Today I get a birth announcement...about someone I DON'T EVEN KNOW!
Hello All!
Just passing on that Dean T's wife had her baby this morning! It's a boy, Andrew T. For all of you who don't remember (and I guess that would be most!), Dean was once one of us in the white hats!
So this guy...who I've never met...used to work in this office...had a baby...or rather, his wife had their baby.
WHY DO I CARE?
AND WHY SHOULD I NOT HUNT YOU DOWN AND BEAT THE LIVING SNOT OUT OF YOU for sending this to "ALL"????
Seriously...using restraint in your emailing would NOT be a BAD thing.
Don't make me block you as a spammer. (Now THERE'S and IDEA!)
Thursday, September 14, 2006
On God and grief
Brooke has taken the time to post this excerpt from "Tracks of a Fellow Struggler" by John Claypool. It's worth a read for anyone struggling with the question of faith and resignation.
My favorite part...
"It is not rebelliousness, then, but faith that keeps me from finding any promise down the road of unquestioning resignation. This approach is closer to pagan Stoicism than Christian humility. I have no choice but to submit to this event of death. Still, the questions remain, and I believe I will honor God by continuing to ask and seek and knock rather than resigning myself like a leaf or a rock."
Thank you Brooke!
My favorite part...
"It is not rebelliousness, then, but faith that keeps me from finding any promise down the road of unquestioning resignation. This approach is closer to pagan Stoicism than Christian humility. I have no choice but to submit to this event of death. Still, the questions remain, and I believe I will honor God by continuing to ask and seek and knock rather than resigning myself like a leaf or a rock."
Thank you Brooke!
Not right AT ALL
Come with me on a tour of Columbus Blue Jackets ticket prices...
LOWER BOWL
US $53.00 - US $150.00
GLASS SEATS
US $150.00
CENTER ICE LOUNGE
US $140.00
CLUB LEVEL
US $93.00
UPPER BOWL
US $16.00 - US $41.00
SKY TERRACE (Above Upper Bowl on West end of building)
US $25.00
Who do these guys think they are? The Detroit Red Wings? Good grief, their record last year was 35-43-4. They were third in their conference, which is a darn sight better than previous years when they couldn't BUY a win....But for these prices?!?! I just don't think so.
LOWER BOWL
US $53.00 - US $150.00
GLASS SEATS
US $150.00
CENTER ICE LOUNGE
US $140.00
CLUB LEVEL
US $93.00
UPPER BOWL
US $16.00 - US $41.00
SKY TERRACE (Above Upper Bowl on West end of building)
US $25.00
Who do these guys think they are? The Detroit Red Wings? Good grief, their record last year was 35-43-4. They were third in their conference, which is a darn sight better than previous years when they couldn't BUY a win....But for these prices?!?! I just don't think so.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Anger revisited
Going back and reviewing my archives, I found that this is about the time anger set in last year. So you'll be glad to know that I'm right on track as far as that goes. I really can't think of anything to say that I haven't said a million times before. I am not "resolved" in my grief. I don't think I'm even taking steps toward resolving my grief. But my archives say differently. It's a damn good thing I keep a blog...if only to self-diagnose and self-treat my own mental breakdowns.
Yes I'm angry...let me count the ways (with apologies to EBB)...
At people who complain about mere annoyances as though they are real problems...and expect me to agree.
At the rain.
At people who ask me how I'm doing. Really. How do you think I'm doing?
At my body...wash, rinse, repeat.
At my dead children...I mean, it was all under their control, right?
At happy mommies. I want to choke the living snot out of all of you (yes, I know you don't deserve it).
At my house.
At this acid indigestion I've got.
At the fact that Boogie won Big Brother All Stars.
At the rude Manager at Michael's who wouldn't give me my coupon off the regular price of a Thomas toy because it was already on sale and she didn't know how/want to override the register.
At myself and the fact that I can't, despite all my best efforts, write a shiney happy post on this blog.
I read another blog today that said, "I don't want this to turn into a grief journal," and I was immediately pissed off at that too. Why not? What's so wrong with grief journals? When your support network falls away and moves onto happy places and you are stuck in a dark dark place where there is only a pinpoint of light to guide you out...a grief journal can be salvation. Don't make me ashamed of it.
Last night, mid-rant at Steve, Sam said, "Mommy..." and I turned on him and snapped, "WHAT?!?!"
He put his hands on his hips in a frighteningly accurate imitation of yours truly and stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't have to yell at ME."
And so it goes in our household.
There have been a few things I've been mulling over that other people have said to me...along with a few things people have not said to me. But I fear that to say anything would only serve to unnecessarily feed the anger. If I don't pay it any attention and don't give it any nourishment, I am hoping it will grow too weak to control me anymore. I know it will if I just give it time. But I am growing weary of waiting.
And so it goes on this blog.
Yes I'm angry...let me count the ways (with apologies to EBB)...
At people who complain about mere annoyances as though they are real problems...and expect me to agree.
At the rain.
At people who ask me how I'm doing. Really. How do you think I'm doing?
At my body...wash, rinse, repeat.
At my dead children...I mean, it was all under their control, right?
At happy mommies. I want to choke the living snot out of all of you (yes, I know you don't deserve it).
At my house.
At this acid indigestion I've got.
At the fact that Boogie won Big Brother All Stars.
At the rude Manager at Michael's who wouldn't give me my coupon off the regular price of a Thomas toy because it was already on sale and she didn't know how/want to override the register.
At myself and the fact that I can't, despite all my best efforts, write a shiney happy post on this blog.
I read another blog today that said, "I don't want this to turn into a grief journal," and I was immediately pissed off at that too. Why not? What's so wrong with grief journals? When your support network falls away and moves onto happy places and you are stuck in a dark dark place where there is only a pinpoint of light to guide you out...a grief journal can be salvation. Don't make me ashamed of it.
Last night, mid-rant at Steve, Sam said, "Mommy..." and I turned on him and snapped, "WHAT?!?!"
He put his hands on his hips in a frighteningly accurate imitation of yours truly and stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't have to yell at ME."
And so it goes in our household.
There have been a few things I've been mulling over that other people have said to me...along with a few things people have not said to me. But I fear that to say anything would only serve to unnecessarily feed the anger. If I don't pay it any attention and don't give it any nourishment, I am hoping it will grow too weak to control me anymore. I know it will if I just give it time. But I am growing weary of waiting.
And so it goes on this blog.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
A roof!
Sorry for the poor picture quality. I took this picture this morning from the minivan in the rain with my new camera phone...So ALL conditions were unfavorable. But you can clearly see that we have what is starting to resemble a roof! Yee Haw!
Think...shingles by Friday...
Yes, it's raining. Yes, we have water IN our house. No, we're not going to talk about it.
Think...shingles by Friday...
Yes, it's raining. Yes, we have water IN our house. No, we're not going to talk about it.
Monday, September 11, 2006
James Patrick Leahy - New York Police Department, 6th Precinct
Lessons Learned Young-December 31, 2001, THE NEW YORK TIMES
James P. Leahy learned responsibility at a tragically early age. A New York City police officer, he was 13 and the eldest of five children when his father, a Parks and Recreation Department employee, was murdered while on duty at a city golf course.
Officer Leahy, 38, became the head of his family then and there, said Officer Tim Duffy, a colleague at the Sixth Precinct in Greenwich Village. His youngest sister, Danielle, describes James Leahy as the only father she knew, from the time she was a toddler until he walked her down the aisle.
Losing his father shaped Officer Leahy's devotion to his own family: his childhood sweetheart and wife, Marcela, and his sons, James Jr., 18, Danny, 13, and John, 6. To ensure his children's educations, he worked two part-time jobs, as a security guard at New York University and at a J. C. Penney store near his Staten Island home.
He coached his sons in football and was always on the sidelines for their Little League games. A die-hard Pittsburgh Steelers fan, Officer Leahy fulfilled a dream by taking his boys to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Ohio last summer (2000) for the induction of Lynn Swann, his favorite player.
JAMES LEAHY, 38, of New York, an officer working the New York Police Department's 6th Precinct, ``was always very unselfish, putting others first, and that's why he ran into Tower 1 on September 11th. He was trying to help the people,'' said his sister Michele Safatle. Leahy was told he didn't have to be in the building but took oxygen bottles and other supplies to firefighters anyway. "Jim would never consider what he did to be an act of heroism," said his brother, Arthur III. "He just took his love of people and wanting to help them seriously."-Copyright © 2001 The Associated Press
Halloween was a favorite holiday of James Leahy. He and his wife, Marcela, decorated their Staten Island house each year. Often, he would dress up to look like a prop on the lawn and jump out at unsuspecting trick-or-treaters. He would even don a costume and go house to house with his children, to the delight of James Jr., 17, Danny, 13, and John, 6.-New York Newsday Victim Database 10/18/2001
Perhaps Leahy, 38, enjoyed his children so much because his own father was murdered when he was just 13. As the eldest child, Leahy quickly became the man of the house, helping his mother with chores and tending to the other children, said his wife.
Leahy, an officer in the 6th Precinct, was working his usual shift in downtown Manhattan with his partner when they saw the first plane hit the buildings, his wife said.
At 9:35 a.m., she received a phone message from him. "I'm in the building. I'm OK. Tell the kids I'm OK. I'll call you later." When she heard the message, she panicked. "I called the precinct. They didn't even know they were in there," she said.
Later that night, his partner was found in a Brooklyn hospital. Tapes of radio contact with Leahy said he was carrying oxygen tanks up the floors. Marcela has heard the tapes and was surprised that he sounded so calm. "His last words to his partner were that there were more people upstairs and he was going up to help them," she said.
James and Marcela, who had dated since they were teenagers, were married 19 years. "I've known him since I was 11," she said. "That's why this is so hard. Everything in my life, he was there."
Police Officer James P. Leahy, 38, was appointed to the NYPD on January 13, 1992, and began his career on patrol in the 6 Precinct where he remained for his entire career. Although he was a high school football player and attended Walsh College in Ohio, his childhood ambition was to become a professional wrestler. The oldest of five children, PO Leahy became a surrogate dad to his four siblings when their father Arthur, a Parks Department employee, was killed in the line of duty during a robbery in 1975. He is survived by his wife Marcella; children Danny, James Jr., and John; mother Jeanette; sisters Danielle, Denise and Michele; and brother Arthur.-SPRING 3100, Commemorative Issue
And because James wouldn't want them forgotten...
The following officers were killed during the attacks on the World Trade Center, September 11, 2001, as they rushed to the assistance of Trade Center workers, visitors, and fellow officers:
New York City Police Department
Sergeant John Gerard Coughlin
Sergeant Michael Sean Curtin
Police Officer John D’Allara
Police Officer Vincent G. Danz
Police Officer Jerome Mark Patrick Dominguez
Police Officer Stephen Patrick Driscoll
Police Officer Mark Joseph Ellis
Police Officer Robert Fazio, Jr.
Sergeant Rodney C. Gillis
Police Officer Ronald Philip Kloepfer
Police Officer Thomas Michael Langone
Police Officer James Patrick Leahy
Police Officer Brian Grady McDonnell
Police Officer John William Perry
Police Officer Glen Kerrin Pettit
Detective Claude Daniel Richards
Sergeant Timothy A. Roy, Sr.
Police Officer Moira Ann Smith
Police Officer Ramon Suarez
Police Officer Paul Talty
Police Officer Santos Valentin, Jr.
Detective Joseph Vincent Vigiano
Police Officer Walter Edward Weaver
Port Authority Police Department NY/NJ
Police Officer Christopher Charles Amoroso
Police Officer Maurice Vincent Barry
Police Officer Liam Callahan
Lieutenant Robert D. Cirri
Police Officer Clinton Davis, Sr.
Police Officer Donald A. Foreman
Police Officer Gregg J. Froehner
Police Officer Thomas Edward Gorman
Police Officer Uhuru G. Houston
Police Officer George G. Howard
Police Officer Stephen Huczko, Jr.
Inspector Anthony P. Infante, Jr.
Police Officer Paul William Jurgens
Sergeant Robert Michael Kaulfers
Police Officer Paul Laszczynski
Police Officer David Prudencio Lemagne
Police Officer John J. Lennon, Jr.
Police Officer John Dennis Levi
Police Officer James Francis Lynch
Captain Kathy Nancy Mazza
Police Officer Donald James McIntyre
Police Officer Walter Arthur McNeil
Superintendent Ferdinand V. Morrone
Police Officer Joseph M. Navas
Police Officer James A. Nelson
Police Officer Alfonse J. Niedermeyer III
Police Officer James Wendell Parham
Police Officer Dominick Pezzulo
Police Officer Bruce Albert Reynolds
Police Officer Antonio J. Rodrigues
Police Officer Richard Rodriguez
Chief James A. Romito
Police Officer John P. Skala
Police Officer Walwyn Wellington Stuart, Jr.
Police Officer Kenneth Francis Tietjen
Police Officer Nathaniel Webb
Police Officer Michael T. Wholey
---------------------------------------
James...the cousin of a friend...who was by all accounts, an amazing son, brother, cousin, husband, father, and uncle.
A good police officer.
A hero.
---------------------------------------
Mike...if you ever happen upon this blog...drop me a line...I would love to hear from you again.
(I didn't want to participate in an online memorial project though I did take inspiration from that idea.)
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Gonna take some getting used to
Steve is upstairs. UPSTAIRS! It is unbelievable that this dream that hatched five years ago when we moved in is now becoming a reality. He can't believe it either. That's why he climbs up there every chance he gets, even though nothing has changed since yesterday, to check it out. I know what he's thinking in his head...because I'm thinking similar things. Here is where the closet will be...here is where the bathroom will be...etc...etc.
It's really going to take some getting used to...hearing footsteps up above though. For the last five years we've been one-floor-living-and-loving. With the un-usability of the previous upstairs over just one third of the house, we didn't spend much time up there, opting to use the space mostly for storage. Our attempts to fill the existing two rooms with kids didn't go so well, so the "stuff" accumulated and gathered dust (and was, in its unused state, apparently a great receptacle for cat puke).
Which leads me to my current thought process. Not the cat puke...the unused state business. I'm not sure I'm ready to expand to two whole floors. Not only do I not have anybody to fill in the space with, but it means there will be more space between Steve and Sam and I. The mere thought brings tears to my eyes. You'd think I was contemplating Sam going off to college...not just his own bedroom. I won't be far away...and it's not like I think this new room is going to magically make him sleep in his own bed (though I think Steve is hoping)...so what's the big deal?
The big deal is that I just don't need anything to emphasize the emptiness right now. I convinced myself that I could distract myself with fixtures and flooring. And I have been. But now that I can "see it" happening, I wonder about the finished product. Big and empty. Not totally empty...just bigger than we need. And it doesn't help that everyone keeps saying, "Well, you'll need that extra room if you decide to have more kids." It's like they're saying, "That house is too big for just the three of you." And they're right.
Maybe it's not that I have to get used to the footsteps overhead.
Maybe it's that I have to get used to the lack of footsteps.
It's really going to take some getting used to...hearing footsteps up above though. For the last five years we've been one-floor-living-and-loving. With the un-usability of the previous upstairs over just one third of the house, we didn't spend much time up there, opting to use the space mostly for storage. Our attempts to fill the existing two rooms with kids didn't go so well, so the "stuff" accumulated and gathered dust (and was, in its unused state, apparently a great receptacle for cat puke).
Which leads me to my current thought process. Not the cat puke...the unused state business. I'm not sure I'm ready to expand to two whole floors. Not only do I not have anybody to fill in the space with, but it means there will be more space between Steve and Sam and I. The mere thought brings tears to my eyes. You'd think I was contemplating Sam going off to college...not just his own bedroom. I won't be far away...and it's not like I think this new room is going to magically make him sleep in his own bed (though I think Steve is hoping)...so what's the big deal?
The big deal is that I just don't need anything to emphasize the emptiness right now. I convinced myself that I could distract myself with fixtures and flooring. And I have been. But now that I can "see it" happening, I wonder about the finished product. Big and empty. Not totally empty...just bigger than we need. And it doesn't help that everyone keeps saying, "Well, you'll need that extra room if you decide to have more kids." It's like they're saying, "That house is too big for just the three of you." And they're right.
Maybe it's not that I have to get used to the footsteps overhead.
Maybe it's that I have to get used to the lack of footsteps.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
Marking time for (a year and) four months.
Last year at this time I made a list of what I've been doing other than grieving...and it seems like a good way to pass this day as well.
~Still doing animal rescue...though slightly scaled back due to gas prices.
~Still crafting...though less for charity and more for gifts for friends with new babies.
~Still mystery shopping...this weekend a "conflict diamonds" mystery shop. Sparkly things and making managers uncomfortable...this is fun stuff!
~Still volunteering with Memories of Mariam...making free memorial items...mother's bracelets and commemorative certificates.
~Not so much cleaning. Lots of playing. Trying not to lose my mind in the mess that is my house.
~Watching the destruction/construction.
~Working on a NILMDTS database. I also just signed up to be a parent coordinator to promote the organization.
~Talking to my June 2002 mommy friends about a planned vacation in October. I finally get to meet them! I've only met one so far so this is exciting for me, since we've known each other for five years already!
~Trying to figure out how to get the airport card to work in our old iMac.
~Planning my new flower garden...which will be extensively worked on as soon as they stop driving trucks around and over the area I plan to put it.
~Shopping for all things house-related.
~Enlisting the help of friends and coworkers to find someone to give Travis' baby stuff to...someone far enough removed from us that we won't ever run into them.
~Trying to work...though not doing a very good job at it.
~Gaining weight and hating my body.
Four months ago our world fell apart...again.
Instead of excitedly anticipating the arrival of our son on September 23rd, we are ordering another headstone.
Sometimes life seems unbelievably cruel.
~Still doing animal rescue...though slightly scaled back due to gas prices.
~Still crafting...though less for charity and more for gifts for friends with new babies.
~Still mystery shopping...this weekend a "conflict diamonds" mystery shop. Sparkly things and making managers uncomfortable...this is fun stuff!
~Still volunteering with Memories of Mariam...making free memorial items...mother's bracelets and commemorative certificates.
~Not so much cleaning. Lots of playing. Trying not to lose my mind in the mess that is my house.
~Watching the destruction/construction.
~Working on a NILMDTS database. I also just signed up to be a parent coordinator to promote the organization.
~Talking to my June 2002 mommy friends about a planned vacation in October. I finally get to meet them! I've only met one so far so this is exciting for me, since we've known each other for five years already!
~Trying to figure out how to get the airport card to work in our old iMac.
~Planning my new flower garden...which will be extensively worked on as soon as they stop driving trucks around and over the area I plan to put it.
~Shopping for all things house-related.
~Enlisting the help of friends and coworkers to find someone to give Travis' baby stuff to...someone far enough removed from us that we won't ever run into them.
~Trying to work...though not doing a very good job at it.
~Gaining weight and hating my body.
Four months ago our world fell apart...again.
Instead of excitedly anticipating the arrival of our son on September 23rd, we are ordering another headstone.
Sometimes life seems unbelievably cruel.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Today
I'm going for the lighthearted stuff today because I have a headache and I know I'm going to feel like crap tomorrow through Monday (and probably blog sad stuff).
Today I cleaned the gunk out of my computer mouse and it has made all the difference. Two thoughts...(1)What IS that stuff and how did it get in there? and (2)Why didn't I do this sooner?
Today I am paying for the overindulgence in nuts yesterday. Note to self...find some self control...this is not worth it.
Today is payday! And we got our escrow refund from our old mortgage company! Money, money, money...
Today I realized that my failure to pay for tracking on a jewelry return to Limoges Jewelry will probably result in no exchange or refund. $89 lost in the mail. God, I'm an idiot. But I still hold the q-tip who works at the local post office partly responsible...since he didn't even OFFER me any sort of tracking or insurance. grrrr
Today (well, actually yesterday, but you're not keeping track, are you?) I received a lovely email from a lovely woman who has been reading this blog. The kindness of strangers (especially women) always brings tears to my eyes. I promise I will return your email, M, as soon as I get past this week of funk.
Today FedEx tried to deliver my new cell phone (phone, camera, MP3 player, robot...I'm kidding about the robot thing...but it does all that other stuff which I think is way cool!). Unfortunately, the FedEx guy wouldn't accept a signature from someone on my house work crew, so I have to wait another day so that I can sign the appropriate door tag and leave it for him to just drop off on my porch (if I still have a porch...which I'm not sure I do).
Today I spent all day at work reading funny things and trying to avoid pregnancy and baby-related things. My mood would qualify as 'good' if I could just get rid of this dang headache.
Today I worked on volunteer stuff for Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. I forgot to mention that I've joined their effort in a Parent Coordinator capacity. I'm also doing some data entry work. Over 900 professional photographers in the US, Canada, and several other countries. All because of the dedication and hard work of a handful of people who had an idea. Amazing. I am inspired.
Today I realized I don't have any yarn to make my friend Kathi a baby gift. I have blue...she definitely needs pink for her little girl baby. What to do...what to do... Shop, of course! Good thing the weekend is just around the corner (and it's a weekend after a payday too!).
Today I concluded that I need new shoes. I am currently nursing an aggravated ankle from too much high heel wearing at work...so I am wearing completely inappropriate flip flops. I hope I don't get called in to court.
Today I couldn't find the doppler. It's not for me...no way...no how. It's for a friend. I actually sent it to her a while ago and she sent it back recently though she didn't really need to and I lost it in the great house funkwash of 2006. So now I need to find it so I can send it back to her again. But I don't know where we put it. Yeah, just what I want to do...spend time looking for a doppler in my pit of a house. Somehow I see myself portrayed by Meryl Streep in this sad drama. But that could just be because the face recognizer thing said I look like her (which I totally do not).
Tomorrow's another day. Can I just skip it? Or maybe I'll drink my way through it.
Cheers!
Today I cleaned the gunk out of my computer mouse and it has made all the difference. Two thoughts...(1)What IS that stuff and how did it get in there? and (2)Why didn't I do this sooner?
Today I am paying for the overindulgence in nuts yesterday. Note to self...find some self control...this is not worth it.
Today is payday! And we got our escrow refund from our old mortgage company! Money, money, money...
Today I realized that my failure to pay for tracking on a jewelry return to Limoges Jewelry will probably result in no exchange or refund. $89 lost in the mail. God, I'm an idiot. But I still hold the q-tip who works at the local post office partly responsible...since he didn't even OFFER me any sort of tracking or insurance. grrrr
Today (well, actually yesterday, but you're not keeping track, are you?) I received a lovely email from a lovely woman who has been reading this blog. The kindness of strangers (especially women) always brings tears to my eyes. I promise I will return your email, M, as soon as I get past this week of funk.
Today FedEx tried to deliver my new cell phone (phone, camera, MP3 player, robot...I'm kidding about the robot thing...but it does all that other stuff which I think is way cool!). Unfortunately, the FedEx guy wouldn't accept a signature from someone on my house work crew, so I have to wait another day so that I can sign the appropriate door tag and leave it for him to just drop off on my porch (if I still have a porch...which I'm not sure I do).
Today I spent all day at work reading funny things and trying to avoid pregnancy and baby-related things. My mood would qualify as 'good' if I could just get rid of this dang headache.
Today I worked on volunteer stuff for Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. I forgot to mention that I've joined their effort in a Parent Coordinator capacity. I'm also doing some data entry work. Over 900 professional photographers in the US, Canada, and several other countries. All because of the dedication and hard work of a handful of people who had an idea. Amazing. I am inspired.
Today I realized I don't have any yarn to make my friend Kathi a baby gift. I have blue...she definitely needs pink for her little girl baby. What to do...what to do... Shop, of course! Good thing the weekend is just around the corner (and it's a weekend after a payday too!).
Today I concluded that I need new shoes. I am currently nursing an aggravated ankle from too much high heel wearing at work...so I am wearing completely inappropriate flip flops. I hope I don't get called in to court.
Today I couldn't find the doppler. It's not for me...no way...no how. It's for a friend. I actually sent it to her a while ago and she sent it back recently though she didn't really need to and I lost it in the great house funkwash of 2006. So now I need to find it so I can send it back to her again. But I don't know where we put it. Yeah, just what I want to do...spend time looking for a doppler in my pit of a house. Somehow I see myself portrayed by Meryl Streep in this sad drama. But that could just be because the face recognizer thing said I look like her (which I totally do not).
Tomorrow's another day. Can I just skip it? Or maybe I'll drink my way through it.
Cheers!
Make me giggle
Independent fighter for Ohio families.
This is an actual ad tagline for an Ohio Republican candidate for Senator.
"Independent" IS underlined in the actual ad.
Can anyone else see the humor in this?
This is an actual ad tagline for an Ohio Republican candidate for Senator.
"Independent" IS underlined in the actual ad.
Can anyone else see the humor in this?
Hilarious!
I totally stole this off another blog. But it made me laugh until I cried, so I HAD to share it with you all. Enjoy!
Hey Joe
I have done it...perfected the absolute best way to drive my husband insane. It's true. It took me twelve years of marriage, but I think I've finally come up with the one thing that might actually drive him around the bend. No, it's not my poor housekeeping skills. No, it's not killing off two of our kids in utero. No, it's not suggesting that we forget our bad luck and attempt to remodel our house. So...What is it, you ask? I know, I know, I know...the suspense is killing you.
The key to my husband's mental in/stability? Have Sam call Daddy, "Joe."
No, I'm not kidding. Here's the story...
Sam, of the whiny, "Moooommmmyyyyy" and "Daaaaadddddyyyy" fame, was trying to sort out the incredible nonsense of middle names last night. I mean, really...two names? Why? I will have to look that up.
So anyway...
Sam said, in his best mommy imitation voice (and while wagging his index finger in the general direction of his father), "Stephen Charles...you'd better..."
I interjected with, "No, YOU'RE Samuel Charles...he's Stephen Joseph."
Fast forward later into the night. "Daaadddyyyyy..."
Steve looks at him and says, in all seriousness, "Stop. Let's try something new. Let's try you starting sentences without calling me Daddy first in that whiney little voice of yourse."
I couldn't help it. I had to ask.
"So what SHOULD he call you?"
Hence...Joe was born. I guess you had to be there. We were reduced to a fit of giggles. Steve was not so amused.
As the night wore on, every time Sam would whine for Daddy, I would pop up and correct him by saying, "Joe." And Sam would politely oblige. After only a few times, Steve looked at me and said, "Would you STOP that?" hehehe
The thing is, whenever Sam says, "Joe," there isn't even a trace of a whine in his voice because he is so tickled with the whole idea. So I'm thinking Steve should just change his name to Joe. I won't have to listen to the whine...and Steve will go crazy. It's a win-win for me.
The key to my husband's mental in/stability? Have Sam call Daddy, "Joe."
No, I'm not kidding. Here's the story...
Sam, of the whiny, "Moooommmmyyyyy" and "Daaaaadddddyyyy" fame, was trying to sort out the incredible nonsense of middle names last night. I mean, really...two names? Why? I will have to look that up.
So anyway...
Sam said, in his best mommy imitation voice (and while wagging his index finger in the general direction of his father), "Stephen Charles...you'd better..."
I interjected with, "No, YOU'RE Samuel Charles...he's Stephen Joseph."
Fast forward later into the night. "Daaadddyyyyy..."
Steve looks at him and says, in all seriousness, "Stop. Let's try something new. Let's try you starting sentences without calling me Daddy first in that whiney little voice of yourse."
I couldn't help it. I had to ask.
"So what SHOULD he call you?"
Hence...Joe was born. I guess you had to be there. We were reduced to a fit of giggles. Steve was not so amused.
As the night wore on, every time Sam would whine for Daddy, I would pop up and correct him by saying, "Joe." And Sam would politely oblige. After only a few times, Steve looked at me and said, "Would you STOP that?" hehehe
The thing is, whenever Sam says, "Joe," there isn't even a trace of a whine in his voice because he is so tickled with the whole idea. So I'm thinking Steve should just change his name to Joe. I won't have to listen to the whine...and Steve will go crazy. It's a win-win for me.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Google searches and other statistics
If you found me by searching for "23 weeks pregnant" - I'm sorry. Do not read anymore of my blog. It will only serve to scare you. Click the back arrow or the little X in the upper right hand corner.
If you found me by searching for "making a toast to Poe at his graveside" - Wha? Seriously...what?
If you're checking my blog at work - Shame on you! (You'll never get tenure/a promotion this way! You know who you are.)
If you're visiting for a length of time shorter than a minute - Why are you bothering? Are you a super speed reader?
If you're visiting for a length of time longer than a half hour - Don't. It will only serve to depress or annoy you.
If you found me by searching for "making a toast to Poe at his graveside" - Wha? Seriously...what?
If you're checking my blog at work - Shame on you! (You'll never get tenure/a promotion this way! You know who you are.)
If you're visiting for a length of time shorter than a minute - Why are you bothering? Are you a super speed reader?
If you're visiting for a length of time longer than a half hour - Don't. It will only serve to depress or annoy you.
To the edge and back...to the edge and back...ad nauseum...ad infinitum
I have developed a whole other cycle. There is my normal PMS cycle of course. And now there is a cycle the revolves around the 7th through the 11th every month.
I know it's not healthy to mark these monthly "anniversaries," but I seem to do it unconsciously even when I try not to. Round about the 5th of every month I start to become unreasonable...and screechy.
Of course it doesn't help that I have the king motor-mouth as a son and I always have to mediate (stupid) disputes between he and my darling husband. But you'd think I could find a way to break the cycle by now.
--------------------------------------
Pregnancy items I lent to friends are slowly making their way back to me. It's just sad and pathetic that I have to open each box.
If I didn't have control issues, I would just tell people to do whatever they want with them. That would make it so much easier. I think I'm going to try it.
If you have anything of mine that is pregnancy related...please consider it yours from this point forward. No need to return anything, regardless of how much it might fetch on eBay. If you want to pay me back, buy me some chocolate...or wine...or both.
Thank you very much.
--------------------------------------
Arranging "alone time" with the husband is more like planning the invasion of a small country. It takes tactical know-how that neither Steve nor I have the energy for to get the four-year-old out of our hair long enough to do...any good (what were you thinking? you have such a dirty mind!). So when we're both "in the mood" and are able to devise a game plan to get the munchkin to sleep, it's a very good (and rare) thing.
Said munchkin has, however unwittingly, devised the all-time winning-est gambit in this contest. He looks at us all innocent with those big blue eyes and says, "But I want you to come play with me...I don't want to play all by myself anymore." That's it...game over. We both agree, "This sucks," and go play with the kid. All thoughts of "alone time" completely blasted out of your skull for at least two days.
--------------------------------------
She said to me, in that all-too-sure, all-too-happy voice, "So what's new with you? You obviously had your baby since it's been years since I've talked to you."
I had to think...
Which baby is she talking about? It can't possibly be that someone doesn't know Alex died? Can it? But I don't think she even knew about Travis?
All I could stammer was, "uh...no."
(pause)
"Oh God, I'm sorry...uhhh...let's get to business then...I'm so sorry," she said...almost in tears herself.
I tried to talk. But even after all this time, I started to cry for my baby boy. My sweet Alex.
I finally said, with a half laugh, "Boy, that took me by surprise."
She repeated how sorry she was.
I started talking business and tried not to cry.
--------------------------------------
I finally made a call about donating our unused crib mattress and bedding set. The mattress was purchased for Alex and the bedding set was purchased even before we knew we would try for Travis (I can't pass up a good clearance sale for a 'maybe some day'. Now? Now I could probably walk right by without so much as a finger twitch in the direction of my credit card).
It seems right to get them out of our house.
Sad. But right.
--------------------------------------
I perused an old message board I used to frequent and was surprised to find how many women had stillborn children. What shocked me was the seemingly easy way in which they seemed to have moved on. What is wrong with me that I can't be like that? Why do I have to obsess over what cannot be?
--------------------------------------
Today I received Save the Children's Inaugural newsletter, Children in Emergencies and Crises
In Israel, Save the Children is working through a local partner to address the psychosocial support needs of children who witnessed violence and are exposed to great risk. One Save the Children partner created and distributed 4,000 household activity kits to children and their families in Nazareth, Haifa and surrounding villages. The kits offer a respite from the violence, stress and anxiety that children and adults experience. Save the Children also has been asked to support work with local partners addressing child trauma in northern Israel.
--------------------------------------
It's sad to lose a child...two children. But there is something to be said for perspective. I've got one kid...and a damn good one at that. I really need to get a grip.
I know it's not healthy to mark these monthly "anniversaries," but I seem to do it unconsciously even when I try not to. Round about the 5th of every month I start to become unreasonable...and screechy.
Of course it doesn't help that I have the king motor-mouth as a son and I always have to mediate (stupid) disputes between he and my darling husband. But you'd think I could find a way to break the cycle by now.
--------------------------------------
Pregnancy items I lent to friends are slowly making their way back to me. It's just sad and pathetic that I have to open each box.
If I didn't have control issues, I would just tell people to do whatever they want with them. That would make it so much easier. I think I'm going to try it.
If you have anything of mine that is pregnancy related...please consider it yours from this point forward. No need to return anything, regardless of how much it might fetch on eBay. If you want to pay me back, buy me some chocolate...or wine...or both.
Thank you very much.
--------------------------------------
Arranging "alone time" with the husband is more like planning the invasion of a small country. It takes tactical know-how that neither Steve nor I have the energy for to get the four-year-old out of our hair long enough to do...any good (what were you thinking? you have such a dirty mind!). So when we're both "in the mood" and are able to devise a game plan to get the munchkin to sleep, it's a very good (and rare) thing.
Said munchkin has, however unwittingly, devised the all-time winning-est gambit in this contest. He looks at us all innocent with those big blue eyes and says, "But I want you to come play with me...I don't want to play all by myself anymore." That's it...game over. We both agree, "This sucks," and go play with the kid. All thoughts of "alone time" completely blasted out of your skull for at least two days.
--------------------------------------
She said to me, in that all-too-sure, all-too-happy voice, "So what's new with you? You obviously had your baby since it's been years since I've talked to you."
I had to think...
Which baby is she talking about? It can't possibly be that someone doesn't know Alex died? Can it? But I don't think she even knew about Travis?
All I could stammer was, "uh...no."
(pause)
"Oh God, I'm sorry...uhhh...let's get to business then...I'm so sorry," she said...almost in tears herself.
I tried to talk. But even after all this time, I started to cry for my baby boy. My sweet Alex.
I finally said, with a half laugh, "Boy, that took me by surprise."
She repeated how sorry she was.
I started talking business and tried not to cry.
--------------------------------------
I finally made a call about donating our unused crib mattress and bedding set. The mattress was purchased for Alex and the bedding set was purchased even before we knew we would try for Travis (I can't pass up a good clearance sale for a 'maybe some day'. Now? Now I could probably walk right by without so much as a finger twitch in the direction of my credit card).
It seems right to get them out of our house.
Sad. But right.
--------------------------------------
I perused an old message board I used to frequent and was surprised to find how many women had stillborn children. What shocked me was the seemingly easy way in which they seemed to have moved on. What is wrong with me that I can't be like that? Why do I have to obsess over what cannot be?
--------------------------------------
Today I received Save the Children's Inaugural newsletter, Children in Emergencies and Crises
In Israel, Save the Children is working through a local partner to address the psychosocial support needs of children who witnessed violence and are exposed to great risk. One Save the Children partner created and distributed 4,000 household activity kits to children and their families in Nazareth, Haifa and surrounding villages. The kits offer a respite from the violence, stress and anxiety that children and adults experience. Save the Children also has been asked to support work with local partners addressing child trauma in northern Israel.
--------------------------------------
It's sad to lose a child...two children. But there is something to be said for perspective. I've got one kid...and a damn good one at that. I really need to get a grip.
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