husband Luke. Luke and Sharb have a bro-mance, but Julia and I don't hold it against them. We're not jealous! Well...sometimes, but it's all good. The plan was Sharb and Luke would head to the gym together while Julia and I hung out and ordered ribs from Zorba's rib shack.

We were in my ~~prison~~ bedroom and the guys were below. At first we could hear them talking and laughing, but then it sounded like 2 elephants were stampeding through the house and the roof was falling. We both hurried down the stairs to find Larry and Moe wrestling in my living room. One of my houseplants was knocked from its stand near the windows and the sofa was pushed on an angle. Did they care? No. I've seen Sharb rough house before but nothing like this. Usually it involved smacking someone in the head, lightly punching a guy in the gut, bear hugs or a mock body slam.

I didn't have to yell. Julia yelled loud enough for both of us. She pointed and goes "You're knocking stuff over infants!"

So they got up from the floor and apologized. They left after cleaning up the dirt. Lord have mercy. I hope they don't act like that in public. How do 2 grown men go from leaving for the gym to WWF in a living room? And how quickly we go from wives to mothers. Can't they hug each other, hold hands, fix each other's hair or paint their nails like us girls do? Why do they need to throw each other around and make each other bleed to show affection? Weird.

On the other hand I got my exercise for the day.

Ms. Crabby Gets Flowers

2011-08-22T20:11:00.000-04:00

My hubby had flowers delivered this afternoon while he was at work. A dozen roses to be exact. The card says "With all my love, Sharb".

I've been pretty crabby the last few days from being stuck in bed, dealing with on and off contractions, cramping, head aches, swelling, sweating, Darian using my insides to train for a cage fight and peeing constantly. Instead of getting agitated he sent flowers. Man did I feel like a schlemeil. What's the scripture about doing good to those who do evil to you because it's like dumping hot coals on their head? Well it's true. My head was aburning.

Every time I think "he's gotta be sick of me by now" he always does something to show the exact opposite. He keeps this up and I'll not only go sky diving but I'll....nevermind...

I really don't know what I'd do without him. He does everything around here on top of working while I'm stuck and he never complains. I'm pretty sure I hit the jackpot with that man. He's so sweet I could just sop him up with a biscuit!

Blonde + Bow + Arrow = OMG!!!

2011-08-07T14:31:00.000-04:00

Have you ever done something that you couldn't believe you were stupid enough to do it? I mean right before you do the "stupid thing" you actually tell yourself "Don't do it! It's not gonna be good!"? I had that moment and did the "stupid thing" anyway.

I was sitting up in bed cleaning my bow for the hundredth time. After a while of being on bed rest, there's only so many books to read, so many hand puppets to do, so many little exercises to perform (we don't have TVs) so much surfing on the internet one can do before you start going stir crazy. I hate being bored. I get crabby when I'm bored.

After cleaning my bow I tried to aim it as best I could sitting on the bed, drew the string back, got my sights on a shadow on the wall then let the string go. There was no arrow....yet. Did I mention I was bored? I don't want you to think I'm a total moron. Anyway..this is where my IQ dropped about 70 points. I got an arrow from my closet. Nothing sharp, just a small blunt and stood next to the bed. I nocked the arrow and drew it back. I really just wanted to feel the tension in my upper body so I held it low for a moment. Then something came over me and I really wanted to release the arrow. I was mentally telling myself (rather yelling at myself) "Don't do it!" But the next thing I knew I released and it went right into the wall.

I stood there gaping at it. I couldn't believe I'd just done that! I threw the bow on the bed and went to the arrow sticking out of the plaster. I pulled on it, but it wouldn't come out all the way. I pulled it again and this time it did start to come out, but was pulling plaster with it. I face palmed a minute shaking my head.

The only thing I could do was call my husband and warn him that when he got home there was a minor incident that involved a blonde and a bow and arrow. I called, but no answer. I was relieved actually. What was I supposed to say? "Hi Sharb! So I was playing with my bow and shot an arrow into the wall. That's the bad news. The good news is we now have a nifty coat hanger for dwarfs if any ever come to visit!"

It wasn't even 5 minutes later when I heard his car pulling into the garage. I stood there with the arrow like a game show model presenting prizes to contestants. Part of me wanted to get back in bed and pretend nothing happened. When Sharb did notice the arrow I'd try to look confused and aghast and say "Where did that come from?"

Sharb came upstairs into the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway not seeing me in bed. Then noticing my shadow, he poked his head around the door. There I was literally cringing. His face went from confusion to shock and he gasped. One of those "I almost got hit by a car" gasps. Then he's like "What happened? What did you do?"

"I shot an arrow?" I said pointing to it.

"I can see that. Why did you shoot the arrow?"

"I don't know." I truly didn't know!

He pulled it out ripping an even bigger hole in the wall. Plaster bits and dust fell on the carpet.

"Can you fix it?" I asked

Sharb sighed and said "yes" but his tone sounded more like "I'm gonna have to you dimwit!"

I felt like a 5 year old. Believe me there was no one harder on me than me. Since then he's taken my bow and arrows to the basement and is supposed to fix the hole today. The incident did burn up several minutes. Soon I was back to not knowing what to do with myself.

Star Gazing

2011-08-05T00:07:00.000-04:00

A recent hobby of mine is star gazing. I'm not supposed to be up and around, but it's one of a few times I can move to a different location (back deck) and be a slug on a comfy lounge chair outside. After a few weeks I've become pretty good at picking out Draco cause he's the biggest, the big dipper (even 3 yr olds know that one), Hercules and ~~Cassipeoia~~ Cassiopeia.

After Sharb murdered my shirt he did present me with a gift....

It's a globe obviously with all the constellations on it. As you can see it lights up. If I turn off the little light....

My husband knows me well! Keep it sweet and simple or her head will explode and even that has no guarantees. He picked it up at Ace Hardware. So I spent 2 hours outside looking at it in that position then looking up to find other constellations. For 2 hours I didn't know what the H-E double hockey sticks I was looking at. About ready to give up and go inside to whine, it suddenly dawned on me....

Look up into it dummy! And the skies came alive! Not really. I mean I could now find Cepheus, Cygnus, Delphinus and Lyra but got lost fast again. The globe works great...my brain not so great. I did get to see the star Spica above the moon and Saturn to the right. That was pretty cool!

It was a nice gift and thought. I'll use it again tomorrow night. Maybe by then my brain and eyes will align like constellations.

Hobo's Dead

2011-08-04T17:32:00.000-04:00

My hobo shirt, that I've loved a long time and shared many special memories with, is gone. Sharb killed him. He was always jealous of our relationship. I swear it was premeditated, but I can't prove it.

I was wearing it today. Just me and Hobo when Sharb came home early. I was coming from the bathroom when he walked in on us. His eyes were crazy. There was murder there. He looked down, looked up at me, looked down again then he did the unthinkable.

He hooked a finger in one of the holes at my chest and ripped it. Hobo was no match. So weak, so flimsy and worn from the years, he instantly let go. He had no more fight, but he went quickly and I'm sure it was painless. The entire front hung down over my legs with only the collar and sleeves still attached. Hobo would have never wanted me so exposed. He loved me! Sharb and I stared at each other a moment. Victim to Killer. My mouth gaping in horror, frozen in utter disbelief.

So carelessly, so callously Sharb mocked my pain by simply saying "Oops."

That was his defense..."oops"! Can you believe it?

"That was so mean!" I said.

Sharb just shrugged and went into the bedroom as if nothing had happened. I had no idea the man I married was so cold blooded.

I can't throw Hobo away. I can't bear the thought of him in a landfill somewhere. I'll give him a proper burial in the yard. Good bye Hobo. You were the best and you'll always be brand new and durable to me.

A moment of silence please to remember. Thank you. For you friend...

Peace out homey

Parachuting?

2011-08-02T15:24:00.000-04:00

My husband is insisting on us parachuting together once the baby's born. What a loon. Man was not meant to fly I keep telling him. Plus we'll be putting our lives in the hands of imperfect people who made those parachutes imperfectly. He's crazy. If he wants to go then I will support him, be proud of him and cheer him on wildly, but doing it on the ground. All the friends he has he can't insist on them going. It just has to be me. He says I'm the only one he wants to have that experience with. Isn't there something else we could do together that would be memorable while staying on earth. There's taking an exotic trip, pottery classes, doing cannon balls from a high diving board, felonies, toilet papering someone's house, shooting out street lights, mud wrestling in the back yard, ding dong ditch. Why parachuting?

I would rather nail my tongue to a table then be taken several hundred feet into the air and pushed from a plane. There are a million things that can go wrong. Lord have mercy. Do you know how long it took me to get up the nerve to ride the Top Thrill Dragster or the Millennium Force? I was a mindless, melt down having, panicky, screaming infant on those.

At first I took it as one of those things you talk about doing, but you never actually do. Not Sharb. He's already doing research on where to go, the cost, when to go, etc. I just sit there doing a face palm. It obviously means a lot to him, but that doesn't mean I have to agree does it? Isn't there a command somewhere that says "Thou shalt not put your wife in a position of losing control of her bladder"?

I'll be a mommy. Isn't there a rule I should be treated delicately and such? Having me jump into thin air with nothing between me and my body except hard ground isn't exactly what I'm looking forward to after giving birth. My friends think I should do it. They're not exactly sane either.

Apparently we'd be parachuting with instructors which means I'll be strapped to some guy which isn't safe for him. I can't go through a Halloween spook house without causing bodily harm to someone. Whoever this man is will not wanna be strapped to me. That would be like strapping him to a leopard. I'm a lethal weapon man. I have nails and teeth! Once we hit the ground he'll be a bald mess. Hit. That's a bad word!

If not for me...do it for the poor instructor Sharb. Think of your fellow man. You don't want to unleash this blonde Tazmanian devil in mid-air with some defenseless man do you? He'll be traumatized for life. He'll never forgive you!

Take your time Darian. Cook as long as you like little one. Mommy wants to live...

Morroccan Candle Jars

2011-08-02T00:56:00.000-04:00

Easy to make with old jars you may have lying around. All you need is transparent glass paint and gold for the trim that can be bought at any craft store. Pour some of the paint into the jar and drag it up the sides with a brush. Decorate the outside with the gold. They can withstand temperatures up to 350 degrees and are dishwasher safe.

You may need to add 2 coats of paint depending on how dark and "jeweled" you want them to be.

My Hobo Shirt

2011-08-01T04:22:00.000-04:00

I have this favorite old Red Wings championship shirt. It's not even mine really. It's Sharb's, but I took it over a long time ago. I've worn this shirt so much it not only hosts some of the worst coffee stains I've ever seen, but it's also splattered with, what could be ketchup, in an abstract pattern Picaso would be jealous of. In addition are a series of various sized holes across the upper chest, side and a couple on the back. I know how the stains got there, I obviously have a hole in my mouth, but not the holes. I'm guessing they accumulated from the shirt being washed so often. Since the stains darkened and become more pronounced and/or increased, I've not been allowed to wear it outside, if we have company and lately when Sharb's home. Not my rule. I'd wear that thing shopping. He calls it "disgusting". I call it "my ~~mojo~~ hobo shirt".

It's just one of those pieces of clothing that is so bleeping comfortable you can't throw it away. It's like an old friend. That grey, flimsy, ridiculously faded material has a road map of my adult life blotched all over it. When I put it on, it's better than clean underwear. It's the feeling of finding that one comfortable spot and falling asleep. It fits so nicely over my belly that it's not constricting, weirdly (is that a word?) big nor do I have to pull it down constantly. Holes and stains only increase the comfort thus its value. I sleep in it, I've cut grass in it, I've shopped, played hockey, gotten my hair done, traveled, swam and been sick in it. I've moved, cleaned the house, cooked, been depressed, been happy, been angry and been hungry in it. I've argued with Sharb in it, I've made up with Sharb in it and I think I may have had it on before getting pregnant by Sharb. That shirt is a necessity. It's like my old favorite doll saved from child hood.

I would trade 10 new shirts for that one. Every time I wear it I get nagged "When are you gonna throw that thing away?" I can't throw it away. He doesn't understand. No one does. I may want to give birth and be buried in it. I love that shirt.