Orifice update

Ears: 

Tile guy came today. I think I'm in love. Contractor love that is. I'm going to invent projects all over my house that involve tile. He calls when he says he's going to call, comes when he says he's coming, is clean, fast and reasonable. If I know you in real life and you come for a visit, don't be shocked to see a mural of the Portland, Oregon skyline on my living room wall: All in tile.

Here's the condition of the ear laboratory now:

Not as horrifying as I imagined it in my dreams.  In my dreams there were more insects.  He did have to go up a couple rows higher than he should have because of the water seepage, but the support beams look OK.  Next orifice please.

Nose:

Horrified to discover that I went through a spin class, numerous conversations with other mommies, a parent/teacher conference and the kids dentist appointments with a rogue nose hair that was so long it was curling up and around the tip of my nose.  REWIND.

Mouth:

Can't stop putting things in it lately.  Must be getting close to that time.  Also needs to be washed out with soap after cursing the new "no-kinks" hose.  It took me 45 minutes and at least eight f-bombs to get that stupid hose in the wind-up-the-hose box.  Sorry witness-protection-program-neighbor-who-doesn't-talk-so-I-didn't-see-you-weeding-your-lawn-as-I-yelled-obscenities-at-my-hose.

Rest of the orifices:

Dandy. 

Fitness forays

Hey there!  I am playing Jay Leno to Fit Mommy's Johnny Carson today on her awesome blog Fitness for Mommies.  Click to read my article on my (so far) pathetic attempt at triathlon training.  Then continue reading her blog to find out how real athletes actually train for things, as opposed to simply e-mailing people about training for things.

Or, if you have no interest whatsoever in sportsy stuff, here's yet another cat in a box.  Where do the Japanese find their cats and why are they the cutest on the planet?  Brilliant marketing idea for the Japanese: Sell cats IN boxes to rest of the world.  Economic recovery: Done.

I give up

90 degrees outside.  A/C not working, again.  We have a brand new air handler and compressor (thanks to the old one getting struck by lightening). WTF!!!!

My neighbors sister has a saying and I think I might start selling it on t-shirts and bumper stickers:

"Homeownership.  It's the American freakin' nightmare."  

Yes, she is from Jersey.

Just the tip of the earberg

We got trouble.  Right here in River City.  The tile guy came to do an estimate for fixing the shower.  He popped off a corner tile for me to use for matching purposes and found this:

This is not good.  This is wallboard, a.k.a. sheet rock.  You're not supposed to put this in a shower.  Sheet rock in a shower = Sponge.  Sponge = Water.  Water = Mold.  Mold = Fuck.

The stuff was literally crumbling away under the tiles.  I am livid.  I want to find the address of the woman who flipped this house, leave a flaming bag of poo on the porch, ring the doorbell and then stand back and watch.  I'm not even going to run.  She's going to scream obscenities at me and threaten to call the police and I'm going to stand there like a statue and just repeat our address over and over.  I think she'll get the message quickly.

Do you ever have those times where you feel like everything is falling apart all at once?  We have thousands of dollars of repairs that need to be done on our house, the house that we bought at the peak of the market, the house that is still losing value, the house where the property taxes are inexplicably still rising at a rate well above inflation, the house that luckily, thankfully we have built a happy life in.  This is seriously cutting into my 40th birthday year budget.  Not cool.

Dear Ty Pennington:  I need a not-so-extreme home makeover.  A home eye lift if you will.  Pretty please?

Headstone: Check

I took the best quiz on facebook today (thanks to the adorably funny M.P.).  It was simply entitled "what are you?"  The questions were nonsensical and the possible answers ridiculous.  The result: Brilliance.  

Note to surviving relatives:  Forget all that "she was a loving wife and mother" crap.  The marker of whatever vessel you decide to store me in for eternity should simply read:

SHE WAS 

A BUCKET FULL OF TICKLES.

Oh, by the way, my shower grew an ear

I tried to make that sound really nonchalant.  Did it work?  BECAUSE I'M TOTALLY GROSSED OUT.  I gagged a little downloading this picture from my iPhone:

Right before we left on vacation, it started raining from my first floor ceiling.  Turns out the shyster who flipped this house didn't line the shower properly so now that the grout has cracked it's a complete mess.

So we didn't use the shower for a few days.  And then this happened.  Fittingly, it grew a pair of them.  My husband actually did make me throw up in my mouth a little when he insinuated that the spores that grew this came from one of us.

God knows we will have to start farming out body parts if this house keeps falling apart.  Kidney?  Anyone?

Hey there.

I'm back.  Like the ghosts in Poltergeist (which we watched part of on vacation btw - freaky to see now as a parent).

Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a comment, you were all lifelines during a very hard time.  I did a lot of soul searching (and crying) over the last week and a half.  My family is the most important thing in the world to me.  Hurting them hurt me very deeply.

I have tried to get reflective about all of this.  Interestingly enough, the movie on the plane was very helpful and not just by keeping my mind off my impending death (have we talked about my fear of flying yet?).  It was "Marley and Me" which I hadn't seen yet.  If you haven't seen it, it's columnist John Grogan's autobiographical account of family life with their crazy dog Marley.  There was a point in the movie where his wife (Jennifer Aniston) is looking over a collection of his columns and marveling at the stories there.  Sad, funny, hopeful stories that had one thing in common; they were relatable.

That's all I'm trying to do here really.  Relate.  We're on this earth for such a blink.  This is one of my ways to connect.  To share.  To laugh.  To worry.  To bitch and rant.  It's ironic because I've thought of this blog as my column of sorts.  

I think I've unknowingly put parameters on this blog that only let me share a portion of myself.  I've made it up that if I'm not funny (all the time), no one will want to read it.  So I've left out a big chunk of who I am and that's not authentic.  Don't get me wrong, it's very hard for me to get through a conversation (real or virtual) without cracking a joke of some kind - but if I go into every post with the only intention to be "funny" then I'm not being true to my purpose here.

So I want to keep doing this.  With new ground rules.  I will share more of who I am with you, good, bad, smelly, hairy, scared (OK I'll stop).  I won't write anything about anyone that I would be embarrassed to have them read.  Unless they are complete strangers - you have to give me this one.  I will be true to myself in the sense that I will not filter things to be more "sanitary" or politically correct.

So if you've stuck around, thank you.  I appreciate you very much and have a LIST of things to talk about, so let's get to it shall we?

Apology

I'm going on vacation tomorrow for a week and will be unplugged.  Before I go, I need to make an apology.  I never really told my parents about this blog, I've always looked at it as a diary of sorts but it kind of took on a life of its own.  I do love to write and I love humor, but it's not cool at someone else's expense.  I try to keep this blog mostly to telling things on myself, but I know that I have crossed the line at points with telling things on my kids and in one instance my parents.

In an effort to be humorous, reading back it comes across as hurtful.  My parents are not crazy, old or inconsiderate.  In fact they are incredibly generous, inspiring, intelligent and amazing people.  If I had been more honest in my post (which has since been removed) I would have delved into why I can't be more like them - why I find myself in reaction to things so much.  

Needless to say, I will be thinking about all of this over the next seven days in great detail.  I need to reexamine for myself what this blog is, what is acceptable and honestly if and how I want to continue it.

I do appreciate the people that check in on a regular basis very much.  It has made me feel much less alone on this journey to 40.

Last, but not least (sniff sniff)

He (9 year old son) made this one for me:

He knows that giraffes are my fav "wild, land mammal" (such classifications are necessary in this household).

And I got 6, count 'em, SIX Os on my "so" for pretty.  Totally worth the saggy boobs.

For Mrs. Snack

Since you liked the one he made for his brother, this is the one he made for himself.  Like a typical Art Director he got so caught up in the design, he forgot to spell (wink wink):

Ruh roh!

My son came home from school super excited because they started to learn how to use Microsoft Word in library today.  After his homework, he asked me if I could help him get on it on our computer so he could "practice".  Here's what he made for his brother:

Hmm...I wonder where he learned about sarcasm and the word "seriously"?

What I am getting for my birthday

Actually, I already got it.

Now we need to name it.  Maybe after a black porn star?  I don't happen to know any by name, but if you do feel free to submit them.  Anonymously of course.  Or not.

I also entered my first triathlon.  It's a little one, part of the Trek Women's Series.  It will be two and an half weeks before my 40th birthday.  Couldn't be more perfect.

What I'm not getting for my birthday

I hope this guy really LOVES  this tattoo, because this is the last puddy tat he will ever see.

Gee thanks interwebs!

Someone got paid to write this.  Not only did someone get paid to write it, but it was one of four highlighted stories on Yahoo today.  If there was ever an argument for why we all should support our local newspapers and journalists, this is it.  I can sum up this amazing 2 page piece of investigative writing prowess in four sentences:

Feet stink because they sweat a lot.  If you don't want your feet to stink, wash them more.  Wear shoes that let air in.  Don't wear the same shoes everyday.

Show me the money Yahoo!