Almost Antique

I was mocking one of Violet’s terrible children’s songs CDs the other day. Thinking I was funny, I began doing a geriatric-looking version of the Twist. Today, my knee hurts. For a 29-year old knee, it’s holding up considerably well…but still…

I Now Pronounce You Chuck and…

Last night, I had a dream that I was getting married to Chuck Norris. I have no idea what happened to my current husband, but apparently, I was ready to re-marry. Though I was planning on wearing the same dress I initially got married in, I had to do the dishes right before the ceremony. Apparently, a very large group of people had recently eaten spaghetti, and my dress acquired several spaghetti sauce stains. I told my Mom that it didn’t really matter, because the dress still had a champagne stain on it from my previous wedding reception. Regardless, she insisted that I needed a new dress, and some of my old American Funds co-workers magically appeared to help me with the search. We went into this large house, where a family was preparing elaborate beaded outfits for an upcoming Rodeo. We finally convinced the family to let me borrow a white-and-cream gown that was made entirely of beads. There was a green headdress made of pointed tissue paper that went with the gown. I proceeded to dress myself in this lovely get-up, when I realized that I was running late (20 minutes late, to be exact: the wedding was scheduled at 7 PM, and it was 7:20). I ran to the church and up to the altar, faced my husband-to-be…and then woke up.

Oddly enough, I recognize where several of these dream elements came from. My husband moved one of our wedding pictures to a more prominent place a few days ago. The local news last night featured a story on the local Stock Show and Rodeo. My husband also told me he was going to bring Lone Wolf McQuade home so I could review it for the film blog. Though I admire Chuck Norris, and find his campaigning efforts for Huckabee entertaining, I have never had a crush on him. So my desire to get hitched to him, even subconsciously, seems a little strange. I told my husband about the dream this morning. His response: “That’s okay. I’m willing to share you with Chuck.” Nice to know…

On Dependency

I got a grand total of three hours sleep last night, because I was having difficulty breathing and swallowing. My allergy appointment is still two weeks away, but I seem to have developed a rather nasty sinus infection while I’ve been waiting. I got out of bed at seven this morning in a lame attempt to make a same-day appointment at the nearby treatment facility. I was on hold for ten minutes, and spoke briefly with the appointment scheduler, who finally picked up again only to hang up on me. I called back repeatedly, and then waited on hold for another ten minutes. The second representative informed me that there were no appointments available today. When I asked if there was anything available for tomorrow, she told me that they don’t update that information until later in the day. I asked if I should simply call back later, and she said yes. I know from experience, however, that the next representative will tell me that I have to wait until tomorrow morning to make an appointment, and the cycle will repeat itself. Perhaps, if I start beating my head against the wall right now, I will somehow scare the sinus infection out before I have to call back tomorrow morning. This solution seems somehow saner than the alternative. Or perhaps I will become a true Benadryl junkie, popping little pink pills whenever I feel the need for a respiratory and/or psychological fix. The resultant detachment will transport me to a place where silly things like the quality of health care don’t seem to matter anymore…

And a Few More

Staying true to her character and my predictions, Violet threw her egg at me. She them proceeded to take a wicked poop (is there any other kind?), which prompted me to run her a bath. She enjoyed the bath so much that she didn’t want to get out. I tried draining the water, but she was smart enough to keep stopping the drain. She started splashing and thrashing around so much I was afraid she was going to drown or hit her head. I eventually got her out, and she was thankfully uninjured. But now my bathroom resembles Waterworld (sans the weird costumes and lousy dialogue). Enough procrastination: it is now time to address the litter and diaper pail. It’s a good thing I have sinus problems, or my chances of survival would be exceedingly slim.

Random Midday Thoughts

I’m wondering exactly how long I can wander around in a state of half-shattered, half-elated, before I go completely out of my gourd. I feel very loved at the moment because Turbo’s sitting in my lap, but she’s also making it hard to type. Her dander makes my hands itch, but I’ll never get rid of her. Violet is currently watching Superman IV because she is too young to understand that it is clearly the worst of the Superman movies. She is also too young to comprehend why I’ve been in such a terrible mood this week. Oh, whoops. I lied. It seems she does realize how bad Superman IV is, because she just handed me Superman III, insisting that she watch “this one” instead. Better go. I’ve got to figure out what she’s going to throw at me for lunch…

Insomnia Irritation

I made the mistake of staying up until eleven last night, because I foolishly thought that I would have about seven hours to sleep before my husband and/or Violet got up. I woke up at 2:30, thirsty, and decided to get some water. At about 3:30, when I was finally ready to go back to sleep, Violet started talking. She kept repeating the phrase, “Oh no,” in a very sleepy little voice. I wasn’t sure whether she was awake or not, so I listened for a while, and eventually she stopped talking. Just as I started to doze off, at about 4:55, she started babbling again. It sounded like she was ready to get up, so after about fifteen minutes I drug myself out of bed and got dressed. By the time I got to her bedroom, however, she had gone back to sleep. As soon as I got back into bed, she started talking again for a few minutes. I finally dozed off sometime during Jerry’s shower, and got to sleep for about a half an hour before Violet decided it was REALLY time to get up. Now I’m sitting here with a VERY LARGE cup of coffee, trying desperately to wake up so I can take her to the library for story time at ten. The little girl that pushed her over last week had better not try anything this time. I am in NO MOOD.

Obscure Question of the Day

What is the Korean equivalent of the f-bomb???

Acronym Analysis

If I had Seasonal Affective Disorder and a Social Anxiety Problem, would that make me a SAD SAP?

Nothing but Spite for the Wicked Dust Mite

It’s four o’ clock in the afternoon, and time to wake up and have another cup of coffee. I was suffering miserably from allergies this morning so I decided the best course of action would be to ingest some Benadryl. I can breathe and swallow just fine now, but my entire being wants to revert to a comatose state. I just had a two hour nap while my daughter also slept, and I feel like I could sleep for about two more days. Thinking foolishly that there might be some sort of quick resolution for my chronic condition, I made an appointment to see my doctor. It just took me three tries to type the word doctor, because apparently my digits decided to remain asleep. Anyhow, the next available appointment isn’t until a month from now, which means I may have to wait that long just to get a referral for allergy testing. I am no medical expert, but I know what is wrong: I have simply been a pussy for too long, afraid to actually take the final step and get allergy shots! Procrastination nips me noisily once again. The possibility of anaphylactic shock after said administration of shots is what inspires the most fear in me. I have to make child care arrangements every time I go to get a shot, because the wise doctors don’t think you can go into shock and take care of a two-year-old at the same time (go figure). This might be difficult, but I’m so miserable right now that I really don’t care. I haven’t been able to have dairy products for months because of the resultant phlegm. I don’t sleep well, and my hands itch profusely every time I touch my cats (I was lucky enough to develop an allergy to them, too). Indeed, it’s time to take the plunge. I think I’ll call the doctor for a telephone consult and try to schmooze an earlier referral out of her. After all, she treated me last year, when I thought I might be developing asthma (and yes, the asthma symptoms are starting to come back). I apologize for the crabby, extremely self-centered nature of this entry…I just feel like I would be a happier person if I slept and was able to have ice cream every once in a while.

The Terrific Two-Year Old Check Up

Violet had her 24-month check-up today. Contrary to my expectations, there was no head-spinning or spontaneous expulsion of pea soup. She did cry once the nurse appeared, and she kept knocking on the door and saying “all done, outside.” She also kept fiddling with the door handle, to no avail. The nurse took her weight, height and temperature, but unlike last time, the wresting match was replaced by whining. We were then taken to the examination room, and Violet was somewhat intrigued by the fire truck exam table with stairs leading to the top. My husband got her to climb up on the table, and through her tears, she applauded, and whined, “Yay! Good job.” This dour tone continued when Jerry spun her around in the doctor’s chair: I have never heard a less enthusiastic “Whee.” She recognized the doctor when he came in, and the tears continued. He asked polite questions from across the room for some time to calm her down. Jerry blew up a latex glove, and Violet was very distracted by the makeshift balloon. She was able to sit on Daddy’s lap during the examination, and she tolerated everything except for the ear check very well. She did try to run away at the immunization desk, but I really can’t blame her. Naturally, she screamed at unbearable decibel levels when the shot was administered, and attempted to kick the poor technician in the face. Ever polite, she managed to scream an “All done, bye-bye,” on her way out. By the time we reached the parking lot, the tears had stopped. Whew! I think some celebratory orange juice and finger painting are in order…

Love Thy Neighbor

I’ve heard what Jesus said about loving thy neighbor. For the most part, I think it’s sound advice. My question is: does this rule still apply when your neighbors have an argument that wakes you up at four in the morning??? The walls are thin, but give me a break, people…

I Need an Idiot’s Guide

So I’ve finally started writing my novel again. I only have a handful of pages so far, and even those need refining, so the amount of work in front of me is somewhat discouraging. I just need to take it a day at a time. The only way it will ever get done is if I keep plugging away at it—big, shocker, I know. In an interview with Amelie Gillette of The A.V. Club, p. June 7th, 2006, comedian Lewis Black contended that “Anybody who likes writing a book is an idiot. Because it's impossible, it's like having a homework assignment every stinking day until it's done.” Though it’s early on, I already wholeheartedly agree with this assertion. Guess it’s a good thing that I’m a nerd. And perhaps, an idiot.

Giving Up

My daughter woke up at 5am, which is two hours earlier than normal. At lunchtime, she had an explosive poop that temporarily adorned her back and the back of one of her legs. While I was running her a bath to rid her of the aforementioned feces, she peed on the carpet. She was good in the bath; but then she wanted to take one of her very leaky bath toys out of the tub with her. I explained several times why she couldn't take it to bed, before I finally lost my patience and threw it back into the tub. Violet proceeded to lose her mind: it was the worst tantrum I have ever seen her throw. I yelled at her repeatedly to stop because she kept trying to run off the bed. At one point, I actually had her calmed down. Then, she amused herself by kicking me in the stomach. Once in her crib, she kept requesting things that she knows she's not allowed to play with (like her ceramic piggy bank), and then screaming bloody murder when I wouldn't give them to her. She is finally napping, and I am officially giving up and going back to bed.

Changing the Channel

I just turned on CNN, and there’s yet another story regarding the upcoming presidential election. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to vote for any of these people, because I’m tired of looking at them already. On second thought, I’m not really that tired of looking at Barack Obama…

Crappy New Year

So it’s January 2nd and Violet just produced the most impressive craptastrophe of her toddler career thus far. It all began when she started throwing dry cat food into the water dish. When I went to pick her up, I noticed a rather pungent smell and a stain on the foot of one side of her pajamas. And I thought, “No way. Did she just poop all the way down her leg?” Of course she had. I gave her a bath, but not before I managed to get poop all over the comforter and myself. The most horrific task was reaching down the leg of the pajamas to turn them inside out before putting them in the washer. I have a strange sense of accomplishment because I managed *not* to throw up from the smell. Whoo-hoo.

Refuse to Resolve

I’m a negative person, so perhaps if I make refusals rather than resolutions, I won’t be doomed to failure. So this year, I refuse to tell myself that I will never succeed at anything. Though a tad unrealistic, I also refuse to make bad puns. I refuse to stay inside and let these walls drive me insane. And I refuse to write anything more about the subject, because typing with a hangover makes me a little motion sick for some reason.