Category Archives: housewifery

gird

Hi everyone! Long time. Please join me at the soapbox.

Gird up your pocketbooks, people. If you’re not debt-free, get that way, and get an emergency fund in place.

Everything’s about to get really expensive when the taxes go up drastically in January and all the ObamaCare regulations roll in on the businesses you work for and buy from (some already have, and companies have already stopped hiring full-time workers so they don’t have to pay the massive ObamaCare tax of being required by the government to buy health insurance for their employees), and the less debt you have, the better you’ll be able to deal with it!

We’ve been working through Dave Ramsey‘s baby steps since May 2011, and you should too. We’re almost done with our emergency fund, and then the real fun starts. We haven’t had any non-mortgage debt since March — no car payments, student loans, credit cards. We only have the mortgage. How much money could you save every month if you bought cars only with cash, paid off your student loans and credit cards, and quit buying things on credit? We have a significant amount per month more now that we’re out of debt, and we’re putting almost all of it into savings. After the emergency fund is in place, we will start chucking a ton at retirement and college funds, and the rest will go toward paying off our house. Can you imagine not having a mortgage? Can you imagine having that extra thousand, 2K, 3K a month? I can (for us it’s $1200). That’s when the real fun starts. That’s when you get to take big vacations and buy stupid things (only with cash, though!), and give a lot more to charity (real charity, not prison-enforced “charity” that you pay to the IRS), as long as it’s in the budget.

Eat beans & rice and cut out the luxuries (including eating out, alcohol — really, look at your alcohol expenditures and see how much money you’d save if you cut that out, tobacco, expensive clothes), and GET ON A BUDGET. Frank and I each still have an allowance. We each get a small amount every month that we can spend on anything we want. And that’s all. We don’t say, “Oh, I really want this, though, and it’s only $30, and we have $30, so I’ll just buy it.” If I don’t have enough in my allowance right now, I wait until I have enough saved up (we carry balances forward month-to-month, and I just make sure I mark in the budget that the full allowance amount was spent). It’s frustrating when I want something *right now* but it’s necessary. I live in a 1st-world country, so it’s all luxury. I’m not suffering if I have to wait until next month to buy the next Harry Potter book for my Kindle or wait two months to buy my Big Shot. We started with the allowance system back in 2007 when we realized that we weren’t making any headway with our finances, and that’s when everything started turning around. We also take 10% from any extra money (bonuses, royalty checks, etc.) that happens our way, and we put that in our “fun money” fund. We use that for eating out and non-fancy vacations, and if we don’t have money in our fun money fund, we don’t eat out, I don’t make sushi, and we don’t go anywhere that isn’t free. We have a small amount budgeted for vacation savings each month — yes, this is a luxury, but we need to visit family every couple of years, so we budget that. We also budget a small amount for Christmas savings each month so we don’t get hit with the whole thing in December — and it is a small budget. We don’t buy a lot of gifts for each other or for other people right now. It’s not in the budget. We occasionally splurge (for Buttercup’s birthday, we bought her a doll house), but only after both approving the splurge and putting it in the budget. Yes, we get each other’s permission to spend money that isn’t budgeted, because we’re married.

Set a limit for yourselves on money you get to blow, and you have a lot more money for the more important things, like life insurance, gas, saving for your next car (we’re about to save for a minivan so that when the new baby comes, we’ll have a nice used van for me to haul the kids around in), and groceries — which are about to get even more expensive. I’ve seen my grocery prices at least double in the last 4 years, and I expect them to skyrocket when we hit the fiscal cliff, which is coming, and it’s not racism telling you that, it’s math. January should be fun and/or horrific for everyone, especially people dealing with debt payments they can’t afford.

And teach your kids about living on a budget so perhaps the next gen of politicians can understand the importance of not spending more than you make and of saving money. And that people will vote for fiscally sane politicians in the future.

Tour of the new house part 1

We’ve been here almost two months now, and it occurs to me that y’all haven’t even seen it! So I’ll take you on a little tour. I took all of these pics the day we closed and got keys, which is also the day before the movers brought all our stuff over from the rent house. I’ll also point out all the updates we’ll be doing (a little at a time so we can afford it). It’s a thirty-year-old house, and we think the extension and the wood laminate floors and the carpet are the only updates that were ever made.

This is the entryway. While I do feel a little old and wise with clouded eyes these days, I am not yet ready for the granny light. So that’ll be going away. Also, I want to either paint or replace the closet door (actually every door in the house) and paint the walls (actually, every wall in the house). But check out the peep hole. That is something I will be keeping in its as-is state. It’s like they always knew a really short person would live here, and it is perfectly SarahK-height.

Off the entryway, we have the ridiculously large dining room. It’s a great size, actually. Fits all the dining furniture my in-laws gave us and has a spot for the piano as well. I like the light fixture in here okay, but I’m going to move it elsewhere (either the guest room or the entryway) and put a chandelier over the table. Also, do you see the light switches and baseboards? They’re beige, and I hate that, so those will be going white soon, and the walls will be going NOT white. You can’t see the miniblinds, but they’re your basic metal, and they’re mauve. Mauve. At least we have a granny theme going, right?

Here’s the view from the kitchen, looking back toward the entryway.

The diningroom flows into the kitchen, which is workable for now. Which is to say that we’ll save for several years and then remodel the whole thing to get me my dream kitchen. There’s plenty of space in the dining room, so I can take over some of that to expand a little, or the little reading nook (which you can see at the other end of the kitchen) can become part of the kitchen. Lots of options. But for now, I have enough cabinet space, though I’d really love to have more counter space. The light fixture overhead is okay and has to be a hundred times better than the fluorescent lights they apparently replaced. The light over the sink is embossed with roses, so. Well. I’m not crazy about the ceramic stovetop–the one at our rent house was great, but this one scratches easily and isn’t easy to clean. The sink is insanely shallow, and I’m of two minds about that–on the one hand, I can’t let dishes stay in the sink, or I’m putting them on the counter after about three dishes, and on the other hand, I can’t wash anything without splashing water all over the floor and behind the sink. I would like new cabinet facing, or maybe just to paint what’s there.

Here you can see the small wall better.

I didn’t realize until I was baking something in the oven that the oven is pretty runty. I might later decide to replace the microwave with a second oven and put a microwave above the stove or something. We just got the deposits from our rent house back, so we’ll be getting a new refrigerator with that money. It kinda sucks, though, because I measured everything, and we’re going to have to get a counterdepth fridge, and those have less space and cost several hundreds more. But we will get to put the one that came with the house in the garage, and I can’t tell y’all how excited I am about having two fridges. TWO! After the apartment-sized fridge of the rent house, it’ll be like upgrading from the little Fisher Price house to the Barbie dream house. I can have an entire fridge devoted to pickles!

I love the brick behind the sink, and I think the thing hanging over it is a window from a very old door. Love that too.

And I’m sure y’all noticed this atrocity:

That’s right, peepies. The last remaining cottages-hearts-baskets-roses wallpaper is pasted to my kitchen walls. Maroon, mauve, beige, and country blue, mmm baby. I don’t know if I can get rid of something so current.

Next I’ll show you the livingroom, reading nook, and gameroom.

Taunted UPDATED

Ok, so my hammock taunts me. Absolutely taunts me. It knows that I retire today, and it most certainly knows that I plan to spend at least a little bit of every day lying in it reading my Kindle, sipping fresh-made veggie juice (I’m a boring excuse for a leisurely housewife, I know), yelling at the dog, etc.

So my hammock stand arrived Wednesday (thank you, bikermommy, for the Amazon certificate that bought it), and I assembled it Wednesday night after our Bible study group left. It took about ten minutes, because it’s the easiest assembly ever. So Frank came out to help me, and I was putting the S-hooks in each end of the stand. I asked him to go get the hammock from the garage. He brought it back, and when I went to hang it… the chains are too short, and my hammock doesn’t reach to both ends! I was sure I would be testing out ye olde trusty hammock before I went to bed Wednesday night… you know, to prepare myself for how awesome my afternoons will be.

So I need my extension chains. I have them, you know. In a box. In the garage. I went out and checked all the boxes. My boxes are labeled in detail. If there is a screwdriver in the box, it says so on the outside. Screwdriver (phillips). Dryer cord. Vise grip. 5/8″ wrench. (Ok, not as detailed as to tell the size of the wrench, but you get the picture.)

Naturally, none of the garage boxes is labeled with “hammock chains,” even though I clearly remember labeling a box with hammock chains. I know I did it.

Which means that I have to unpack the garage boxes this weekend so my hammock is available to me on Monday. If I get all the way through the boxes with no hammock chains, I may have to go back to work. Or Home Depot, I don’t know.

UPDATE: The chains have been located. By accident, really. I was scanning my gameroom boxes for something else, and there with my softball glove were the hammock chains.

Six days

Including today. Then I’m retired! Here’s a list of some of the things I plan to do during my retirement (in no particular order):

Write novels.
Cook.
Clean.
Read.
A lot.
Hang out in my hammock with my Kindle.
A lot.
Walk the dog.
Exercise.
Get in shape.
Spend a lot more time on the IMAO/mm/SRM blog empire.
Blog.
A lot.
Make t-shirts, including that one I promised Tracey.
Scrapbook decades of pictures and movie stubs and such.
Bead. I like to bead. I apologize.
Hike on weekends w/ my sweetie.
Study the Bible more.
Hopefully a lot.
Take care of the house.
Play.
A lot.

what is a candle lover to do?

So I’m thinking about battery operated candles. Here’s why. Y’all know how much I love my candles. I burned so many candles in the last year (just in case I couldn’t take my bins of candles to Idaho with me), and I still had two bins left over (they did get to come to Boise, in case you were wondering). Loved every minute of burning those candles, too. And you know, I’m not even sure it’s the smell. Don’t get me wrong, I *love* the smell of candles. Especially the ginger peach ones from Pier One and all of the peach-scented ones from Target. But some days the smell doesn’t even play into it for me. Sometimes it’s the flame, flickering just over the rim of the candle. That always makes me smile. Other times, it is just the soft glow inside a candle that has guttered a bit so the flame doesn’t reach the rim of the candle. I love to walk through a room and see soft lights everywhere. Come to think of it, if I didn’t work with so much paper (tree-recycling accountant that I am), I would turn off those dangerous fluorescent lights at the office and light my workspace only with candles. I’m sure my two office mates would love having to work by candlelight.

Anyway, we’re in our rent house now, and I still burn candles all the time. I don’t even think about it until I snuff them. When I put them out, though, I do cringe a little and start thinking about LED candles, because some of my candles let off a good amount of soot when snuffed. And all of that soot has to go somewhere. My hope is that it doesn’t show when we move out, because we’d like to get our deposit back. Of course, the battery operated candles would do away with that little problem. That, and my fingers wouldn’t stain red every time I picked up a candle to move it.

relax

Even though the suit debacle is finally over, I still kind of need some stress relief. Probably lingering effects from all that shopping. I took a muscle relaxer a couple of nights last week, and they helped a little, but I don’t really like to pop extraneous pills every night (I’m so happy to be down to only one regular night-time med – now if we could just do something about that epilepsy…). Of course, the next step in muscle relaxation is finding a massage therapist here. Ugh, I hate finding massage therapists. I’ve had two great ones, and I’m always afraid that no one will match up to Mary (whom I once threatened to kidnap so I could take her with me when I moved) and now Vicky (my excellent Florida therapist).

In Florida, Frank used to help when my muscles were sore by bringing me a flower delivery from Publix. Alas, there is no Publix here, and I did love their flowers. I have yet to check out the flowers at the stores we do have nearby to see if they match up. But for now, I think the man should check out the online florist and find me something pretty.

Of course, my shopping-related muscle aches and all-around moodiness are not the only reason my hubby should send flowers to his sweetie. Beside the dismal results from yesterday’s big primary (seriously, do these primary voters do the slightest amount of research into their candidates, or do they just go for the guy who talks the prettiest and the one who screws over the party the most?), there was a little incident with the laundry this morning. I promised I wouldn’t hold a grudge over it, because he apologized (as he always does for the same offense), but I’m thinking I deserve them anyway. See, we don’t have an ironing board (gave it away before we moved, and I haven’t bought a new one yet), so I make sure to get the laundry out of the dryer and fold it or hang it right away. But Frank decided he was going to do some laundry (that part was nice), and he started with the delicates, which, you know, took a good twenty minutes of coaching. And then he washed his socks next, and when I went to get some undies from the folded laundry basket this morning, I noticed that he’d just thrown the delicates in a big, wadded pile on top of the folded laundry. As wrinkled as bathtub toes. Rarr. I spent a little time this morning reminding him that he’s an adult now. :-) But I’m not mad anymore, so technically that’s not a grudge, right?

reduced caffeine

As y’all know, when I was diagnosed with epilepsy in March 2006, I read up on the condition–because I’m all about the research. As soon as I learned that too much caffeine aggravates the condition and the symptoms, I quit drinking Cokes. It huuuuuurt. I quit cold turkey, too. Sorta. I finished the Cokes we had on-hand, and after that, no more Cokes. Until I had my colonoscopy in March 2007, and I got a little hooked on ginger ale. It is caffeine free, and it was the only thing that settled my stomach after being on that wretched Half-Litely crap and emptying every nook and cranny of my intestines. Eventually, I stopped again, because Dr. Awesome said no high-fructose corn syrup. But then I discovered natural sodas (thanks, essay!) that are made with pure cane sugar and no caffeine, and well… I’m addicted to black cherry natural soda.

I have digressed in lengthy measure. Ok. When I was on caffeine, I needed a good hour to wake up with my first Coke or two. But ever since I gave up caffeine, it takes me approximately thirty seconds to wake up in the morning (unless I take my meds really late–no matter what, I can’t get out of bed if I haven’t taken my epilepsy meds at least eight hours earlier). The difference (after the withdrawal headaches) is enormous. I wake up, I pee, I come out of the bedroom to start my day.

And then there’s my hubby. He drinks at least one mug of coffee before he can even consider waking. It’s just better for me to not speak to him until he’s gotten past the first mug (or two). He goes half a day without caffeine and has enormous headaches and becomes Mr. Crankypants.

Well. I figured that since this is deeply embedded in his brain (as Cokes were in mine) from the time he was living at home and his dad was making his sludge-strong coffee for him, it would take some kind of drug rehab to get him to quit. Coffee’s great, of course, but decaf would be so much better for our marriage (read: he won’t be so grumpy in the mornings), right?

So I started slow. I told him to give caffeine-free Coca-Cola a try. I figured if he was bringing Coca-Cola (the nectar of life) into the house, at least if it was caffeine free, I could have it sparingly (the HFCS is not something I’ll have often as it is). He turned up his nose at first, because he apparently made the egregious mistake of drinking one of his mom’s caffeine-free diet sodas when he was younger (ugh, diet!) and has therefore always associated caffeine-free with nasty aftertasty cola. I finally convinced him that since it’s still horrible for him, due to the HFCS, he could give it a try. He, of course, told me I was right, and caffeine-free Coke tastes just like fully leaded Coke.

And any day after that on which he woke up exhausted and moody, I hinted (ok, strongly hinted) that he should consider moving to decaf coffee, because then it might not be such an ordeal to wake up in the mornings. After a bunch of “eh”s, he finally told me I could try weaning him off the caffeinated coffee.

But the kicker is this: he can’t know it’s happening. I am not to let him know when he’s on decaf coffee. He needs the placebo effect of thinking he’s having caffeine every morning. That will work fine until he goes back to work, at which point I’ll need to tell him so he’ll know that he has to bring his own magic coffee or drink from the decaf pot at work.

I started this week, the weaning. I make him six cups of coffee every day. Six tablespoons of ground coffee. I started with five caf / one decaf for a few days. Then four caf / two decaf… It will go on from there until he’s fully decaf. Every day I quiz him. “So, how do you feel today? Have you been tired today? Do you have a headache? How was your coffee?” He knows why I’m asking, but he doesn’t know where on the caffeinated spectrum his coffee lies, and he won’t, because he rarely reads my blog. ;-)

I’ll update you after he’s been decaf for a while and tell you if there was an effect… I suspect there will be.

Be not afraid. . . I do NOT have the baby bug!

This may be a sensitive post for some, as it is about babies, so continue reading at your own risk.

I definitely don’t have the baby bug… yet. I am finding them cuter and cuter every day, though. Is that a sign of anything? It seems like everyone is having babies or wanting babies these days, and I’ve kinda been feeling like an outsider until recently. I was looking at Helen’s pictures and reading the posts about birthing her babies, and I turned to Frank and said, “I wanna have a baaaaaby.” He looked at me and asked if I was serious. And he was grinning! Grinning! What the hay? I wasn’t telling him we should go shopping for baby bedding and curtains and brightly colored paints (oh, heck no, there will be no turquoise or pink rooms in our house) or anything like that; I was just making a comment because I was all teary-eyed over Helen’s Nick and Nora. Of course, I suspect he’ll be fine with putting a bun in my oven as soon as we’re settled in Idaho — he’s made comments as such before.

I mean, we’ve talked about the fact that we’d like to start having babies not too long after we get to Idaho… because, you know… I’m thirty-one. I am getting awful ripe for baby-bearing. All of my pregnancies, should I be able to conceive, will be high-risk as it is because of the epilepsy (and I’ll have to get off my seizure meds). And at least one baby (if we have three, or have two and adopt one, or have one and adopt two – ack! Did I give in to his wish for three babies? When did that happen?) will be an even higher risk pregnancy, because I’m hoping the babies will be two or three years apart.

We’d really prefer that our financial situation is stable and good before I get all large with child and we start looking at the crib bedding and mobiles. It would be nice to not have to worry about how we’re going to afford the college tuition savings, the clothing, the food, and even the kids furniture. But you know what they say. If you plan kids for when you think you’re financially ready, you’ll just never have them. I have a feeling that with me getting on in age like apples that need to be stewed instead of served raw, my age is going to be the biggest factor. We can only wait so long to get started…

Frank fixed my car!

And we may keep it after all… we’ll know more in a few days. She just needs a new windshield and a tuneup to run fine for another little while. And the tires have another 30K miles on them. If I can take the steam cleaner to the interior, I could theoretically drive Pinky for another couple of years. She doesn’t have 4WD, but I think I can do without that for a while. Right? I’d love to make it until 2010 with her, because that would be the ten year mark and we could have a decent chunk saved toward my next car by then… Of course, if I get knocked up before then, that will change, because we’ll want something more stable when we have kids.

Ya know it’d be great to just know *anything* right now.

whew

Wow, so I put us on a schedule that started Monday. Every day is mapped out in the extreme. What each of us is doing at each set time. We have gotten so much done. Packing, last bit of staging, applying for jobs, cleaning ceiling fans, cleaning out the fridge, cleaning up and cleaning out the garage, cleaning various parts of the house… Frank painted the first half of the garage today. Tomorrow, the other half.

We were sad Fred Thompson came to Florida today. If only it were next week. We hope he’ll wait to go to Idaho after we move.

What else. I saw the gastro, Dr. Awesome. My BP was 90/70. Weight? 159. So I gained three pounds from when I weighed at Publix, and I’ve only lost three total since going off gluten. BUT. Alice did show up today, and I already look less swollen and bloated in my face. Should I start expecting that now? Off gluten, I have cramps for a whole day instead of thirty seconds on gluten. Not a fan of that side-effect. And I bloat up horribly for about a week ahead of time. Never had that problem before. Ugh.

So. I told Dr. Awesome that all of my symptoms have drastically improved (migraines, hand pain, foot pain, nosebleeds, easy bruising, and more after getting off gluten, muscle aches and nerve pain and seizures after getting off all dairy and starting probiotics). But I still am constantly bloated, TMI ALERT!!!, have clinical diarrhea at LEAST 75% of the time, and spend twenty-four hours a day discomforted to the point of misery from the bloating and gas pains. Fun fun stuff. Dr. Awesome slipped to Dr. Awesome Minus (A- for short) because he said he’s completely satisfied with my improvement and doesn’t think I need to do anything else except maybe Immodium (I’ve been quite clear with him that bandaids are NOT okay). Dude, you heard the part about all that diarrhea, right? Because I can’t do overnight hikes in that condition. I’ll never be able to hike the Grand Canyon again if I’m just satisfied with the status quo. He was perfectly happy with everything though. Drs. amaze me. Anyway, the probiotics seem to be working their magic. I found gluten-free, dairy-free ones. So there you go.

I’ve put in several short breaks each day (funny, I barely have time to read blogs in that time, much less blog myself). Also Bible study every day, which we actually have to schedule in, because otherwise we keep saying, “We really should do that,” and we never do. Sad. And we have half an hour of playing games and drinking hot tea after 9:30 p.m., because no one is supposed to call after 9:00 p.m. (it really annoys us, we’re like, “Who died?”), and certainly not after 9:30 p.m. The first night we played Scattergories. The past two nights, we played one game of Phase 10. I used to be so addicted to Phase 10. And the last two nights, I had so much fun playing (though, admittedly, it’s more fun when there are three or four people playing). Tonight before dinner, Frank asked, “Can we play Phase 10 again tonight?” “I told you it’s addicting,” was my response.

Have had no time for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Monday I will be able to get back on it. Am reading Goblet of Fire at bedtime every night. We have half an hour scheduled for reading in bed. I usually fall asleep after ten minutes, and Frank can spend twenty or thirty on his comic books. Today I said, “Hey, maybe you should try reading books that have words.” “Comic books have words. They just have pictures, too.” Yeah, pictures that take about ten minutes to interpret. “What is happening in that picture?” “I think he’s falling off a building.” “Are you sure?” “Oh. Yeah. Because four frames later, someone mentions him falling off the building.” Then why didn’t they just say that??

Frank, a lifetime insomniac, has slept very well this week. I’m convinced it’s the hot tea. He isn’t sure.

Rowdi is scratching one of her n!ppl3s so hard that it has bled, scabbed over, and bled some more. I don’t know what to do for her. Watch this be the only part of the post that gets comments.

When we move to Idaho (Lord willing), we will become huge Boise State fans. It’s pretty much a requirement, especially if I want to stay in my in-laws’ good graces. Plus, they’re an easy team to like. I once knew a guy who was so obsessed with Tennessee football (because he went there) that he tried to recruit people. This was in the Texas Metroplex. I don’t think he converted many. But considering that Texas Tech and Boise State are the only college football games I’ve been to and bothered watching on TV (I’m a Cowboys fan, and it’s pro sports all the way for me, yo), those are the only teams in which I’m interested, and… BSU is much closer to Boise than Tech… yeah, I will actually become a big BSU fan. Once upon a time, my dear friend Scott told me that I would be a fan of the teams located in the city I live. That it was a requirement. No. I assured him, I will always root for the Metroplex teams. I suppose I’ve picked up a couple of college teams, but it’s still Stars, Cowboys, and bless my heart, the Texas Rangers. I liked the Mavericks when Mark Cuban wasn’t financing Loose Change the movie (which I think fell through), but now I can hardly stand to think about where all that Mavs money is going. I can’t wait to snark his Dancing with the Stars performances. Oh, and yes, the Metroplex still has metric football in the form of the Dallas Sidekicks, but… it’s so… metric.

I wrote my awesome Gloatation Boo-Bye Super-Fantastical Speech today. Finally. Go read it, it’s some of my best work ever!

Anyway. I’m late for game time. Ta!

notes about nothing

  • So… I’m almost done with all the filing, and then I’ll be caught up and never get behind forever. Seriously, I’ve been behind on my filing since about… oh… 1998? So yeah. This will be a good thing.
  • What else… Frank is finished painting all the doors. As soon as I’m finished packing up everything in the livingroom (the last room with *stuff* in it), Frank can paint the livingroom trim, and I can pack away the last few things in the garage.
  • I love Super-Fantastic Ultra Wish Time on “The Soup”. The little head that goes, “Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-ehhhhhh”? Makes me laugh out loud every single time.
  • I found my poetry. Even my big poetry notebook from high school. Ech, I used to be so maudlin. But the stuff from when I was going through my ugly divorce doesn’t suck. I also found a concept for a novel that I kind of… er… backgrounded. I don’t even have a full concept. But I do have main characters, setting, etc. I might go back to it someday. I’ve started several over the years. I think I lost a few when my computer crashed. I have one on Frank’s laptop… The thing is, I’m ready for our lives to settle down so I can write earnestly. Write my novels. I’m a good story teller. Terrible at coming up with the story, but good at the narrative and dialogue.
  • Moving… we’ll go wherever the road leads. We’ve looked at several places. Amarillo — not gonna happen, though it is my favorite place ever to have lived. Phoenix real estate is tempting — decent prices, close to the Canyon and other hiking… but… no grass, no four seasons. Austin is great but still humid, and I fear we won’t do outdoorsy things once we get there because of the humidity and distance from the desert. Idaho… the only drawback I see is that we’re not close to my family and friends. But close to Frank’s family, in the desert, hiking everywhere, parks everywhere, so close to a ton of national parks, four seasons… It will all depend on a couple of factors, but I guess y’all can tell where I’m leaning.
  • Tonight I was burning candles on the wall sconces in the bedroom. I decided they’d been burning long enough (I could see them from my position in the sitting area), so I went into the bedroom to put them out. I heard a drip, drip, drip. Put out both candles. Still, drip, drip, drip. I knew where this was going… Sure enough, there was a massive pile of wax on the carpet, drips on the wall, splatters on the back of the bed frame. Thank goodness for irons and goof-off. We’ll see if the iron works before I try the goof-off (which could potentially bleach the carpet). Good thing I haven’t thrown out the iron. I’ve considered it. I never use it….
  • I’ve been making decent meals lately, and one of the best ones I’ve made recently? Gave us both heartburn. Too bad, that. Oh well. It was particularly inspired, too.
  • We’ve finished BSG, seasons one and two. Watched season five of
    “Friends” (BJ’s had it for $17). Now we’ve moved on to season one of LOST. So. We either have to buy more TV DVDs or move on to the movies.
  • I’m almost done with the next chapter of Harry Potter. Sorry I’ve gone down to posting one at a time, but we’re so busy. And ready to get out of here.
  • Ya know, I love Pier 1 candles — they smell so yummy — but they sure don’t burn well. My Tar-zhay candle that I bought on clearance for $3.88 burns so much prettier. And there is nothing more frustrating (in the candle world) than a pack of Party-Lite tealights that have off-center wicks and therefore only burn for about half an hour instead of six hours. Brutally disappointing. Ta, musees. I’m internetted out for the day.

Wow. Sorry for the light blogging.

Here’s the deal. I may have been glutened, I may have a corn or lactose problem. Lactose is very likely, considering that gluten bigots like me commonly have problems with lactose until they’re all healed up. It’s hard for me to say, because every day that I’ve had lactose recently (no milk, but other dairy products — I strictly use Almond Breeze almond “milk” for any milk needs, including in baking), I’ve also had corn. I’ve thought before that I might be corn sensitive, and I’m almost sure I’m sensitive to milk, but occasionally I have yogurt, cheese, cream, etc. without issues.

I’ve also had Starburst the last few days. Starburst fruit chews say right on the bag that they’re gluten-free. Yet they contain dextrin, which can be made from wheat. Googling left me as unsure as pre-Googling about Starburst’s dextrin. I could call M&M/Mars, there’s a thought.

I’m staying on milk for now and leaving out corn in all situations to see if I still have the problems off corn.

Anyway, back to the last couple of days. Yesterday I was so worried over my Papa (maternal grandfather) that I spent half the day crying and praying and the other half of the day sick over the Minnesota bridge collapse. And a tiny piece of one of those halves went to incredible annoyance over something completely unrelated.

It took me a long time to get to sleep last night. Usually it takes less than twenty minutes. I read, my eyes start closing at will, I put the book down, and I fall asleep as soon as I turn onto my side. Last night, no reading, but I went to bed around two. I didn’t read because Frank was already in bed (I was still eating my dinner of popcorn and Louisiana hot sauce when he hit the sack) and can’t get to sleep unless he’s snuggling me (awwww), so I didn’t want to turn the light on or even open my book light. I’m thoughtful.

I dreamt this morning that I was a Harry Potter character, and Lord Thingy had set lizards on me. When I woke up, I was yelling and gasping. Frank said, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” I remember responding, “It was… Voldemort! He put… lizards all over me, and they were attacking me!”

Fuh-REAK!!

Normally, I wake up once, and I’m wide awake. After my lizard dream, I peed and went back to sleep (don’t worry, I peed in the bathroom, not the bed).

And even though I got eight or nine hours of sleep, I was completely useless all day. I did manage to make it to the vet’s office for dog food and Wild Oats for natural soda, but wow. I didn’t feel like working, blogging, anything. I just sat on the couch.

I did blog a chapter in Deathly Hallows, but I couldn’t even finish my post.

I felt better after my shopping and was even able to make bread, crab cakes, asparagus, and a fantastic sauce to go over the crab cakes and asparagus. So maybe I’m okay now. But I was totally fatigued all day today.

Normally, that’s strictly gluten when I have fatigue. The only thing I can think of is the Starburst.

Anyway, I think I’m back. I’ll have more Harry Potter chapters up soon. Plus other blogging, too. I’m not just a one-trick pony, peeps.

beater

Tammi found out about a recall for Sara Lee whole wheat bread and some store brands as well. She’s very surprised that the bread may have small pieces of metal in it.

Hey Tammi, maybe Sara Lee’s husband forgot that Sara Lee said, “Don’t put the beater for the Kitchenaid mixer in the dishwasher,” and he put the beater in the dishwasher anyway. And the next time Sara Lee used the mixer, metal started flaking off into the batter of the bread.

Not that I would know anything about that…

Anyway, I can’t wait for my replacement beater (it should arrive today, and I’m gonna name it Fred) so I can make more bread.

I wasn’t quite sure what we were having for dinner…

…because when I took the meat out of the freezer earlier today, I couldn’t tell if I’d taken out cube steaks or ground beef (I usually write on the freezer bag label so I don’t have this problem). So it wasn’t actually until I opened the meat to make dinner that I realized we were having cube steak for dinner. Bummer, kinda, because we had chicken fried steak two days ago. But it turned out really well. I found a recipe for some kind of cube steak dish (with mushrooms, onions, parsley, Worcestershire sauce, and Dijon mustard — I used stone ground mustard instead), and it was fast and easy. Plus we ate before 8 p.m.! New record for us!

money

Wow. Lately I’ve kinda neglected “doing the finances.” I mean, I get all the bills paid and check the balance and make sure we have money in the bank, but I haven’t actually entered all the transactions for all of our accounts into Quicken, my financial reporting software. I mean, the personal stuff doesn’t take so long, but I tend to put off all of it because I dread doing the business accounts.

So yeah. Last week I spent two or three days just doing the finances, because they were so poorly neglected. And I’m still not done with the business accounts. What a beating.

as seen on TV

I’m not just addicted to TV. I’m addicted to those as-seen-on-TV products. In fact, when I need a solution to one of my many weird housewife issues, I usually head to the as-seen-on-TV aisle at my favorite pharmacy and start looking around… Which means that I’ve just found the TV shopping addict’s jackpot.

I’ve been planning to get more Space Bags to pack the clothes and blankets in for the move, and they have them (for cheaper than I usually see them). But before we move… how about these driveway alarms just in case nosy neighbor Bill happens by?

I made bread!

Successfully! And it’s gooooooood. Ok, I didn’t like make it from scratch and mix up all the flours and whatnot, but I did use this mix from Bob’s Red Mill (my favorite of all the red mills). I had tried it before, but being smart like I am, I had already packed up all my bread pans (not that I’ve ever made bread in my life, but you know, I make a lot of things now that I didn’t make before I was GF), so when I made it the first time, I used the wrong size pan *AND* I missed that whole *let the dough rise in the pan before you bake it* step. Minor things, of course. So the bread the first time I made it was… well, it tasted good, but the texture was all. wrong. /Hermione

But this time it came out very well, as I actually followed the instructions, yay me, and I bought a bread pan at Publix a couple of weeks ago after my first try at making bread went wonky. (My cooling racks are also in storage, of course, because I *never* need them, right, so I first used a ceramic plate and then moved it to my wrought-iron trivet so it would cool faster.)

We had bacon and mayo sandwiches (we don’t have tomatoes or lettuce right now, I wasn’t actually thinking ahead) at 11:30 p.m., because I could not wait to eat a sandwich. Funny, I was never a sandwich person (nor a bacon person, for that matter) before this whole gluten bigotry popped up.

argh

I got glutened. I have no idea how. I have a tiny headache but not much. I have nerve pain in my right leg. And I feel like I’m having seizures IN MY EYEBALLS. Yeah, I know, I’m a freak. But I checked every label before I cooked yesterday, and today we only had leftovers. I also had reduced fat Ruffles and Heluva Good french onion dip, both of which are supposed to be GF. I did break down and eat some of the Skittles I bought today (I’m gonna have to call Essay back and tell her I caved), and a few of them were harder than they should have been. Maybe there was something wrong with them, I don’t know.

And headline images in WordPress doesn’t want to work for me. I’m doing everything it says. It keeps telling me I don’t have fonts installed, but I do. RARR RARR RARR RARR RARR.

Ohhhhhh, my leg hurts.

Oh, here’s something interesting. I know it’s common for celiacs (which I’m supposedly not) to be hungry all the time after going GF. So far, I’m never hungry. The only reason I think about food is because I remember I have a husband to feed. I told Frank the other day that I just haven’t been hungry since going GF. Yesterday, when I realized it was 5 p.m. before I even thought about making his LUNCH, I told him that he will have to remind me about food if he wants to eat, considering that I’m currently just not thinking about food much for some reason (and I remember when I went GF in December for three months, I noticed no change in appetite). Frank, conversely, is hungry all the time. That is perhaps because his wife doesn’t feed him anymore.

So tonight around 9:00, Frank finally said to me, “You really aren’t hungry anymore, are you?” And I said, “Oh. No… I’m sorry, I forgot to feed you again. Are you hungry?” “Yeah, I’m kinda hungry.” “I told you that you’re gonna have to remind me to feed you now that I’m not hungry.” “Yeah, I’m just so used to you telling me a couple of times a day that it’s time to eat.”

That’s probably because I cook when I’m hungry. And it’s not as fun for me to cook when I’m not hungry. Huh.

fifteen days
OR
too cool for school, too funny for my honey

For the record, yuck. I do not call Frank “honey,” nor do I allow him to call me same. We’re all about every other term of endearment in the book, but not that one. Anyway.

Frank keeps on hinting that I’ve done laundry in like… never. Whatever, dude. I’m busy, yo. So we just finished moving a ton of furniture to storage. Now all we have left to move over there are the TV and my chest (not that one, the one lined with cedar), which go tomorrow morning. And here we go with yet another round of the Frank J. / SarahK talky-talk.

FRANK J.: I’m gonna go take a shower now. But I don’t want to put these clothes back on, because they need to be washed [yes, we already discussed laundry like a half hour ago, I get it!]… So what should I wear?
SARAHK [hey, I've got my own life questions to ponder, husband! what the dealio?]: Um… [knowing that he can't just walk around neckid like I'd prefer, hubba-hubba, because we don't have blinds up on the giant livingroom windows yet]… Why don’t you just wear boxers and a white t-shirt or something? [Yes. I'm a genius. I can't even come up with the word "undershirt" right now, y'all. Fifteen days left of this gluten mumbo-jumbo. Fifteen days.]
FRANK J.: Why don’t you?!
SARAHK [ha! that's what he says when he wishes I wasn't so smart!]: Because I’m not you! Or a dork!

Buuuuuuurn. Again. It’s too easy, I know. I shouldn’t even take credit.

Postscript: He called me from the bathroom before he started his shower.

FRANK J.: Sweetie, I need a towel!
SARAHK: Are you already undressed?
FRANK J.: Yes.

HaHA! This was a win-win question for me. If the answer was no, I was going to follow up with, “Do you have legs?” but since the answer was yes, I was ON IT! Neckid man in the shower alert! So of course, I took a peek.

SARAHK: Here’s your towel, monkeyface.
FRANK J.: Thank you, sweet-sweet.
SARAHK [opening the shower door quickly]: NECKID MAN! SCORE!
FRANK J.: :-O

Life is good in the house of J. Life is good.

things we do when we’re not working on the house 24 hours a day

*Eat. We watch our shows while we eat. We also blog a little while we eat. See the second bullet point as to why we do that. Back to eating. Eating is good for you (well, it’s actually bad for me right now, but it is a necessary evil, because we can only survive for roughly three weeks without eating, and if I don’t eat for three weeks, I don’t think my medical tests are going to be accurate). Eating nourishes the body (well, most people’s bodies). Science and doctors say it does, anyway. Eating also keeps the blood sugar and energy up so we can work on the house.
*Blog. This is a hard one for some people to grasp. See, blogging brings us traffic. Traffic at IMAO directly makes us money, because each hit directly increases the amount of money we make. Also, increased traffic means increased publicity for those wonderful IMAO tshirts (get your Fred Thompson Facts tshirt now!). Those make us money, too. Also, every time someone sees the Dubya book cover in the sidebars, he/she is tempted to buy the Dubya book. Every time we sell a Dubya book, that makes us money, too. Money is good! Only the love of money is the root of all evil, not money itself. Money buys us food. See the first bullet point. Money also buys more paint and moving boxes.
*Sleep. Many scientists have studied the rejuvenating effects of sleep over the years, and most of them agree that sleep is good and necessary. We usually sleep seven to eight hours. Sometimes six, but then we’re worthless for the first three hours, so it’s better to go with seven.
*Frank drinks coffee two to three times a day. While he does that, he also reads or watches the news and/or news blogs to get fodder for funny blog posts. See the second bullet point as to why he does that.
*While Frank drinks coffee, I ice my feet. One of my worst celiac symptoms is awful pain in my hands and feet when I use them for more than a couple of hours a day. I’m careful how I hold my wrists so that I don’t bend them too much — was starting to feel the awful tendonitis-like feelings I had that previously prompted my neuro to test me for carpal tunnel syndrom and led his wife to run nerve tests with dreadful needles punched all over my body. This was after painting half of the kitchen. So I took a few days off from painting and packed boxes, organized for future painting, cleaned stuff out, kept my wrists straight. They seem to be okay now. My feet, though. I’m to the point that now I start off the day with my heels hurting, and the sides of my heels. I sleep with an ice pack under my feet. I ice during coffee breaks. I Tiger Balm my ankles and feet. Sometimes I lie on the floor on my back and prop my feet on the wall or a chair or an ottoman so my feet are elevated above my heart, like we do when we’re hiking.
*While I ice my feet, I blog or veg. Or eat chips and french onion dip, the breakfast of champions.
*We make runs to Lowe’s or Home Depot. If there is paint involved, we go to Lowe’s. Lowe’s is a half hour away. So it’s an hour round trip, plus the time spent inside the store. Home Depot is closer, but still a half hour round trip, plus the time spent inside the store. We are big on efficiency, so we try to run our other errands while we’re making our runs to Lowe’s and Home Depot. Taking Rowdi to the dog spa, going to the post office, grocery shopping, etc.
*We go to the church building for worship. Yep, that’s the most important thing we do.
*Occasionally, we DO IT. We would DO IT all the time but we’re just too tired from all this work.

I’ll update later if I think of other things that we do when we’re obviously not working on the house 24 hours a day.

someone said to me this morning…

It’s not dirty or anything, but it’s adult, so I’ll put it in the extended entry…
Read more »

laundry

FRANK J.: After I eat, I’ll need to wash some clothes.
SARAHK: Ok. [laughing] You should start with the ones that are already in the washer. [I've already washed these at least twice. Maybe thrice.]
FRANK J.: [laughing] You’re a BAD sweetie!
SARAHK: You don’t have to say it with such emphasis.
FRANK J.: What is it about moving them to the dryer? That’s like four times already!
SARAHK: Three. Three only. There’s already something in the dryer.
FRANK J.: So put them in a hamper. [I chose not to correct him on the proper usage of the word "hamper," as I wanted to keep the conversation moving.]
SARAHK: No. Absolutely not. They just… [I wanted to say "wrinkle," but they've been in there for weeks, so I think we're past wrinkled. But I'm totally planning to fluff them before I take them out! Totally.] No. They become part of the mess outside the dryer. [Good save.]

Egad, he’s demanding. At least I’m still microwaving him food. Once, sometimes twice, per day. I’m a saint!

after much deliberation

we have finally agreed on a paint color for the house.

Waverly Home Classics brand’s “Tawny”. #WV40002.

this is the picture i was looking for yesterday

don’t mind me, i’m just moving my mouth to hear myself talk

Yesterday Frank called a recruiter in Austin. “Please please please send us your resume. When will you be here?” I was in the garage working like mad, because I know he’s determined to leave me in Florida all by myself, and I will be a monkey’s flying cow uncle first. I asked him when he got off the phone when he told them he’d be available for work. Because you know, I’ve told him several times that we’re putting the house on the market April 15th, he can send his resume to Austin on the 7th, and we’ll plan to leave here end of April, mid-May, end of May, perhaps mid-June (because we know our house is going to sell right away, it’s all the buzz in the neighborhood). He can go end of April if there’s a job he absolutely can’t pass up, but really, I’d love us to have some time off to go to the Grand Canyon before he starts work in Texas. “So when did you say you’ll be available for work?” “I said we’d be in Austin in a couple of weeks or maybe a month.” “Do you hate me?” He had no idea why I would react any way other than pleased as punch that he’d given the correct answer. “You are just bound and determined to leave me in this hell called Florida all by myself, aren’t you?” (Please pardon my language, it’s what I said, I don’t want to lie to you.) “What? What’d I do? That’s not the right answer?”

You know, if he does leave me here by myself, I’m hiring a contractor to finish the rest of the work on the house and then spending a lavish couple of weeks at Disney (staying there in their uber-expensive rooms and everything) with a certain Prince Charming (Cinderella’s boyfriend) while I wait for the work to be done. Then while I’m selling the house, it’s pedicures and massages every day. Every day. So that job in Austin had better pay the big bucks, because I’ll be living it up down here and requiring quite the stipend. Oh, maybe when I have no showings, wRitErsbLock, sherlock, and I can hang out at the space center and use the annual pass I just got. Too bad my darling husband will be far away in Texas, chowing down on that awesome Austin food without me, not able to use his new KSC pass. Too bad, my love. Oh, and you have to leave me all but Old Faithful. You get to take only one gun with you until I come for good. You leave me to rot in Florida, you leave the weapons. The beautiful, shiny, sexy weapons. Not to mention, the beautiful, shiny, sexy wife! Slowly rotting in the Florida humidity. Yes, well, I’m gonna send you shiny, beautiful (not you readers, you–Frank) pictures of me cleaning the guns every night whilst I am abandoned here in the netherregions of America.

And since he’s helping me around the house right now, it’s project after project for him. Only he knows that I won’t let him pack stuff, because I want our things to get to Texas not broken. So he doesn’t even start grabbing stuff and throwing it into boxes, because, well, he just knows. He’s already done most of the outside work and gotten most of the stuff off the plant ledges for me (I have to redecorate them more sparingly and dust anything that goes back up there, plus we have to paint everything before anything goes back up…). So anything I come across for him, I just tell him, oh, you can do this next. He’s very efficient. My list is very long and celiactically slow-moving, though the boxes are getting packed fairly fast because I’m a much more organized person than one would think by looking at the state of things right now.

Anyway, he asked for something to do because he’d successfully removed the towel bar in the master bathroom (yes, they really did just glue it onto the wall), so I sucked in my breath and gave him very specific instructions on how to remove my clothes from the dryer. Mind you, I have nine categories of laundry, including dry-clean-only, and this is my smallest category, so there were about eight pieces of clothing in the dryer. And I gave very specific instructions. And asked nicely. “Ok, and make sure that you use only the big plastic hangers.” “Ok.” He acts like he hears what I’m saying, but he’s just pretend-listening. “And don’t smush the clothes when you hang them in the closet. They need their space.” They’re my cutest shirts. “Ok.” So I go into my closet after I’ve made an exhaustive list of everything we need at Lowe’s, Target, Walmart, BJ’s, the post office, and Big Lots. I can’t wait to put on my cutest new KSC t-shirt! It’s brown and gold, my sweetie who wants me to rot in Florida alone bought it for me with his allowance. I love it.

First thing I notice is that it is smushed. Along with another of my t-shirts fresh from the dryer. Eye roll. “I thought you said you wouldn’t smush my clothes?” See, he got distracted because there was lingerie in the dryer. I know, because he held it up and asked, “How am I supposed to know how to hang this stuff?” “Most of it is t-shirts. And if it’s lingerie, I have three hangers of lingerie, just hang it on one of those hangers. It’s not hard.” But he was still stuck on it’s black and pink and lacy. Anyway, “I’m sorry… I tried not to.” Then I noticed that everything was on wire hangers. WIRE HANGERS! They’re from the devil, you know. “Sweetie!” “What? What’d I do?” “Do you think I just say things to hear myself talk?” “What??” “I said only big plastic hangers.” “I used those until I ran out.” “That’s when you go to other closets and find more.” He usually asks in these situations. His head was still with the black and pink and lacy. “Oh. I thought you just preferred the plastic ones, but these were ok too.” “No. If these were ok, I wouldn’t have made a special point to say only use big plastic hangers.” “Then why do we have them?” Ah, quick, but I’m quick, too. “Because the drycleaners send clothes home on these. I immediately transfer clothes to the big plastic hangers so they’re not ruined. Wire hangers ruin clothes.” “Then why do drycleaners use them?” Why why why. “Because they’re cheap.” So there.

And then I see a classic example of why I just don’t let him touch the laundry ever. I didn’t take a picture, but I’ve taken a picture before. It wasn’t as bad this time, but it was on its way. I just started laughing. “Did you even try?” “I tried!” “No, you half-tried.” “I tried to try.” “You tried to half-try.”
Read more »

American Idol Six – Top 12 guys

I blogged it last night over at IMAO. If I had time, I would do a link roundup, but the evil fake sarahk is coming to visit us this weekend, and my house cleaning deadline is upon me.

i’ll get right on that

FRANK J: Hey, Sweetie, I’m heading home now. And dinner better be waiting for me when I get there.[It's good he's joking, because I do so like his face. He has a nice face, and I'd hate to destroy such a nice face. Oh, I'm sorry. Where's that Christian submissive wife in me? What I meant to say is: 1 Peter 3:7 says "Husbands, likewise, dwell with them with understanding, giving honor to the wife, as to the weaker vessel," and that does not sound like he was dwelling with me with understanding.]
SARAHK: Yeah, that’ll ensure that dinner will be waiting for you when you get home. Ever.
FRANK J: I’m not sure what I’d do if dinner was waiting for me when I got home. I’d be so surprised, I don’t think I’d be able to eat.
SARAHK: Yeah, that too. Saying you’d be surprised, that’ll make me ever have dinner waiting for you. Ever.
FRANK J: I don’t think I’d want dinner that early anyway. I wouldn’t be hungry then.
SARAHK: Ever.

See, I think he calls me and says things just so I’ll have stuff to blog about. Since I’m too busy to blog about 24 or to write my extensive post about why CSI: Horatio is the best Monday night television show and America should be hyped up on that instead of 24 which just isn’t doing it for me this year, and considering that my blogging about putting together bookcases and vacuuming the floors would not be the laugh riot of the decade, I think he’s just trying to help me out.

Oh, here’s another doozy: Colossians 3:19: “Husbands, love your wives, and do not be bitter toward them.”
Read more »

wah

1099s are due today, right? i seem to remember that from my CPA years.

so… 1099s. i guess i need some kind of software for that… TurboTax it is.

i’m sure all the IMAO guys would like to get paid their CafePress money for the past three months sometime in the near future as well. ugh. i hate the CafePress accounting, because they don’t have a download to Excel option, and the copy/paste thing does not work at all. i can’t even do a text to columns fix on it.

oh, and i’m about 10 days late filing my sales tax report for the last quarter. and a month late filing my 2553 with the IRS. I need to call them about that, because i really don’t want to be a C-corp for one year and then switch to being an S-corp.

i think i know what i’m doing for the rest of today.

sometimes being a business owner really stinks.

negligence

my blog is experiencing all kinds of it. that’s because my house is experiencing less of it. i’m finally unpacking the rest of the boxes that have been sitting in my garage since i moved here two years ago. yeah, um, there are six or seven of the seventy-five boxes i brought (i’m not exaggerating — my stepdad counted them when he loaded them on the truck because he was baffled by the sheer volume of stuff i owned) still sitting in the garage. i’ve been making significant progress, though.

once the garage is cleaned up (so much trash went out today, and so many boxes have been going to my friend at church, and i have items i’m taking to the church building tonight for donation, and more for my friend, and so on), we’ll actually have room to organize the tool bench again. and the wall next to it. and i’ll be able to move Big Whitey (the big white cabinet) to the garage from the kitchen. and i’ll have room to set up a sawhorse and cut down plywood for the attic space (which is teeniny). then i can put all the attic stuff into the attic. after that, i can paint the garage, including the floor, and start on the inside of the house.

and eventually the outside of the house.

so you see. i am working hard at ignoring you.

oh, plus there is this stupid doctor i saw yesterday who decided he would rather have a peeing contest with me over who knows more about the gluten-free diet, him or me, than actually figure out why i’ve had chronic diarrhea for three years.

other than my neuro, i’m pretty much losing faith in doctors. so it looks like i’m going to schedule some time at the Mayo Clinic after all. because i want to make sure i’m doing the right thing. i want a positive diagnosis. i want the biopsy to make sure that i do have flat villi in my small intestine. if not, if i don’t actually have celiac disease — and wow, the improvement is remarkable, so it’s unlikely that i don’t — i want to know what i DO have so i can get better. i’m pretty sure it’s in my bowels, and i’d like a gastro to get on board with me who wants to figure out what’s causing everything. if i have celiac disease, i want a doctor to tell me that that’s all i have.

what’s it take to get a stinkin’ endoscopy and colonoscopy in this geriatric haven? they don’t have those in Florida? dadgum, just run some tests, ok?

there’s more to that.

anyway, i have to get back to neglecting y’all. :-) sorry.

my 24 and American Idol stuff is over at IMAO.

oh! oh! but i’ve started to injuring myself already with the house projects, so i’ll have that kind of blogging to do. i already bludgeoned my arm today pulling silk flowers out of a box. pulling flowers out of a box, i can injure myself. just you wait until i use the jigsaw. i’ll lose a limb, i tells ya.

dinner

Ok, so I’ve been really tired all week, and we’ve eaten dinner anywhere between 8:30 and 10:30 this week. But at least I’ve fed him, ok?

And just now, my sweet, understanding husband says to me, “Hey sweetie, tomorrow night, if you don’t fix dinner too late, we can watch Mission: Impossible III.”

“Oh, ok. If I don’t make dinner too late, huh?”

“Yeah, ’cause you’re a bad sweetie. You better be careful, or I’m gonna go to Mormon heaven and won’t let you in because you feed me late.”

If I feed him at all now.

SMUG!!

[Info important to the story: Rowdi has never been allowed in our bedroom, for various reasons. The #1 reason being that it's never been clean enough that I would trust her to not eat random items off the floor, and I'd never be able to find my socks again. Plus, the litter boxes are in our bathroom right now, and I don't want her running in there and fetching poo. Even more, I don't want Sydney to decide that she can't go to the litter boxes anymore.]

SARAHK: So, what should we do about the dog? She’s never been out in the livingroom while we’re doing it before…
FRANK J.: Oh yeah. I don’t know.
SARAHK: I’m sure she’ll be fine. Sydney will stay in the guest room on the other side of the house, and Minerva will probably be at my feet so she can be in the way.
FRANK J.: Ok.

Notice the lack of response from the male of the species, who is focused only on the mating ritual.

Some time later, we are in the throes of passion, and suddenly Frank starts laughing.

Well, that’ll give the already-embattled hoo-hah some confidence, no?

So I look up at the male of the species, and he’s looking down and to the right. And Rowdi is licking his hand. And then she looks up at me with those big brown puppy eyes and wags that stooopid stub of hers.

I don’t know about y’all, but that’s pretty much a mood-killer for me. You bad bad dog! I lay my head back down on the bed and close my eyes.

Then I hear this “Er-raaaaaaa-errrrrrrr…..” and I look down and see that Rowdi has turned around and headed toward the foot of the bed, but Minerva is there on the floor. Oh good. A confrontation! Meanwhile, all action on the bed has stopped. We’re laughing, but I’m also a teensy bit annoyed.

So I do what I always do in this situation (well, not this exact situation, but in the dog / cat faceoff), which is snap my fingers. Rowdi immediately sits close to the foot of the bed. Then she turns her head around and looks at both of us so proudly like, “Look, mommy & daddy, I’m sitting nicely next to the bed! You should always let me in here!” Grinning that stupid dog grin.

And then… then!! That dumb, smug dog lies down next to the bed and gets comfortable. Like it’s perfectly normal for her to be there.

Of course, I have given up on salvaging the mating ritual, so we leave the bedroom and I am snapping my fingers the whole way and telling her to get out of my room. She prances out in front of me, wagging that stub, and then when she gets out of my bedroom, she turns around and grins this huge, smug grin and looks up at me like, “Please, pet me! Wasn’t that fun? Shouldn’t I be allowed in there all the time forever and ever? Yay!”

And she is really feeling good about herself, because she was able to go into our room and not just walk around, but lie next to the bed, without even getting yelled at (because of timing and whatnot).

Bad, smug dog.