You got some 'splainin' to do

Sunday night. The time is currently 2357. Or 11:57pm. Whichever floats your boat.

Normally...well...normally as in for the last two months exactly....this would not be a big deal. The being awake on a Sunday night at 2359 (11:59pm). Why?

Because I was unemployed.

My Monday mornings consisted of rolling out of bed with just enough time to pee, rub that crusty shit out of my eyes, put on pants, get the monkey ready for school, and roll out. Like a boss. Or baws. Whichever.

But this Monday morning? The one that's happening directly?

I gots me a job.

So why is it that it's 0002, and I'm awake? And not just awake. But flogging.

Oh holy hell my phone just corrected blogging to flogging.

Some parallels there maybe? Methinks yes.

Anyway. Blogging. From my phone even.

Because I can't sleeeeeeeep!

I'm not excited. No really. I'm not. I don't know what I'm walking into, why would I be excited? And I'm not nervous for the same reason.

Here's what I know:
I am going to be kick ass at this job.


But still...I'm awake. Blogging from my phone. In my bed. While the monkey snores next to me.


Now where did mommy put her special pills....

5.13.2011's.... Huh.

**Back story: the monkey was on the phone with her father, and mentioned that her Grandpa Larry had died, and was in Heaven with Jesus.  The following is the text exchange between him and I after the phone call ended**

Ex: Did someone die?  She said "papa and Lilly went to Jesus"
Me: Grandpa Larry. He died of cancer the day after Easter
Ex: I'm sorry to hear that. My condolences. Is she handling the loss okay?
Me:  It's hard for her to understand.  It's not tangible for her.  So she talks about it on occasion.  His picture is on my desk in the office, and she saw it while on the phone with you and thought she would bring it up.
Ex: Thanks for the info.  I wanted to be able to speak with her if she did ask questions.  Again, my condolences.
Me: We tell her he isn't sick any more because he's in Heaven with Jesus.  Same with a bunny that died at her daycare.  Miss Carol's bunny if it comes up as well.  Generally it's always brought up on the same conversation
Me: And now Grandpa Larry takes care of the bunny in Heaven

**This is where it gets weird**

Ex: Was there a duck also?
*crickets chirping
Me: Um. Not that I have heard...But sometimes she says her (invisible) baby chicken is dead...
Ex: Okay, maybe that was it.  She told me all about it being on the side of the road by your house and then with Jesus.  She said the stuffed animal, chick in the egg, you sent with her last time was to replace the dead one.
Me: I am cracking up right now.  I have no idea what that is supposed to mean...she got the baby chick in an egg for Easter... I think maybe she's just putting random thoughts together.  She's quite the little story teller.

So there you have it.  From dead cousins to dead chickens in one simple text exchange.

Also?  This is the most I have talked to the ex in text....well....ever?

So glad it could be about this.


Who's the Chuck Norris of gardening now?

Sprouts!  People!  We have sprouts!

I've been keeping my unemployed self busy the last week or so painting my office and getting it usable, which is another post in and of itself.

But first?  To quell the nay saying cries of "NO PICTURES NO HAPPEN."

On Saturday?  No.  Today is Saturday.  Or yesterday.  Whatever.  Not Saturday.  Guess it would have been Thursday?  Sure, we'll go with Thursday.

*Thursday* as I was breaking down my make shift office to move it into the actual office, I had to move my pellets of nothingness.  And after having spent two months of love and labor to get those little shit seeds to sprout and gotten return, I had resigned myself to tossing all 72 pellets of wasted energy into the trash.  I had a moment of silence for all the vegetable death that had occurred, and carried my starter tray outside to chunk that bitch in the trash.

And then?  The sun hit something inside the plastic cover just right.  Was that a hint of green I see?

I pop the lid, and sure enough!  A tiny little sad looking sprout!  A sprout, I say!

See that little guy?  He's going to be a big strong cherry tomato plant when he gets older.

So I glance over the rest of the tray, and I see this:
A tiny little sprout of Swiss Chard!  (what *IS* that?  seriously.)

And upon further inspection?  I see this:
Now, I'm not 100% sure what this little guy is gonna be when he grows up.  He'll either be cilantro or green peppers.  I'll know for sure when he gets bigger, but right now he's in that awkward phase where if he were a human fetus, he'd be a jelly bean.

So in a matter of seconds, that tray went from trash to the uterus of my garden.  And it was saved.  And all was right with the world.  Pro-life folks should love that little comparison.  Bumper sticker galore.

I left the tray sitting on the ledge of the future garden.  I haven't checked on it since yesterday, so I don't know if any other little buddies have popped up.  I'm hoping the warm sun will help incubate my other vegetables into sprouts as well.

So far I'm 3 for 72, and I'm hoping to improve my odds.

In related news, I have three baskets of strawberries that are popping like ker-azy.
I'm actually surprised I've got fruit already coming through.  Hopefully in the next week or so they'll get nice and red so Monkey can pick them.  She is such a huge fan of gardening that it'll be a shame if she can't see some results before she takes off for Texas for two months.

*Panic attack*

ANYWAY.  So picture proof of gardening success y'all.  Guess it did happen, huh?  WHAT'S UP NOW?


Ahem *cough, cough

Yes, yes, I'm still here.  I just do not have anything to talk about.

No seriously.  Let's go through the checklist, shall we?

Job front - still unemployed.  check.
Garden - still not growing.  not even a little bit.  check.
Running - haven't been since the last race.  check.
Weather - still cold and crappy.  check.

So yeah, you know.  Lots of good stuff rockin' over here.

Monkey leaves for Texas in a few days, so there's that.

I am totally not winning lately, gah.


Blank spots

There aren't really many words in my head right now, just a lot of pain.

Usually I love Easter.  No seriously.  I haven't really thought about it until just now, but I would have to say it's probably my favorite holiday.

But this year it's different.

I can't really say all I'm feeling.  Not because I don't want to, but because I literally don't know how to put into words the emotions.

I've been praying and reading a lot of Scripture.  Sometimes I'm afraid that maybe my prayers to take away the pain is what brought us to this point.  Mostly I hope that it's bringing comfort where it's needed.

And I wish I could do more.

Jesus replied, "You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand." John 13:7


It's not pot. Probably.

Two weeks.  It's been two weeks since I planted the first seeds.  And do I have sprouts?

No.  No I do not.

So I've decided to change directions a bit.

See, in Texas, tomato and cucumber plants, even strawberries, are flourishing and flowering.  Here in Misery, we are still in 40 degree weather.

This is foreign to me.

Also foreign?  The tornado drill (OMG I HOPE ITS A DRILL) that is happening right now.  Sirens and all.  I am writing this and resisting the urge to cower in the fetal position in my basement.

Basements are also foreign to me.

But back to the plants.

I was telling my grandmother that none of my seeds had sprouted.  She asked where I had them.  I said outside.  She said duh.  Not really, but she could have.  Basically, the weather here is still too arctic for anything to be motivated to sprout.  And understandably so.  I have a hard time getting out from under my covers in the morning.  Basically my veggies and I are a bit of the same.

So I've brought them inside and put a light on them, per Grandma's advice.
Yes, they are on my desk.  That's the only place I really have an adjustable light!  They are sitting on top of my printer, safely covered with an old towel.  And because I realize the light is stronger on one side, I'm turning it every 12 hours.

If this doesn't work?  I'm gonna be pissed.

Great. Now I'm going to die of Lyme Disease

** I actually wrote this on the 16th, which was...I dunno, awhile ago?  Just in case you care **

Since moving to this wonderful state of Misery, we seem to have suffered through more plagues than at any other time in my life.

First came the lice.

Oh sweet Jesus, the lice.

I've never dealt with lice before.  Managed to live my whole entire existence on this planet without being attacked by tiny little head bugs.  But we moved here, and BAM!  The Monkey gets lice.  And of course, since she had lice, *I* got lice.  And then my niece.  And my sister.

In case you're unaware, the Monkey has looong hair, down to her cute little butt.  And it's the most beautiful color and texture.  Which most of the time?  Is awesome.  When you add lice to the mix, you pretty much want to die.  Not her so much.  ME.  First doing the trial and error of what crap actually works, each trial taking any where from 4 hours to 2 days.  Then once you find something that works, you spend the next two weeks combing out hair with tiny little combs that serve two purposes.  One: to comb all the nits and nastiness out.  Two: to completely break every strand of hair on your head.  So it's awesome in all kinds of ways.

That's my sister and I, doing the lice tango on my head.  So. Much. Fun.  Seriously.  Let's never ever do that again, mkay?

Here's something you should know about me.  I require vision assistance.  Glasses.  Contacts.  Whatever.  Most recently?  Been rocking the glasses.  My contacts were bothering me know what?  Not important.  What is important is that I've been wearing my glasses of late.

Which brings us to today.  When I shower, obviously the glasses come off.  I don't know why, but generally I take my glasses off before I get undressed to get into the shower.  So when I took off my pants this evening, I saw a dark little thing on my leg, and ASSUMED it was lint from my jeans.

You know what happens when you assume, right?  Gah.

I get into the shower, start the ritual, and get to the part where I shave my legs.  Generally this is not something I do on a regular basis.  Mostly out of laziness.  Why do I need to shave when 1)  it's four freakin' degrees outside and I need all the help I can get keeping warm, and 2) who exactly is it that I am shaving for? The four year old?  Doubtful.  Plus I have the added benefit of leg hair that grows in a new direction every two square inches, so shaving is a little bit like navigating Pacman through a game of...well...Pacman.

Anyway, leg shaving.  The little dark thing is still there.  Except now that I am bent over to shave, so I am closer to the dark thing.  And it doesn't look fuzzy like lint would.  It's more.. a ball.  For a brief moment, I think maybe I had scratched my leg and that was blood that had hardened into some sort of weird statue.  It happens.  Except this was kind of large.  Also?  When I ran my hand across it, IT DIDN'T FEEL LIKE A CLUMP OF BLOOD.  It was kind of...smooth...and...rubbery?  I dunno, just didn't feel right.

So I flicked it.

Anyone experienced in tick-ology knows that those suckers bury themselves in deep.  And flicking wouldn't generally have worked.  And if it did work, only the body would come out, but the head would still be stuck in there.  Of all the stories I've heard about ticks and not dying and you can squish the body but the head will grow it back and you can't kill the head because it's made to be flat and slice-y so it can get into you in the first place, I have no idea which ones are true.  Before, it never mattered.  BECAUSE I NEVER HAD A TICK BEFORE.  And I'm sorry, I'm not going to go on an internet tick crusade to hear the horror stories to figure out which ones are true.

But the tick that I flicked came out.  (I'm sorry, am I channeling Dr. Seuss?)  And landed on the bathroom wall.  Only I still didn't realize it was a tick at this point.  So I get down on my butt ass naked hands and knees in the shower to gander at that thing I just popped off my leg.

And yeah.  It's a tick.  *shivers

I don't know if it was coming up for air (do they even do that?) at the exact moment I was flicking or what, but all of it popped out.  Thankfully.  So I scooped it into one of the Monkey's cups she keeps in the shower (sorry, kiddo!), and flushed that bad boy down the toilet.  Twice.

Then I went into a full on TSA search of the rest of my body to make sure it didn't bring any of his buddies along for the free meal.  And prayed like crazy that I wouldn't find one because how on earth was I going to get it out of my hair or other body parts I couldn't access as easily and OH MY GOD they record 911 calls and this one would make the news.

I didn't find any more, by the way.

Between the lice, the tick, and the snowpacolypse, I'm reading you loud and clear, Misery.  And believe me, I don't want to be here any more than you want me.  Also?  I super appreciate giving me one day of 80 degree weather before shoving low 30's down my throat.  That's the best.  Thanks for that.

But maybe we can call a truce and you can call off your passive aggressive attempts to kill me and I'll stop bashing you on a daily basis.  Like probably cut it back to once a week or so.

After all, we do have at least 6 and a half more years together.  :-/