The funeral that wasn't sad, unless getting really drunk makes you sad

taken at my dad's funeral, held as a private event at his favorite bar

It's hard to be sad when your weekend involves sifting cremains into a scotch bottle with a kitchen funnel, drinking scotch and beer on a boat in the Gulf of Mexico at 9 a.m., seeing friends and family that you haven't seen in years, eating the best seafood available anywhere in the world (for real) and cleaning up puke (not mine) in the car after the "funeral."

The Vieaus, it's how we roll.

Happy Fall - Blog Post No. 900 (yowza)

The nitty gritty crap of real life has been interfering with my ability to enjoy the good things. And there are so many good things going on that have been pushed to the back burner. The change of season is in full swing here in the Pacific Northwest, with highs in the 60s for the rest of this week. I love fall. It always makes me nostalgic with memories of high school football games and French Quarter Halloweens.

An update on my brood...

Maggy's wedding was a raging success. We danced, danced, danced all night long. Photos coming soon. Prepare to be dazzled by the incredible photography work of Amy.



Taylor is still doing his thing in Santa Barbara, glass blowing and skateboarding. He came home for a quick summer visit. That boy still cracks me up, even if he might look a little scary sometimes.

Erinna is at UW in Seattle, attending rush week. I'll go up this weekend to be with her on Bid Day, where I will capture every exciting moment of the start of her Greek life with my iPhone, much to her chagrin.

Carlie has started seventh grade with NO DRAMA (hope I didn't just jinx that). And she's not too old to go out and play in the fall leaves. Thank God.

Book Giveaway Winner!

Thanks to my 12-year-old random number generator, we have a lucky winner in the book giveaway. Congratulations, Cat! Send me your address and I'll get your info to the publisher lickety split.

____________________________

I'm having one of those life moments where I have lots of things to say, but no time to say them. Work is insane. Carlie's homework load is insane. My brain is overflowing with randomosity. And I have some family shit going down that will make for interesting blog fodder if I ever have the balls to talk about it out loud.

In the words of the great governator... I'LL BE BACK.

It's good to be needed... right?

I am indispensible to the smooth running of my household. I perform tasks that apparently no one else is capable of. Kind of like I'm a super hero, or something.

For example, I am the only one here who knows how to bring in the mail.

I possess the power to replace the toilet paper. This is a magical skill that few others possess.

Without me, we would no longer be able to put trash in the trash can, because no one else knows how to put a new bag in when the trash is taken out.

And, Dear Lord, imagine the horror if my family were deprived of cold drinking water. Without me, the empty water carafe would sit in the fridge, empty, which is how I usually find it when I want a cold glass of water.

So tell me, what what makes you irreplacable in your homestead?

Thanksgiving Travels

We're leaving in the morning (theoretically*) to go to Bend/Sun River for Thanksgiving, to celebrate with friends (theoretically**) and family and enjoy the snow (theoretically***) without me having to do the bulk of the cooking.

Unfortunately, the weather God are not shining down on us, unless "shining down" includes dumping snow, snow, snow and more snow, albeit not on us directly, but on the route that we need to travel to make it to our destination.

My husband, born and raised in Chicago, land of ice and snow, assures me he is fully capable of driving us over a mountain and through a blizzard. Myself, born and raised in New Orleans, land of sun and humidity and the occasional hurricane, is planning to drink to excess tonight so that I can sleep through the drive tomorrow.

And just to keep it exciting, Carlie drove out with her uncle today, so deciding to cancel our trip due to inclement weather is not a particularly good option, what, with her being the overly sensitive little flower that she is.

So when you're putting your turkey in the oven, think of me braving the elements on the road (i.e. sleeping in the passenger seat). And when you're mashing your potatoes, send good vibes as I (Tim) am chaining up on the side of the road on a treacherous mountain pass.

Happy Holidays. Are we having fun yet?

*if the world has not ended in snowpocalypse 2010

**the friends have already bailed on the trip, but the family? diehards

***I hate snow

Family Fun Day. Really, why do I bother?

We just waited over 20 minutes in line for lunch. At Ikea. And then? Left without shopping. Because? Carlie had a melt down. A. Melt. Down. The girl is almost 12 years old and the situation would be comical if it were just a tad less tragic.

If you have young children, especially daughters, I will warn you now. The terrible two's are a JOKE compared to the onset of puberty. Seriously. Because this pre-teen shit? Is the pits.

So now I am home alone, our day of family fun cancelled, and everyone banished from the house. Carlie's beef (today) is with her Dad (mostly) and her sister (a little bit), so I sent them out to "work it out," where in "sent them out" means came home from Ikea, was first out of the car and into the house, where I dead bolted the door and texted Tim 'ALL OF YOU NEED TO GO AWAY RIGHT NOW'. So they're at Erinna's soccer game, and no one is allowed back into the house until they have become a happy family unit once again.

I will take my solitude anyway I can find it.

Yeah, so, I'm shallow... WHATEVER

Jeez, you guys sure know how to make a person feel shallow with your lofty ambitions of traveling with your children and buying the world a Coke. But guess what? I still want an iPad. And you don't know. Maybe while I'm only working part time, I'll be knitting caps for the hungry in my spare time. Take that, Judgey McJudgerson.

Speaking of knitting, I've whipped up some pretty cute stuff in my not-blogging time. Behold the wonder of my magic needles...

The strawberry hat... my staple tried-and-true baby gift

An acorn hat, first time and loved the results

And the Baby Yoda sweater in a pink silk blend. So lush.

What sparked the sudden knit-a-thon? We have a new addition to our family... Chloe, my gorgeous new baby niece. Behold the wonder of my sister's magic..... erm.... parts....

Could you just die? Baby!

There's another impending addition slated to join our family in August 2011. But I ask you, what exactly is one supposed to knit when your oldest daughter sends you a photo of this?

Yikes!

Why my child is an only child when she actually has three siblings

I posted one of Erinna's senior photos on my last blog post, and commented that I rarely post about my "big" kids because they don't like it. Really, I'm not playing favorites. They Do. Not. Like. It. Sometimes I feel guilty, not on my blog, but in real life. I have real life acquaintances who think Carlie is an only child. And Carlie kind of functions like an only child. Except she has three siblings. When you have big kids and little kid(s), it gets complicated.

Also, it's next to impossible to get a decent family photo with adult children living hither and yon. So I thought I'd post up a couple of my favorite family photos, wherein family photo = you take what you can get.

These are in completely random order, because I have no control over my own blog. Thanks, Blogger.

This is what our current family configuration mostly consists of: Me, Tim, Carlie, August 2010

Why just three of us? Erinna is living with her bio mom and stepdad about 20 minutes away, plus has no interest in our lame family outings. Taylor is in Santa Barbara partying like a rock star, or make that extreme sport/skate star. And Maggy and Iris are in Houston, where Maggy is two semesters (squee!) away from finishing her AA.

Christmas 2009, The year of the homemade snuggy. This is the last time Taylor was home.

May 2010, two out of three sisters was the best we could do.

June 2010, one auntie and one tired niece.



Christmas 2007, the last time I had all of these people in the same place at the same time.

Christmas 2008, almost everyone home for Christmas.

August 2010, all the girls, except for Iris.

Like I said, you take what you can get.

Jealous

My nest. Emptier, but not quite empty. Yet.

In unrelated events, recently two of my friends posted old photos of their fabulous college-aged selves with their now-spouses. And it made me jealous --

When Tim and I met, I had two kids, he had one, and by our first wedding anniversary, we'd already welcomed Carlie to the family.

-- And I found myself envious of those friends and their days of being young and in love and not a parent and enjoying that time together and having it to look back on in later years when life becomes harried and crazy with kids and schedules and drop offs and pick ups and OMG how did this become my life. In my envious fantasies, I imagine meaningful, knowing glances as you pass each other in the hall, calling out, "I'll be home by 6:00, don't forget to drop her off at dance," and having those memories of way back when to pull from when you're looking for something to hold on to.

All of our memories, Tim and I, are of a family. We were never a couple. That's the way it is when it's your second time around and you've already lived a life. It's not a bad thing, it's just a different thing. And thank God we're old enough to have the empty nest in our near-future (seven years!), and will still be young enough to enjoy it when it happens.

Carlie is currently obsessed with my high school year book and old photos of mom and dad as teenagers, which only adds fuel to my what if I knew you then fire. Of course, the reality is, things would not have worked out between this troublemaking chick and that churchgoing boy circa the 1980s. But still, it's fun to think about. Maybe I'll write a story...

Meanwhile, I can't get enough of Swell Season this week. I don't know why.

Busy Busy Busy

I've finally got some pictures off of the camera and ready to post of all of our crazy Thanksgiving fun.

This is the first year that I haven't hosted dinner in quite a while. As a result, I found myself oddly relaxed on Thanksgiving Eve, as opposed to my usual maniacal prep frenzy. So Carlie and I hosted a little Craftapalooza gathering. The goal was to make gifts for friends, and our three crafts were to be polymer clay charms, Scrabble tile necklaces and glass magnets.

The polymer clay charms were a HUGE success, and no one was interested a bit in my Scrabble tiles or glass magnets. Here's a small sampling of the charms that Carlie made. And sadly, I don't think I got any pictures of the charms made by the other kiddoes.

We've got a peeled banana, lollipop, two slices of watermelon and a cupcake on a zipper pull.

Slices of pumpkin pie, a couple of cupcakes and a few of Carlie's "freestyle" creations that I could not possibly name if I tried. I think I see a couple of bananas in there, too.
When Erinna came home and saw how cute the charms were, she wanted to make some too. But she put hers on key chains. Here we've got an ice cream cone, cupcake and cinnamon roll.
We made a fall necklace for our Thanksgiving hostess with a slice of pumpkin pie and a fall leaves Scrabble tile on a rust-colored silk cord.
A cupcake necklace made by friend Katie.

On Thanksgiving Day, I made a butternut squash chipotle bisque and cupcakes. Easy peasy! I also brought to the dinner rosemary potato rolls from a new bakery that opened up two days before Thanksgiving three blocks from my house. So delicious.

We made 48 mini cupcakes and the girls decorated them with various fallish stuff. Some of these are supposed to be turkeys. Good luck figuring out which ones they are.
In the girls' defense, they didn't have much to work with, because when they asked Tim to pick up Candy Corn at the store (for tail feathers), he brought home Mike & Ike candies instead. ???

The bisque was delicious and is a pretty easy recipe. I highly recommend it. I'm pasting it in at the bottom of the post. Unfortunately, because I don't really *think* things through, I didn't realize that I needed a stick blender. And I don't have one. So after making this giant vat of soup, I then had to dirty up every bowl in my house moving the bisque out of the stock pot, and blending it in the pitcher blender, pitcher, by pitcher. I wouldn't recommend that.

With so few Thanksgiving dinner duties, and with a late supper planned, I had time to put together a little brunch for me, Tim and the girls. It was tasty. Deviled eggs are kind of a Thanksgiving tradition around here. I make them as an appetizer for the big dinner, but my kids eat them before people arrive. I freak out and eventually someone cries. Fun! I am a barrel of laughs during the holidays. Seriously.

We all shared what we were thankful for this year:

Me: Being Healthy.

Erinna: Technology.

Carlie: Salami.

Tim: Lady GaGa.

As you can see, I am surrounded by weirdos.

A few days after Thanksgiving, we had Tim's birthday to celebrate. I ordered a cake with frosting on the side from the bakery, and the girls decorated it. Semi-homemade. Yay!

I can promise you, the bakery did not give us this Tiffany blue icing. That is a Carlie creation. And do you like the tealight in the cake? Ghetto who?


It was a busy week. And I haven't even gotten to the photos or videos of Carlie at her dance graduation ball, which was tonight. She came home from school Friday not feeling well. She's been lethargic all weekend and I am pretty sure she has a sinus infection. But we paid $150 for three tickets to the ball and she had a new dress, so off to the ball we went. She dozed in the car and whined the entire way there (30 minute drive), then danced her two dances flawlessly, then sat in my lap, crying, begging to go home. Stage mother who? Details to come.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH CHIPOTLE BISQUE

Recipe from Marcela Valladolid, "Fresh Mexico"

Prep time: 50 minutes

Cook time: 1 hour, 15 minutes

Serves 6 to 8

Notes: The prep time does not include the cool time for the squash after it's roasted. The cook time for the onion and carrot overlaps the cook time for the squash. The cook time for the bisque overlaps the cook time for the seeds.

INGREDIENTS

1 medium butternut squash

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided use

1 1/2 cups chopped onion

1/2 cup chopped celery

1/2 cup chopped carrot

2 garlic cloves, minced

4-6 cups chicken broth

3 teaspoons minced, canned chipotle in adobo, divided use

1/2 cup Mexican crema or sour cream

Salt, fresh ground pepper

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut squash in half lengthwise and scoop out seeds, discarding the stringy pulp. Put the seeds in a sieve and rinse. Set aside.

Grease a glass baking dish with 1 tablespoon oil, then place the squash in the dish, cut side down. Pierce all over with a fork and roast 45 minutes or until tender. Let cool.

Heat remaining oil in a large, heavy pot over medium-high heat. Sauté onion, celery and carrot for 10 minutes. Add garlic; cook 2 minutes more.

Scoop the flesh of the squash into the pot and stir. Add 4 cups broth and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes or until the vegetables are very tender.

Meanwhile, toast the reserved squash seeds in a small pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally until crunchy, about 30 minutes. Season heavily with salt and set aside.

Purée the soup in batches in a blender, adding more broth to get the desired consistency.

In a separate bowl, stir 1 teaspoon of the minced chipotle into the crema. Season with salt and pepper.

Stir the remaining 2 teaspoons chipotle into bisque and ladle into soup bowls. Top each with a dollop of cream and a sprinkling of seeds.

Per serving using 5 cups of low-sodium chicken broth: 177 cal.; 4 g pro.; 23 g carb.; 9 g fat (3 sat., 5 monounsat., 1 polyunsat.); 9 mg chol.; 633 mg sod.; 5 g fiber; 7 g sugar; 44 percent calories from fat.

Celebrate good times... come on

Honestly, have you ever seen a cuter musical trio?

We have had a whirlwind weekend of celebration and laughter and FOOD, which included no laundry, no proofreading and FOOD. It is going to be really hard to get back into the groove of reality tomorrow morning, especially since it'll be pitch black when the alarm goes off in the a.m.

Friday night we had dinner with friends. Carlie had a sleepover, so we had a kid free night, which was quite nice, even though we didn't really go out and do much with it. But we enjoyed a great meal with good friends, which is the perfect way to kick off the weekend. I even managed to WORK and WORK OUT on Friday, so again, a good day/night.

Saturday I went with the best brother-in-law ever to see "Wicked." We took the girls, and everyone loved every minute of it. We went to the 2 p.m. matinee, and from there it was RUSH HOME for a 6 p.m. 50th birthday party for the husband of a great friend. It was an awesome party, with delicious FOOD, fabulous company and just a joyful celebration of being alive.

Sunday morning we bid farewell to the best brother-in-law ever as he headed back to Bend, left the girls camped out with laptops and junk food and Tim and I went on a scouting mission. We're considering selling out house and moving to something (1) smaller and (2) closer to his office (which is about 30 miles from home right now, which is a bitch of a commute). The scouting mission was not successful, because as it turns out? I kind of have expensive taste. Of course, the scouting mission did have the oppose effect in that I am now longing for a beautiful house on the Clackamas or Sandy River, preferably with some acreage, which is the EXACT OPPOSITE of downsizing and saving money and blah blah blah. Also? Every time I think about the economy and our finances and the 50% loss of income that will be hitting us in June, I loathe and detest GWB even more. But let's not go there now, as I am recapping my beautiful weekend of fun.

After our scouting mission, we came home, grabbed the girls, and headed over to Portland for yet another feast/birthday celebration, this time for another brother-in-law, and this time complete with a Happy Birthday musical performance by the most adorable trio of all time, including two violins and one bongo player.

Now I'm tucked into bed at 8:30 p.m., ready to get caught up on Lost and 24. If I can see the television through the mounds of laundry. And tomorrow it's back to reality, which will include getting on the scale to assess the massive damage done this weekend.

Haves and Have Nots

Tim and I went grocery shopping at Trader Joe's Saturday. Unfortunately, we did not bring with us either a list or a responsible adult. As a result, we still do not have: bread, eggs, milk, sugar, cold-cuts and other sack lunch type foods for Carlie (who brown bags it every day because her school has no cafeteria).

However, while foraging for breakfast foods this morning, I discovered that we do have: two tubs of creamy goat cheese, four bags of croutons, six opened and partially used boxes of hot cocoa mix,  eight opened and partially used salad dressings and two unopened bags of craisins.

And while not nearly as exciting as finding this in your fridge, I do have three tubs of not-butter, two completely empty and one half-full. The completely empty ones? Still in the fridge. Why? Because I do not live alone is why.

What's on your shopping list this week?

PS: We are now officially OUT OF TOILET PAPER. Shit. No pun intended.

TAX MAN UPDATE: We did pay quarterly taxes, but apparently not enough. Also being brought to my attention, I made 10k less in 2008 than I did in 2007. The fact that I was the primary caregiver for an infant might be a contributing factor.

ALSO: I contemplate divorcing every time we do taxes. And when budgeting for Christmas shopping. Twice a year near divorce moments, that's not so bad overall, is it?

I will cut you

I was reading a blog post yesterday by Mel at Actual Unretouched Photo. She made a list of the aspects of motherhood that she will not miss when her children grow up. And as I read the list I was all, uh-huh, and me too, and amen sister. And then I got to No. 6.

>>6) Losing all the scissors in the house.

And I was like, OH MY GOD! DO YOU MEAN IT IS NOT JUST ME? Because the losing of the scissors? That is one of my biggest freak out triggers right there. Seriously.

Especially the kitchen scissors. I like to keep a pair of scissors in the kitchen, in a slot on the knife block. In fact, I do believe this slot on the knife block was INVENTED for keeping SCISSORS right there. I have scissors on my desk, scissors in my knitting bag, scissors in my sewing box and scissors in my bathroom. I have scissors in my junk drawer and scissors in Carlie's homework supply drawer. I have scissors that I keep in the glove box of my car.

But the kitchen scissors? Those are my favorite scissors. They have a special SCISSOR KEEPING SLOT which means they're always right where you want them to be. And the knife block thing looks all neat and orderly when they are there. And when they are not there? It is not neat and orderly and there is a giant gaping BLACK HOLE of scissors-less-ness that mocks me and makes me want to turn lights on and off and wash my hands. Repeatedly. Not really. But kind of.

But do you think the kitchen scissors are EVER in the SCISSOR SLOT where they belong? Why, no, as a matter of fact, they NEVER are. Because my family? Full of suck is what they are.

And my sucky family? They think the whole kitchen scissors thing is really HYSTERICAL. And in fact, these are the scissors that are currently residing in my special scissors keeping slot of my knife block.

And in case the GINORMOUSNESS of these scissors is lost on you in this photo, here's a shot with a can of diet coke for perspective.

They are freaking big. And kind of awesome. In a clown shoes kind of way.

And these scissors? They never go missing. Suck on that, family.

Because you asked...

Aunt Carlie, circa December '07

Yes, I am a grandmother. I know? Right? 

You're, like, "OMG, but she's so young! and cool! That's messed up!" 

And I'm all, I know? Right? And also? My feelings aren't the least bit hurt that you haven't read every single word each of my 400,000,000 blog posts and already knew this. No. I'm not. 

So how did this travesty against nature happen? Well, at the ripe old age of 41 years (me), when I was still considering myself to be of prime new mom age (except for that whole hysterectomy thing) and contemplating adoption in that vague kind of "maybe we should think about looking into the options" kind of way, my 19-year-old daughter got pregnant. What can I say? It happens. She lived with us through the pregnancy and the delivery, and a lot of baby daddy drama ensued. She had a beautiful and perfect baby girl named Iris in September '07. And baby daddy drama ensued. 

Maggy and Iris lived with us until July '08, and the baby daddy drama continued. And then Maggy fell in love with a boy in Houston (where Maggy's dad lives) and decided to move. 

So for nine months, I was a hands-on grandmother, providing childcare while Maggy went to school. And Carlie was a hands-on aunt, but more like a doting and completely smitten big sister. It was Carlie, Iris and I, day in and day out, taking Carlie to and picking Carlie up from school, attending her basketball games, going to her school functions. We were a unit of three while Maggy attended college classes and worked hard to try to position herself to be a self-sufficient single mother. And not to leave Tim out, because every night he came home from work and went straight for that baby girl. She was our baby, Tim, Carlie and I, and we couldn't love her more.

And then Maggy took Iris and left. And our world imploded. And we cried and cried and the level of suck around here was unbelievable. And for a while, I truly thought that Carlie would not get over the heartache. But she did. And I thought that I would never stop being angry at Maggy. But I have.

It's true. Life goes on, times heals all wounds, yada yada yada. We survived. And Maggy is doing great in her new life, and Iris is thriving. And the only problem with this whole scenario is the whole being across the country thing. That and the ever present and continuing baby daddy drama.

So that's the story of how someone so young and hip as I became a grandmother. I know! Right?

Off to a good start

It's 8:00 a.m. on January 1, 2009. Happy New Year!

My husband just left the house to go help a friend with a project, wiring or rewiring or some such manly type project. They anticipate it will take all day.

Carlie spent the night with a friend last night, and called to ask if she could stay over all day long because they're going to do many fabulous things today.

And the big kids? Off doing their own thing(s) on sleepovers of their own.

Which leaves me home alone. Have I  mentioned that being home alone is one of my favorite things in the entire world? Well, it is.

So I am cozy in bed with breakfast (chocolate torta left over from last night's dinner) and a diet coke (don't judge me!), watching Tivo'ed episodes of "Fringe" with my laptop on my, um, lap, a kitty at my feet and the electric blanket on high.

Hello, 2009. Where've you been all my life?

awesome

Best christmas gift ever. My dad sent a check... And spelled my name wrong. The name I am pretty sure he had a hand in giving me. He did sign the card this year "Love, Pops." Last year he signed the card "From Jerry Vieau."

If you knew my dad, you would understand why we can laugh at this kind of stuff, which could be considered tragic in other families. Its our own special brand of dysfunction.

Happy Christmas, Dear Internet, Happy Christmas to you

Quick post before I go WAKE MY CHILDREN UP for Christmas morning. Seriously. I have been the only one up since 6 a.m. and it's now pushing 8:30. Come on, kids, jeez! I've got things to do.

Christmas day agenda: breakfast with friends at 10 a.m. Church at noon, where Carlie is not only singing, but wearing her angel regalia from the school play. She says the choir director told her to. I did not get this memo. I am envisioning a choir of kids singing at noon in their normal choir outfits of black skirt/pants and white shirt, and Carlie, as an angel. Which would actually be kind of fabulous in a LOOK AT ME kind of way.

Later, dinner at Tim's brother's house, which will be divine because he and his wife are foodies and always put on the best spreads.

Our party was a happening scene. A happening scene of which I took NOT ONE SINGLE PHOTOGRAPH because I was busy being the hostess with the mostess. The nasty weather kept some guests away, so we ended up with 34 guests, plus my tribe of five, for a total of 39 mouths to feed and hollies to jolly. It was a fab time.

I leave you with my most favorite Christmas photograph of all time. Carlie Belle, circa 1999, just prior to celebrating her first birthday.

Yes, those are lumps of coal.

Happy Christmas, Dear Internet. I heart you so.

The C Word

My dad had another consultation at the sarcoma center at MD Anderson, a top notch cancer research hospital in Houston. His prognosis is not good. We've spent two days pumping him for details and basically what we've learned from my dad is that "it's the kind of cancer that starts with an M."

Great. The M cancer. Let me google that.

My brother went to the appointment with my dad, which is fabulous because, hello, we want to know what is going on and check the above paragraph to know why getting info from dad is a challenge.

My brother cleared it all up for us. "No, it doesn't start with an M. It starts with an L. I think."

Awesome. 

Hey, you can either laugh or cry, right?

So we don't really know what we are dealing with, but whether it starts with an L or an M, we do know the prognosis is not good. My dad is 70. He has a great attitude. He's ready to fight if there's a chance of beating it but he's also being realistic and talking about quality of life vs. fighting an ultimately losing battle if he can't handle the chemo, which the doctors think could be a possibility. 

And we're talking about taking a trip to the beach, the whole family, which we did a couple of summers ago. That's how dad would like to spend his time, "drunk and at the beach." That's a quote.

Today is Tim's birthday. Because Tim does not read my blog, I do not feel compelled to write an ode to love for him on his birthday.

In fact, here's a little peek into what he thinks about my blog:

TIM: I don't have any clean socks.

ME: So?

TIM: Ever since you started that blog, there's never any clean laundry.

ME:  Eff off.

TIM: Stupid blog. That's all you do. Blog, blog, blog.

ME: Eff off.

Later that night, as I try to engage my husband in the blogosphere by introducing him to a blog that is not mine.

ME: Hon, check out this blog. This is really funny.

TIM: WHAT THE HELL? ARE YOU BLIND? THAT WAS A FLAGRANT FOUL!!

ME: No, really, come on, check it out. You'll love it.

TIM: OH, CHRIST! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT??

ME: Okay, then, never mind.

**************************************

I did bake him a giant chocolate chip cookie cake, though, even if he doesn't read my blog.

The Sucky McSuck Suck Post aka My Pity Party

My son is a sophomore at Clark College, a community college here in Vancouver. It's a sweet set up, because it's blocks from home, he can walk or ride his bike (he doesn't have a car and hell, no, is not taking mine). He can live at home, car-less, yet still be quite independent, so it works out really well. 

But my son, you see, has inherited my crazy. One day he is all, I can't wait to transfer to Evergreen (a university in Olympia) and get a B.S. in ecology. And the next day he is all, school is crap, I hate school, I am totally quitting. (And then I remind him that the free room/board deal expires upon school completion, whether you finish or quit, and he shuts up).

And me? I am one day all, I need to grow my business. I want more clients. I need to work more hours closer to home.  And the next day I am all, where can I cut the budget so I can quit work and stay home and work sucks and wah wah wah.

See a trend?

Yeah, neither of us knows what we want. Or more accurately, we just want different things on any given day, and what we want one day may have no relevance whatsoever to what we want the next day. Take my word for it, it's not an easy way to go through life.

My school experience can be broken down into five stints: (1) junior college-quit (2) community college-AA (3) university-BA (4) grad school-quit and (5) court reporting school-certification. That's five different jaunts through school, each time with a completely different focus and major that was totally unrelated to anything I had done in school before. Fickle, much?

I don't know where I'm going with this. Just that I've lost my build the business momentum, and I need to get it back, because retirement right now is not a realistic option. It doesn't help that I am sick as a dog and have to work again today. It doesn't help that my son's semester is wrapping up and I am pretty sure he has been keeping some dirty little grade secrets that are about to come to light. 

And it certainly doesn't help that today is the 10-year anniversary of my mom's death. Or as we call it around here, her deathiversary. I can't believe it's been 10 years since I've talked to my mom. It's surreal. I wrote a rather long retelling of the events surrounding her death (long battle with cancer, died three weeks before Carlie (her namesake) was born, flying cross country four times in two weeks at 8-1/2 months pregnant), but it's sad and morose and I don't feel ready to post it here yet, if ever.

Even though it has been 10 years, most crappy things in my life still come back to "I want my mom." I don't feel good, I want my mom. My kid is being a creep, call mom, she'll know what to do. Need to convert pints to quarts for a recipe? Ask mom, she'll know. Ten years, and I still think this way, and then, BAM, get hit with the reality that there's no mom to ask. I'm the mom now. And I am not up to the task nine days out of ten.

Goals for the day:

1. Get through work this afternoon spreading as few of my germs as possible.

2. No crying jags.

3. Help Taylor complete his school registration, even if he's having an "I quit" day.

4. Polish mock up of postcard incorporating great feedback I have received (thanks).

5. Stop beating myself up for being sick and not running and get over my irrational fear of gaining 25 lb in two days if I don't stick to my running schedule.

6. Nap after work.

7. Feel good enough to go to the Johnny Depp movie screening tonight. 

Seven simple goals. Wish me luck. If I convince myself that Johnny Depp will be at the movie screening tonight and that his career is riding on my feedback, maybe I'll make it. The power of Johnny -- never underestimate it.