New Employee

One popular new plastic surgery technique is called lip grafting, or "fat recycling" wherein fat cells are removed from one part of your body that is too large, such as your buttocks, and injected into your lips; people will then be literally kissing ass. ~ Dave Barry

Thanks to the marvels of modern plastic surgery we have a new employee working at our school. I do not have a "before" picture, but as you can see I do have the "after" picture. So, it may seem as though I am ragging on plastic surgery, but I really don't care either way. I do have one suggestion, though. Make sure you have adequate time to heal before returning to work....especially if that work involves dealing with small children (and immature adults - yes, myself included). Coming to work with a make-up caked face in a poor attempt to cover horrible bruises is not wise. As a teacher, why have work done during Spring Break? Wait until summer so it won't be quite as obvious after the few months off. Personally, I had only seen the "work" from a distance because I know that I will end up laughing directly in the bruised, stretched tighter than a drum face staring blankly at me (since the botox has restricted normal movement). That was until this afternoon. I was alone in the workroom when "Michael" approached. There was no escape. Luckily she was wearing large, dark sunglasses so I couldn't get the full effect. She is a "space invader"....you know, one of those people who have no regard for a person's personal space. She was up in my face basically demanding to be looked at making really random small talk about how she didn't know I was good friends with Clementine (who was recently hired at school - and no, she is not the "new employee" to which I am referring). Duh! I'm not sure she knows my full name (and I don't mean the middle name). I escaped as quickly as I could, giggling to myself down the hall. I was bummed when I got back to my classroom only to find that Luscious was gone!!! She had gone home to ride her bike so she can lose 100 more pounds this week.

Sugar and Spice

A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for. ~ unknown

Watching a friend’s dreams come true is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Last year when Carolina got married, it was such a joy to be able to be part of her happiness. I spent most of the time I was there on the verge of tears….happy ones, of course. I couldn’t speak on her behalf at the rehearsal dinner because I knew I’d never get the first word out without turning into Blubbering Girl. Not a very nice nickname. Anyway, she knows that public speaking is not my forte and that my lack of spoken words in public was in no way due to a lack of emotion. She got a written note instead (imagine that). I never contemplated at the time that before another year had passed I would be shedding celebratory tears on her behalf once again. Today it was even more special: a message from Carolina stating that she had given birth to a healthy, gorgeous 7lb. 14 oz., 20 inch long baby girl. I was in exercise class when she called. I almost took the phone in with me, but figured that I’d be ok for the next hour. A mere 10 minutes into the class was when she called. When Daughter was born, I couldn’t imagine NOT having spoken with Carolina….I even called her early in the morning…before 8 o’clock…maybe even 7 (with her memory, she’ll know exactly). So now that the baby waiting is over, I will now wait impatiently until I can speak with her so we can mull over all the gory details as all mothers do. It’s a universal law that all who have given birth must forever speak of and rehash every detail to any other woman who will listen (and as women, we all listen to every birth story we can…they even make tv shows that we have all watched at one time or another to compare our stories to these strangers….aw’ c’mon…you know it’s true). Hmm…how long can I wait before I take a trip to Detroit to see The Baby?

Succumbing to Temptation

Pizza is a lot like sex. When it's good, it's really good. When it's bad, it's still pretty good. ~ unknown

How many vices can one give into in the course of the day? I am fried to a crisp, resembling the shell of a cooked lobster due to my need to be outside in the glorious weather (not to mention the exercise I craved hoping to lose an amazing amount of weight this week so I can stop eating 20 points each day!). I have eaten and drunk a veritable plethora of food and vanilla vodka leading to a semi-drunk state. Then there are the other vices to which I gave in (and will not mention). I have totally cancelled out any good behavior I did today by sitting here and SNARFING down half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra. OH MY GOLLY WAS IT GOOD!

Stupid Fun

It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Share the fun! While dozing in bed this morning listening to my favorite morning show, The Daily Buzz, I happened to rouse myself long enough to listen to a segment about places on the web. This one caught my attention. Visit it and you'll see why. It combines my affection for prank phone calls with my addiction to the computer. It is CareerBuilder Monk-e Mail. There you can select a chimp, dress it, accessorize it, select the background, and (THE BEST) select text for the monkey to say in a delightful email. Daughter and I had fun sending a monk-e mail to Girlfriend with a quote from Napoleon Dynamite: Tina, you fat lard, come get some DINNER!... Tina, eat. Food. Eat the FOOD! We selected that one because we put the chimp in a field of llamas. Totally stupid. Totally fun. Check your boxes, folks....you may be the recipient of some monk-e mail from moi! It may take a bit...it wouldn't let us send more than two at a time. That means that one of you diligent readers has some ma-il (you must user a sing-songy voice for that last word).

End in Sight

The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking places. ~ unknown

And damn if there haven't been an abundance of temptations THIS week. Between the 1 lb. gain last week and the friends in town, family in town, and two trips OUT of town, I have been horribly tempted and, at times, downright ill about turning down some of the temptations. The Cult has been a pain in my butt as of late. However, buying clothing 2-3 sizes smaller than I had been wearing has been quite fun! Double digits to single digits - whoo hoo! After harassment from the Cult leader via email, I finally succumbed and agreed to meet with her. The goal has officially been set. Five more pounds, 6 weeks of maintenance, and I will have earned a lifetime membership. Losing the weight is nice, but getting the free membership for life will be even better! I am a sucker for the promise of free stuff. The sad part is that it will probably take me at least 3-4 weeks to lose the last 5 lbs. What the hell was I thinking?

Ace in the Hole

Show me a good loser and I'll show you an idiot. ~ Leo Durocher

Ace....one word that personifies loser and idiot. Thank goodness for no more vomit-inducing, poor-attempt-at-looking-sexy gazes into the camera at the end of each performance. Thank goodness that I will no longer be tortured by his falsetto caterwauling causing me to think that he had been kicked squarely before taking the stage. Hmm...who should go next? Paris, Pickler or McPhee? I'll tune in next week to see who causes the bile to rise more and then make my call. The more I watch, the more I am inclined to lean towards Chris to win. Sorry to all my Taylor fans. Who am I missing? There are now 6 wanna-be's left. Oh, I think I just realized who I must subconsciously want "outta there" even before Paris, Pickler, or McPheever (ugh! that name they invented!).....it's Goat Boy: Elliott! This guy reminds me of the SNL Goat Boy character played by Jim Breuer. You check it out for yourself and then think about how right I am while you are giggling over the resemblance. Like Goat Boy, Elliott needs to be zapped with the prod and get off the show.

Inspirational

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ~ Natasha Bedingfield

When listening to music I am often guilty of not listening to the lyrics until I am convinced that I like the actual music. Sometimes a song will be around for a bit before I completely get into the lyrics. Then I am frequently disappointed by what I hear….especially if it involves most of the “hip hoppish” music that is prevalent and that I secretly adore. Case in point, the Black Eyed Peas. I really like a lot of their tunes, but am not completely sold on their lyrics. They are perfect for dancing like a complete idiot in the private confines of my home with my children. Don’t Phunk With My Heart is quite catchy, but when Son sings it in front of people that don’t know the song, it sounds as though he is dropping the “f-bomb” and I guess, for general purposes, he basically IS since the lyricists have disguised the “f-bomb” with the word “phunk”. My Humps is another gem in which the chick singing the song brags about what she will be able to get by flaunting her “lovely lady lumps” that are in the “back and in the front”. Then, for those who can’t figure out what those are, they actually end up referencing these parts as “ass” and “breasts” in a series of questions sung by a man (Whatcha gonna do wit all that ass inside those jeans?) and then answers supplied by the woman (I’m gonna get you drunk…love drunk off my humps). As obnoxious as the words are, the tunes are addictive if you are into that sort of music. Hubby is not and is often tortured when one of these wildly wonderful songs comes on the XM since it will be cranked and the Mom and Kid dance party begins. All my better judgment about exposing my children to inappropriate music instantly evaporates when we can have Instant Dance Party. These songs are not the only source of deception. Even simple sounding love ballads may sound innocuous, but are merely wolves in sheep clothing. That sappy sounding Kelly Clarkson song about never straying far from the sidewalk sounds like a touching tribute thanking someone for keeping her safe. Listen more closely and it’s not quite the case: “Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me Because of you I am afraid” Just the type of song I want dedicated to me! “Thanks for all the mental abuse you heaped on me...yes, I am safe, but terrified to live and it’s all your fault.” I know, I have provided commentary about music many blogs ago, but I have actually found a song that I thought was quite inspirational. So inspirational, in fact, that I used the lyrics to open this entry. I love the choice of words like “drench” and “illuminate” along with the comparison of life to an empty book that is to be written daily. Wow, a side of me that normally doesn’t emerge in this forum….shocking, huh? Yay for this simple, yet motivating song. I am now going to detach myself from this beast (the computer) and go write my book for today. It is the perfect day for writing….sunny, warm, and absolutely gorgeous. I will open up my dirty windows (literally) and let the sun illuminate my world. The beach will be visited in some way today!

The Rollercoaster

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grown up under the same roof. ~ Richard Bach

I have just arrived home after spending a fabulous day with my dad, More-Than-a-Stepmom, her daughter, her daughter's fiance, and his daughter. Just as last year, we spent time letting the girls play and hanging out in the sunshine on the beach. Son ended up soaked from the neck down, providing the excuse: I was just water walking. It looked more like water jumping to me, but there hits a point of exasperation when I just have to resign myself to the fact that it's not worth the effort to even utter another command and to just let the events play themselves out. Today was such a day. After our day together, we got together for dinner. Another delicious meal. I know that any time I visit Dad's I am going to completely adore everything that I consume. Today I was spoiled by two meals that the cult would not approve....but boy were they worth it! Anyway, I am rambling so I will get to the heart of this. Last year we had a similar get together. Last year left me dealing with an unexpected emotional outburst known only to Hubby. I did not share my feelings anywhere else because I was so confused and felt horrible that I was even experiencing such emotions. It's hard to even discuss them now, but I feel the need to revisit them and contrast them with the way I feel tonight. Last year I didn't make it out of Dad's housing development before bursting into tears. I had had such a wonderful evening, but as the night unfolded (and the more alcohol I consumed - maybe not such a smart move...but I did not anticipate the emotions to come) and the children filled the house with laughter that we all enjoyed, I could not help feeling like Mom had been cheated out of hearing her home filled with the joyous noises of her grandchildren. It broke my heart even though I realistically knew that the evening would not have been possible unless the events that had led up to this point had not taken place. I love my step-family. My emotions on that night were not even remotely connected to them. They were driven by my own selfishness. For years before Mom died I prayed for Dad's happiness each night. My prayers were answered; he, in my opinion, is happier than ever. He has always deserved the happiness he now has. Confused? I know I was....and most of you do not know the details concerning life before Mom passed away. I do not wish to get into that tonight. Instead, I am using this blog as a forum to mull over the stark emotional contrast I am feeling this year. When I arrived home tonight, it suddenly hit me that there was no emotional battle raging within me. The kids had still had fun. Daughter is even spending the night with her "cousin by marriage" as the girls put it. We laughed and created new memories. I had some drinks (which is probably more apparent now). All of the same characters were present (except for Brother who is out of town). It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't see the wound left by my mother's death ever completely healing, but maybe...just maybe....the wound won't always be so raw and painful....at least not all the time. I do remember a time where it hurt every day just to exist. Then it intertwined with numbness. Gradually, life resumed....but it was forever altered. Sometimes that same initial anguish can return in the blink of an eye with the same magnitude with absolutely no warning. The emotion is strong, but not as long-lived. Nonetheless, my whole point here is that I am amazed by the contrast in emotions. I am perplexed, but am thankful for the ability to experience this day without the bonus of emotional trauma (ok...maybe trauma is a harsh word, but it adds to the impact of the entry, don't you think?). OK, I know, enough of the "Deep Thoughts" for this night. I have neither solved the problems of the world nor even come close to figuring out the craziness that takes place within the confines of my skull. Oh, well. At least I have settled my brain for now by expressing my thoughts, as random as they are, in words.

Get Me a Swiffer

Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life. -- Pablo Picasso

If this is the case, then hose me down with a vat of Endust 'cause this chick is the antonym of artistic! Ethel's gallery had a grand opening yesterday. Meaning to get there at five, I ended up arriving at least an hour late. Why? A variety of reasons. Nonetheless, I arrived fashionably late (not referring to my attire, however) and perused the many examples of art that she has displayed - her own personal work in the form of beaded jewelry and breathtaking photos - along with the art of other artists that she displays and sells. Our friends from Raleigh, Hippie and Hippie's Chick, were among the artists present. It was absolutely wonderful visiting with them...even though we keep abreast of each others lives through our blogs, we had not seen them since Carolina's wedding one year ago. Hippie's Chick has created these wire hangings that are wonderfully imaginative: copper wire twisted in intricate curls and adorned with large glass marbles (sorry if I have failed to describe them well). She simply calls them Wire Things. They are quite nifty. Jazzy, another friend, has artwork being retailed in the gallery. She has created a colorful variety of scarves. At first I was a bit taken aback because she has claimed to have no artistic talent. Quite the contrary. Not present in the gallery is any offering from me. Why? Because this chick is not capable of creating anything beyond crap cut out of construction paper and affixed to something else with glue. The true antithesis of artist is sitting here typing pathetically about the injustice of being a non-artist. Some tend to think I have a knack for writing....oh, yes, my sarcastic rantings are just the kind of art one wants to purchase....I don't think the gallery is the proper arena for my product. (Get ready for the drama) Oh, the self-loathing! I sense that my "dark years" are just beginning. I shall hide away in a remote crevice until I can discover an artistic talent worthy of notoriety.
Yes, Ethel and Jazzy, this was composed for you. And yes, I am smiling, dammit!

sidenote: I apologize to those of you reading that have absolutely no idea what this crap is all about. :0)

Calling All Inventors

To invent, you need a good imagination and a pile of junk. ~ Thomas Alva Edison

A friend of mine recently blogged about the beauty and splendor of Spring in our community. Yet another eloquently blogged about the gorgeous array of blossoms blooming in her yard thanks to the former owner who lovingly planted a variety of plants throughout the property. I, however, know that it is Spring in the South because it is that time of year when the county announces that it will collect non-traditional trash items. There is nothing that adds to the exquisiteness of our island in the Spring than the mounds of trash that are now piled up on the side of the road. Old lawn mowers, discarded furniture, antiquated appliances….you name it, it’s there. Considering the fact that there are always such mounds following a storm, I wonder from where it all comes. Is it reproducing back in the woods? Does erosion suddenly occur causing these relics to appear? Is there some malevolent force at work beyond the view from the road? At first, the mounds were almost unnoticeable. Gradually, the mounds have been increasing. This morning Daughter and I spotted an old mangled car and the pièce de résistance: a dilapidated travel trailer large enough for a family camping trip. I am giddy with excitement thinking about how these monstrosities will evolve over the course of the next few days. Spring….gotta love it.

Perfected to an Art Form

Hi. I’m looking for a man first name Hugh last name Jass. [Moe: ok has anyone seen a Hugh Jass? Hello, I’m looking for a Hugh Jass!] ~ Bart Simpson

I don’t know why, but ever since a birthday party I had in middle school, I have been in love with the art of prank phone calls. I was in 6th or 7^th grade and we spent an entire evening taking turns calling people with completely ignorant phrases. The laughter that ensued was the kind of laughter that comes from the core of one’s soul…the contagious kind….the kind that just won’t stop. For me, laughter like that is one of the best things in the world. I adore laughing and try desperately to laugh like that daily. It’s what gets me through life. One way I achieve such laughter is through prank phone calls. In college, there was the “May I speak to the Slug?” series to our Dookies (Carolina and Ethel will remember these fondly). In my early married life there was the visit from my brother and one of his college friends that involved calling one of those hair growth companies to inquire about the exact places it would make hair grow. Other calls of note were the series of calls Yo, L and I made during the kidnapping of Sponge Bob. Using the outside line at school to call the owner of Sponge Bob within the school was immense fun. Even though I know I am technically an adult, I still get a thrill from making these infantile phone calls. Last year I made a series of calls to S.C.(Slang Challenged)’s son. For several weeks I called him (she was an accomplice….I am not THAT deranged) pretending to be the woman who ended up with their lost cell phone (LONG story). Basically, S.C. got a new phone with the same number without telling the rest of her family. So, when I called saying that my boyfriend had given me the phone for Valentine’s Day and asked why the son’s number was programmed into my phone, it really caught them off guard. My accomplices (SC & Luscious) and I came extremely close to wet-your-pants laughter during this series of calls. SC would call her son from the school to make sure he was answering and then I would call from the cell. The things we do to let off some steam after teaching all day! We were ROLLING the day he actually yelled, “Who the F*** is this?!” into the phone. These shenanigans went on for a month or better….ending with revelation on April Fools Day. We even had her husband fooled. Priceless. One of my favorites was the one I made to a colleague at school leaving a voicemail pretending to be a white trash parent and threatening to come down to the “schoolhouse” and “open up a can of whoop-ass” on her for giving out her phone number causing drug dealers to call her begging for her medicine. We had the colleague going until I messed up and somehow didn’t hang up the cell phone properly. The wild laughter that Luscious and I created gave us away. The colleague let us listen to it and I must say (until the laughter), I was rather convincing. This phone call began a tradition that Luscious and I continue to this day. We are co-chairs of the annual science festival at our school. One of our responsibilities is to purchase all of the consumables for the event. This involves a trip to Walmart after a day of teaching. Where we live, this is a big deal because the Walmart is at least an hour away. Needless to say, we are already exhausted and basically get “slap happy”. We shop, eat out, sometimes have a drink, and always return LATE. During the long trip home, we devise prank voicemails to leave coworkers so they’ll have a nifty surprise on Monday morning. Last year we called the school finance officer and told her that Walmart confiscated the school credit card. I know there were others…oh, yeah, we called our assistants and said that we had ridden by Talon’s house and she came out and threw rocks at us. I can’t remember any others right now. Last night’s excursion was no exception. We made a total of four phone calls. This year’s were not my best work….probably because we didn’t have drinks this year (damn those points!). However, we still laughed and hopefully the recipients will enjoy a little humor on the Monday before Spring Break. Sorry, no details on these calls as the pranks have not been received, yet. Heh heh heh!

I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing!

Observations of overstressed rats may help explain why dieters so often fail and binge-eat instead. A combination of stress, deprivation and exposure to tempting food pushed the rats to overeat, according to two studies in the October issue of Behavioral Neuroscience. ~ Robert Preidt

I guess I am no better than a rat. My weekly ritual of binge eating following the Cult meeting has hit a new level. On my way home I had to stop for some ground turkey for dinner. As I passed the dairy case, a voice called out to me. It was the Nestle bunny beckoning to me...."Buy the chocolate milkshake drink! You have dieted all week, lost some weight, and you deserve it!" Who can resist the Nestle bunny? The thick chocolaty drink was divine! By the time I arrived home I was experiencing a magnificent sugar high. Absolutely delightful! As I began to prepare dinner (a bounty of pasta and meat sauce) I heard a disturbance in my refrigerator. At first I didn't recognize the sound, so I meandered over to the fridge and opened the door. Just as I thought: the baseball-sized peanut butter Easter egg that Hubby had bought a week ago was calling to me. Well, fearing that the peanut butter egg might go bad, I decided I needed to personally check it out. I didn't want my family to suffer from my poor cleaning habits and eat something that was foul. Let me tell you....the fourth I ate was wonderfully delicious. So was the jalapeno cheese dip with the baked Ritz crackers. The mound of sauce-drenched pasta was excellent as was the cheesy Texas toast. I was afraid of that egg again, so I had to take one more taste. Still delicious! My stomach is now bloated and sore. I haven't binged like this in a LONG time. It was incredibly decadent and enjoyable while it lasted....now I am going to go wallow somewhere. I am all about the occasional binge, but not so much a fan of the purge. Tomorrow begins the new week of the obsessive point calculations for another 7 days...until my post-Cult-meeting binge for next week!

Hello, My Name Is Kristin...

It is not heroin or cocaine that makes one an addict, it is the need to escape from a harsh reality. ~ Shirley Chisholm

In addition to my blog-writing addiction, I have developed a new "escape from (my) harsh reality". I was first introduced to this new addiction on my trip to Vegas....ok, sounds MUCH worse than it actually is! In fact, when I reveal what this addiction is, it is probably going to make Ethel and I sound like complete and utter nerds. On one of our flights Ethel had a puzzle book filled with grids containing numbers. In each row the numbers 1-9 can only appear once. In each column the numbers 1-9 can only appear once. AND in each of the 9 sets of 9 small boxes, the numbers 1-9 can only appear once. Welcome to the world of Sudoku! I watched Ethel work these puzzles like a fiend...erasing and writing, erasing and writing, erasing and writing. I was interested, but not enough to break down and do one. I was content with the Mary Higgins Clark in which I was engrossed (no, not mentioning the title since I don't want to embarass myself by the fact that the book is probably old and was read by everyone else ages ago...two words: GRAD SCHOOL! hey, give me a break...I haven't mentioned it in a bit!!). When Hubby came home last week, he had a newspaper crossword that he'd been solving. I picked it up and happened to flip it over. Lo and behold: a Sudoku puzzle! I thought I'd give it a shot. Well, after writing and erasing, and erasing and writing to the point that I had worn a hole in the paper, I decided to check one out on the Internet. MISTAKE! I found this spectacular site with millions (literally!) of puzzles on a variety of levels (easy, medium, hard, and evil). I have the option of working these puzzles online (saving the erasers on my pencils) or printing them out. Not only have I spent time each day working one (or more) of these puzzles, I have also shown Daughter how to do them. She now works one a day as well. My "drug" of choice is the evil (pronounced E - vil). I must admit, though, that I do at times cheat by clicking on the "How am I doing?" button on the page. But hey, I am a neophyte....I'll work my way up to avoiding the EASY button like those office freaks on those ads...Staples, is it?

Random Fury

We are having EVER so much fun! ~ unknown

It is an absolutely beautiful day. The sun is amazingly bright. The temperature is perfect. However, I am in a mood so foul that I cannot even fathom enjoying one single shred of it. I awoke earlier than I had wanted. Was it me or was it due to Son's determination to wake up everyone? I don't know which came first...me waking by my own free will or me waking due to his evil actions. He cranked the volume on every TV, turned on every light, and slammed his door repeatedly. He wasn't even frightened by the Joan-Crawford-esque witch that demanded him to stop. Then Finley needed to go out. No problem. I took her out, she did her thing, we came back in. I watched some TV and then decided I needed to get the children ready for Sunday School. Daughter did not want to go and due to the time change I didn't push it. Due to my PMS, every untidy part of the house (and believe me there are many) was magnified to epic proportions. I unloaded the dishwasher, reloaded the dishwasher, wiped counter tops, put Hubby's clothes in the dryer, folded some other wash, argued with Son about what to wear to Sunday School, worked on spots that Finley made on the floor yesterday while I was at a meeting for my summer employment (of course these spots weren't touched yesterday - the best I can hope for around here is for a white towel to be placed and left on the spot until both the towel and carpet reek of urine reminding me of how Adam Sandler handles bodily fluids in Big Daddy but only replacing the newspaper with the white towel!). In the midst of my obsessive compulsive cleaning, the dog decides to pee on the floor again. Perhaps she thinks I like cleaning up after her and was doing a good thing for me. Oh, how I wished for a shock collar at that moment. When I took Son to church, he asked when the deer from Christmas were not going to be in the yard anymore. Good question. It is April! So, when I returned from church delivery, I destroyed the handy work of my husband and removed the fallen deer (the wind had blown them over some time ago...was this a tribute to deer season perhaps?). I mistakenly thought that I would not have had to do this, but.....ANYWAY! As the morning has worn on, the voices in my head - which sound just like my own voice - began to make lists of all sorts of atrocities that have been committed by others, undoubtedly in an attempt to enrage me. After cleaning the toilet and the vanity, putting away some laundry, commanding Daughter to put her clothing AWAY (which, by the way, does not mean dumping it in some unseen location...IT MEANS HANG IT OR PUT IT IN THE DRAWERS), and trying to decide what would be a good breakfast choice (and deciding that even though the PMS alter-ego really wanted that chocolate doughnut, it was not worth the CULT points - I have yet to eat since NOTHING compared with the thought of that stupid doughnut), I have finally come upstairs to vent my frustrations. Hubby came up while I was writing, read what I had written (and that was only when I had made the Joan Crawford reference), and informed me that he was getting the dog out of here for a bit. Was it the threat he overheard to get rid of her (as if he had to overhear as I was screaming at the dog)? Was it my rantings about how the dog had peed all over the carpet yesterday while I was out? Yes, I bought the dog. But it just kinda rubbed me the wrong way this morning when the rest of the free world (ie my family) was contentedly wallowing around while I suffered from the compulsion to clean the filth of our home. Again, my problem. I plead fury by reason of PMS insanity. Is my work done? NO. Do I want the doughnut? YES. Am I still furious? NOT SO MUCH. Is that last nerve still raw? YES. Could I easily be pushed back to my earlier state of rage? DEFINITELY. Oh....frabjous day! Since it isn't quite noon, perhaps I can salvage some part of this day. I still need to clean the yard, sort through Son's drawers to remove the clothes that are too small or too torn, put away my laundry, do more laundry, clean out my car, DOES ANYONE HAVE A VALIUM?!