Shit.

03/12/2006-05/16/2007

"Mama, I think something's wrong with Golden."

Yesterday was a very tough day for Dylan. It was the very first thing in the morning when Dylan discovered Golden at the top of his bowl. He was the very first living being in Dylan's life which had died.

Dylan spent the majority of the day sitting next to me, attempting to choke back his tears. He understood what the meaning of "dead" was. He said that Golden made him happy, and he was the greatest pet ever.

The only problem I had was trying to find something on tv which wouldn't remind him of his loss. While we watched some kid's show, guess what the brave children were "trying to eat?" Sushi. Okay, let's watch cartoons instead. Oh great, it's the show "The Wonder Pets!" The episode? "The Wonder Pets Save the Dolphin." I ended up letting Dylan play Nintendo.

We waited for Mark to come home from work. Dylan knew that we would have to bury him, but he didn't want to let go of him. Dylan wanted to keep him in the house forever, but when he resigned to burying him, he chose a spot in my garden, underneath the living room window. He liked knowing that Golden was near to where Dylan was.

Mark scooped Golden out (we had put a lovely yellow and white cloth over his bowl until then), wrapped him in paper towels, and gently placed Golden in a tiny box that he made. Dylan and I decided to draw pictures to put in the box with him. Tiny crayon pictures of little red fish with smiles surrounded by hearts brought on a fresh set of new tears.

Dylan put on his sneakers and my raincoat, flipped the hood onto his head, and stood in the garden with only his little legs showing. As the day's rain stopped for five minutes, we gathered around a tiny hole in the garden, placed Golden's box in, said our good-byes, covered him up, and placed a nice stone on top so we would always know where Golden was.

Yes, I know this seems all so dramatic. I was crying by the time we were done. Mark sarcastically asked if I thought I was going to "pull through" on this one. Asshole.

In true burial traditions, we went out to eat and celebrate Golden's life, and remember our favorite things about him....at McDonald's. On Friday we will go out to get a new fish. I think two days of bereavement is sufficient for little Golden. Dylan wants to get the new fish a new castle, because "that castle is Golden's house."

Bye, little buddy.

Slick Move

It's winter. (duh) During this time of year, my skin is in shambles. My hands, elbows, and knees suffer the most. In order to prevent my skin from completely peeling off of my entire body, I decided to slather lotion on consistently. While I thought it would do the trick, it didn't. The lotion couldn't compare to the cold air, wind, and electric heat. Obviously, I have to step it up a bit. Vaseline. Every night before I go to bed, I have started to grease myself up like a little, sweaty pig in hopes that it would work. Guess what? It did. Not only was my skin adhering to my body as it should, my skin is sooo, very soft. Very nice. So, if it does wonders for my skin, it should work wonders for my scalp and hair, right?

Are you laughing?

Yeah you are. Thanks for the compassion, jerks.

Four days after my little experiment, I have not been able to leave the house without a hat on. Vaseline is nearly impossible to get out of hair. What an ass. I have gone through two boxes of cornstarch and a bottle of Dawn. While my hair isn't as bad as it originally was, I am still able to take the rubber band out of my ponytail and still have my hair maintain the same shape.

So, let this be a lesson to all of you out there. And, if you're snickering at me because you "could have told me that," well, then you should have.

Yes, Mark took pictures, but I am not too sure that I want them posted.

Mmm, good.

Last night I heard a loud "pop" coming from outside. It sounded like a BB gun. I thought that our insanely frigid weather may have caused a light bulb to explode. I got to wondering what kind of light bulbs people use in Alaska. I would figure it out the next day.

Anyway, this morning when I went out to start the car so we wouldn't freeze to death by the time we got to the bank, I was surprised by a huge mess in my car.

Apparently unopened cans of Diet Pepsi have a cold tolerance of about 5 Degrees before they explode.

There were sparkling, no-calorie goodness in forms of icicles, hanging from my windshield. The soda was frozen over the entire face of my dash, my seat, doors, call phone charger... everything.

I was too pissed to take a picture. Sorry.

Kill me. Please.

I've started my online marketing class. I am thoroughly convinced that I am surrounded by idiots. This pretty much sums it all up. In an online discussion, the instructor asked us to give our definition of an "exchange." Along with it, we were asked to give a non-business example of an exchange. Here's one of the responses:

"Exchange- Is the transfer of products or service for the same value that will satify the party or person who will be exchaning the items or service.That's a brief of the word exchange to me exchange includes the transfer of companies such as if one needs something to be done they will contract some one to do a service and in return the company will pay for that service. Or like they did back in the day they will exchange their crops for other crops they needed for the and good amount for example could be a watermelon exchange for another fruit that will equal the same amount of weight or if the other party will exchange it maybe for something less in case they really want it and it's upon the other party to agree with the other party. to me thats and example of what exchange could mean."

And another:

"Omg!!! Imagine a world with no retail stores there will be no reason to advertise ... wow... having to do certain things from srcatch and having to be able to know so much in how to do things to prepare them the most affected ones will be woman and to much time in the kitchen is something I certainly don't plan to do in my future lolz... and imagine no advertisement oh no!!! you imagine how many laughs we would of missed watching those crazy commercials and seeing how they pursuade us the public to buy things lolz omg so many things the lost of revenue in so many companies and all that.... too much to handle but certainly we could survive and be able to do it but wouldn't the dollar value lessen and we would return to the past like back den when mickey d's cost like 15 cents for a burger or something like that ... but the question is will there even be a mickey d's-( mac donalds)"

Yep. It's going to be a loooooooooooong semester.

saturday

In a moment I forget about making sure that the whites are separate from the darks, buying bulk-sized ketchup so I don't run out when I need it, having a new dress for that wedding coming up, worrying those two nails that have chipped nail polish, being upset that my hair is a hot mess once I got rain on it...

Funny how I make lists to prioritize things that need to be done each day. Everything has its place. Everything has an order to it. I like to believe that my life is predictable. One lesson I learn over and over is that no matter how many lists I make, no matter how many things get done, life has a way of showing me who's really running the show.

At 2:49am on Saturday morning, life handed us a messy package. Considering the circumstances around it, we should be thankful.

I can't think straight enough to make a list today. My nails will have to wait.

Bite me.

Apparently if you live in the Unites States, you must have your car inspected once a year. For doing so, you receive a sticker to place proudly on your windshield. If you don't have a nice new sticker, the police will hate you. They will ticket you, fine you, give you an additional written warning for the illegal window tint which instructs tell you to report to the station in five days to prove the rectification of the window tint, and then tell you that you got off easy:

"The good thing about this citation is that it isn't a moving citation."

"Oh, right. Good... What?"

"That means you cannot get ticketed for the same thing more than once in this 24 hour period. So, you may continue on to where ever you were headed."

Fair enough. He got me. I honestly had no idea about the inspection being up, and the tint I was taking my chances with anyway. He's only doing his job. I understand and appreciate that.

What bothers me is that-
a: the extra fees that accompany the original fine. The fine? $25. Total after all fees added? $106.50
b: it isn't a glamorous ticket, like driving backwards at 200 mph with an endangered animal in the car within 500 feet of a record tight-rope walking attempt. Or something.
c: I can't even rag on the guy. He was very polite to me. Very nice, really. The only nasty thing I can say about him is that he has girly handwriting. I swear he's one ticket away from dotting his lower case i's with hearts.

Miscellaneous miscellaneousness

Big surprise here: Jordan hates Santa. Every muscle in his skinny little body went rigid when he got within a couple feet of the fat guy. The Santa camera was broken, so Mark will take the credit for this stunning picture.

I swear I've wanted to update here, but it was just out of my hands. Two reasons: One- the weather is unseasonably warm, and we've been playing outside. Two- I've been a bit sick and have been busy getting my blood drained from my body everyday this week.

The only things to suffer happen to be this blog and the annual cookie bake. I've made three dozen cookies for just us this year.

Besides all of that, I'm ready for the holidays and D's birthday. I wouldn't push it and say I was excited. But ready? I guess.

In closing, I will share this picture of my mailbox. I hit the door of it with my car. Yep. The first person I thought of was the eldest of my younger brothers. He has a history of hitting mailboxes. Only, he seems to do it on a much grander scheme. Maybe we'll get together this week and show 'em who's boss.

I can't promise anything as far as posting until the 28th or so. So, I will wish you all a very peaceful, healthy, and happy holiday.

Sanitizer=Love

It's that time of year again...the Christmas lights are twinkling, the snow is gently falling, the kids are making their lists in hopes that they've been good, and I am getting sick as shit again.

Everywhere I go, I have been surrounded by nasty germs. Dylan's school host a ton of snot-sleeved kids waiting for the right time to touch you. Target has those god awful carts that are riddled with the germs from that crazy guy who lit up a cigarette in the checkout aisle (true story). The popcorn girl at the movies (The Queen was terrible by the way), the gas station guy (because it's too cold to pump it myself), and the mailman...they all wait until the perfect moment, and spread their nastiness to me.

Actually, that's not true. They pass it to Dylan, who then, in return wakes up in the morning, gets into my bed, and the very moment I turn my head towards him, he sneezes. Right. In. My. Face.

It's not so much the runny nose for me as it is more of a black-plague-like-cough-slow-death-thing. There's no way to politely cough to clear your throat in public with this type. It's the kind that you have to stop walking, and cover your mouth with both hands because you look and sound like a barking seal. It's that real powerful type of cough where every muscle in your body clenches when you cough. You know, the kind where you tighten your butt real hard because you'll let one fly when you cough.

Very attractive to say the least.

It makes the nightly treadmill routine quite humorous though. Running leads to coughing, leads to farting, leads to laughing at self, which leads to the complete and utter horror on the faces of your loved ones.

Happy Holidays.

(sorry, Indigo- I had to put it up)

Flickr

My slide show has decided to hide my pictures. Please hang in while I find them. I swear I just had them....where could I have put them?.....

To hold you all over- here is a picture of the remains of a very frantic, marinara sauce-making woman, who sadly possesses a cork screw manufactured in the early 17th century. Yeah, I showed that bottle who's boss. Hmph.

So, THAT'S why they call them Huggies...

Ridiculous. Every single time that Mark and I go out, we over-do it. The last time Mark and I have been out, sans children, was sometime in December. No joke. Sad, huh? When we finally go out, it's like we're making up for the last four months.

So, his sister (Dawn), and her boyfriend (who I call Nancy) joined us for a night out at the comedy club. Two other friends came along, and eventually a few more straggled into the bar at the end of the night.

The following day, I spent the morning cleaning up the kitchen. Apparently I ate a couple Hershey Kisses, and left the wrappers on the floor. The kids watched Sesame Street most of the afternoon, and Mark slept all day- note how he snuggled up to a box of wipes.

And the award for best re-enactment of college days goes to...

I was so excited for the Oscars this year. I think it's because I watched nearly every movie nominated for something. As we sat at my mom's last night, eating birthday cake, I didn't think I could stay awake long enough to see anything past that dreadful Joan Rivers.

On Saturday, the boys surprised me with an early birthday party. They had strung balloons up outside, as well as inside. There were pink, purple, white, and red balloons (because that's what girls like) hung all over the house. They taped balloons to the ceiling fan, hung up a strand of Happy Birthday lights, and sang Happy Birthday to me with a chocolate mousse pie. I was showered with gifts that included a lawn gnome named "Gnome the Gnome." I bet you can't guess who got that for me. I also got a gift certificate to Old Navy, and a 30 pack of Miller Lite. Does it get any better?!

Mark and I stayed up late to watch Hustle & Flow. We made it into an all night extravaganza- we treated ourselves to the beer and chocolate mousse pie. On Sunday morning, I found myself tripping over 90% of the case and 100% of the pie box in the living room. The fan was still going, and the pimp song was still stuck in my head.

The pie must have magical powers which counteracts hangovers, because our only vice the next morning, was sleepiness.

Last night when the awards came on, I watched sleepily as Clooney won an award. Ten minutes after, I was wide awake. Blech. I watched the entire (disappointing) thing.

Is it safe to come out yet?

Santa kicked my ass...hard.

All I remember is a flurry of boxes, bags, clothing, gift cards, toys, camouflage, and of course, cookies over the course of seven days.

Dylan's birthday was on the tail of Christmas, thus ensuring more chaos, boxes, bags, clothing, and birthday cake. To better culture my kids, we celebrated Kwanzaa and Hanukkah, coincidentally both on Dylan's birthday. Oy vey! What was I thinking?!

New Years Eve was spent with our friends and their closest 300 family and friends at their wedding. We had arranged for my mom to watch both kids overnight! Woot! We left the wedding early and raced home for the ball drop, only to walk in the door at 12:01 am. We were sleeping by 12:17 am. We woke up at 8:30 am. Eight blissful hours. I couldn't have had a better start to the new year.

Today I attempted to clear through the hardest hit areas of my house. I took a nap, and thought about working, but eventually decided to rest up for the Orange Bowl tonight. I promise to post again tomrorrow or Thursday. Until then, please mail all of your muscle relaxers to Sarah's Neck Fund. I'll send you a complementary cookie.