On the list of things to do today:

laundry
dishes
straighten up the kitchen counter -again. Where does all this stuff come from? Why is it so hard to keep the surface uncluttered?
untangle the ball of yarn Tiff was playing with this morning

I do need to get some of my ufo's set up to start working towards finishing them. UFO: unfinished object. The downside to having umpteen things going on at once is the swarm of UFOs it creates in it's wake. The upside? There's always something started somewhere that I can pick up, work a little on, and keep my hands busy with.

oh, and did I mention that today's sandwich log is made with honey ham and parmesan/romano cheese blend?

Flour is dusted over my nose and forehead in a way that brings back to mind all those frazzled housewife commercials. Today's mission is to do weekend baking and clean the bathroom(s). I'll settle for one of the two, although both should really be cleaned.

so I'll do baking. Maybe I'll be able to get another handful of weeds out of the front flowerbed. I don't hold out much hope of that though. It's possible that the only way to really make progress on that is to pull two weeds everytime I go past it. One weed, two weeds, three weeds, BREAKOUT! The climate is right for grass fleas here, to which I am allergic, and the creeper-weeds in the front bed are also things spawning allergy-causing things in me. I touch them, I itch. After ten minutes or so I really itch. Whenever I try to do intensive work I have to give up at the 12.5 minute mark or so and throw myself in the shower. A COLD shower. And scrub with antibacterial soap and scrub and scrub. Then I lay down on a couple of towels and apply antiseptic-type creams over my hands and arms and other bits.

What am I baking today? I made a tray of sandwich rolls and a sandwich log. A sandwich log, in case you forget, is a loaf of bread that's been patted out flat after the first rising and spread with cheese, shredded lunchmeat, and rolled up into a log for the second rise and bake. Turns out looking like french bread, until you slice it. When warm, the meat and cheese is all runny. When cold, it's back to the solid form. Either way it's an instant sandwich. Slice and eat- unless you want mayo or mustard spread lightly on it. And that's very yummy. I'm sure there are other names for it, I'm sure that there are a hundred ways to do it. But this is mine. I can use it with leftover shredded pork and it's savory, I can use it with honey ham and swiss. I can even slice it thin and broil it lightly to toast the top.

Damn, I'm making myself hungry right now.

Today's mission is to continue identifying some of the vintage pyrex and corelle I picked up the other week. Apparantly ReplacementsLtd can't figure out what they are; I did manage to get one ID off of similar items on another site. Here's hoping for some more. And yes, the one that I ID'd? Over on Ebay. I don't have the pic of it on this machine though, so I couldn't post that one up. The drawbacks of having a naked toddler running around. I swear, we've gone through three sheets today, and a lot of duct tape, and now 3.5 hours after starting this nap she's finally asleep. Damned if I'm gonna wake her up before either she gets herself up or we have to leave.

Today's picture has been censored for the benefit of my nerves. Yes, that's duct tape in her hair.

Can this day possibly get worse? It seems that the bank held off on clearing one of the billpays until today, because then it could clear it retroactively before the dozen little things that the Boy has set up to recur at the end of the month, and thus cause each of the little things to require a $35 overdraft fee.

I have no issue with paying the overdrafts, I just wish to hell that they'd clear things in the order which they are paid out/incurred. The difference being that they'd only get the one overdraft fee instead of ten. Which is money we can ill afford.

That's one of my rants for today. The other one is that the Boy failed his second attempt at the driving test. His turns still suck. And this is news how? I knew he needed to work on them and get more time intown. He knew. I told him that he needed to get somebody else to work with him. He shrugged and either didn't bother pursuing it or thought that he'd suddenly get it without practicing. He's in such a damn hurry to pass the damn thing that he scheduled it yesterday for today, no practicing, no road time, and then got all angry and pissy that he failed "because it's obviously my fault for being a stupid and incompetant man." Uh, hello? If you were this thing I would not still be married to you, much less contemplating having another child with you. Now I'm starving because I couldn't stop at any point this whole morning for food, because the damn bank is overdrawn "suddenly" despite having more than enough money last night and I could have sworn I had seen that check clear already... starving in the sense that I wanted to drive through and grab a burger. Not in the sense that the pantry is empty. I'm too paranoid to ever let the pantry get empty.

Gift bags are finished and loaded up to Etsy.com! You can reach them through my sidebar.

I'm super happy because I just sold another item this morning. Thank you, Internet Person, for really brightening my day. It may be a small thing to you, but believe me it was a Major Thing for me.

I'm still finding it a daily struggle to get my daughter to acknowledge me. She is real good at ignoring my presence at all, except for now and then when she wants to be picked up and carried around. I thought that the tantrums would calm down further, that she would make eye contact with me.

All in all, she really doesn't have tantrums in the traditional sense. She is annoyed, yes, and she expresses her annoyance, but she hardly ever screams. She gets all into the wailing for a minute about how her heart is breaking and it's soooo sadddd, and then she crawls off like we don't exist. Which is fine as it goes, but the part where she totally tunes me out? Not so cool. Any attempt I make to try and get eye contact, or a response to her acknowledgment that I exist, or anything like that? More crying and wailing and trying to get away from me. There are days that this can bring me to tears. Or I'm just pms-ing again.

I just listed this nice little potholder (and it's twin) over on Etsy.

The HGTVnetwork is evil.

Okay, so maybe not "evil" in the classical sense. "Evil" in the sense that I'm sitting before it, transfixed, as completely engrossed in it as the Toddler is in Teletubbies or Barney. Not that I let her watch Barney. I'm supposed to be doing laundry today. Am I doing laundry? No. I'm playing with pretty paper, and not so pretty yet paper. And sewing up reversible gift bags to try and sell in the next couple of weeks.

Mother's Day is just around the corner, you know.

I'll post some pics of all this stuff when it's done. I would have been in lots more stuff today (non-laundry stuff) except that somebody waltzed into Joanns yesterday just before I got there and bought out their entire supply of clear sealant. She must have been watching the same shows as I was, that's all I can say.

Sew there.

I've been working on a jumper-type dress for a couple of weeks now. The first incarnation of this was taken from a knit jumper that I've worn out. Tried it on- the new one doesn't fit. Obviously because the original was knit and worn thin.. the new one is neither. So I opened a seam and installed a zipper, which only solved the problem a bit, and resulted in my serious consideration of cutting the damn thing off rather than try to wriggle my way out of it.

Now? I'm blending the original concept with another one of my favorite lounging around styles. Add the skirt portion to a coordinating tshirt. So far this is almost proven to work just fine. Would be easier if I had full use of my limbs today- the recent windstorms plus dampness plus a slight chill in the night have rendered me all stiff and achy.

The creative process would be faster if I got out my machine, but I'm enjoying being able to sit down and do this slowly by hand. It keeps my fingers nimble and I've really got to consider the placement of each seam -this has proven highly effective at preventing the ripping out of bad seams, which is something I personally hate doing. Another plus is that the light in the living room is only good enough to really do this for a couple hours a day. This is a plus because it makes me have to put the thing down and think about it some more.

If the current incarnation works out, I may have acheived a wonderful housedress pattern, one that is "up to date" and easy to wear and doesn't look like I've spent the whole day in curlers.

My idea of a lost weekend is something about 180 degrees off what I ended up with. I was hoping for a leisurely couple of days in bed, or on the couch, in a boneless and painless position. What I ended up with was a couple of days on my knees praying that my hair wasn't going to end up in the stream of spew.

On the bright side, that's all over now. The massive muscle relaxers seemed to have accomplished nothing at the large dose except make me incredibly sick. I got completely off them, and now I'm gingerly starting back up again at the mini-teeny-tiny dose. So far no sick. Let's go with that.

Yesterday I felt all nostalgic and cooked up a pot of chicken corn soup. To the old recipe, although I did improvise a bit by adding a bunch of chopped up carrots. That was good. Today's variation on the leftovers from this? I'm gonna thicken it up into a nice gravy/stew and serve it over fresh bread. Makes me hungry just thinking about it.

My crazy daisy dishes should get here soon, replacing their broken mates in my life and in my cupboard. I'm sitting here, waiting around, and it's amazing... of course, how much of that is due to the muscle relaxants recently prescribed my the amazing doctor who unstuck my shoulder?

It's like Bill Engvall said in regards to acupuncture: if you're going to get it done, go to an oriental person to do it. I know that it's a stereotype, and it's racial profiling, but seeing as my shoulder is now completely unknotted by his application of acupressure points, I don't care. The pain went away for today. I can move my shoulder up and down and back and forth without having to use the other arm to manipulate it.

Tomorrow the dosage is going to be higher; tonight he started me on a smaller dose to ease into it and because I had to drive a bit this afternoon. Tomorrow and Sunday I'm on the major dose four times a day, and I'm not to operate heavy machinery or my food processor. Talk about your lost weekends. Most people my age accomplish it through partying, drinking, or recreational pharmaceuticals. Me? I just strain/pull my muscles and when it is determined that I didn't do it in a stupid fashion (toting a toddler is not stupid, it's practical AND fun) I get Nice Things.

I wonder if this means that my Boy will give me flowers on Mother's Day this year. Or, like, acknowledge it in some way. Last year it slipped his mind completely. In his defense (and I consider it a perfectly good reason for forgetting) he was in the middle of the ocean and the reason why he should be giving me an extra card and hug (the two year old that this minute is in her crib playing with the Noisy Elephant that her grandma gave her) was not in view.

This year he will be changing her diapers.

Momma lost her basket today. I don't remember where I first heard this phrase. It sounds so delightfully southern, much better than Momma went freaking insane for a couple of hours. My husband wants to blame the episode on the hormone pills that the GYN put me on the other week. Me? Not the hormones. They didn't help, but I suspect that this is his method of coping. It's so much easier for some to deal with "female hormonal shit" than "my wife is mentally unstable and home with our child".

In an odd way, the Toddler is providing most of my emotional babysitting lately. I can't lose my gourd while she's watching because she gives me this Look. I remember that look. I used to give it to my Mama when she would sit in a chair and try to hold the sobs in. Our situations? Possibly a result of the same biochemical cocktail. Our environment? Worlds of difference in that. My husband comes home and tries to make my life better. He gets up with our daughter whenever I need him to, he is willing to take over all bedtime and dinner responsibilities, he happily does whatever, whenever. Well, maybe not always happily, but he doesn't drag his feet and try to weasle out of it. As opposed to my mother's husband, who may have had biological input in my creation, but who has absolutely no claim on anything I turned out to be today. Sorta. (shrug)

So in the meantime what do I do? Just keep breathing. Just keep getting up in the morning. Just keep going on. Because if I don't that's just one more mark against me in the harsh backbrain, and they've got too much to work with back there already. I'm not feeling the need to make any more problems for myself.

I went to the thrift store in search of vintage corelle today. I found a piece that was really nice, the only drawback to it was that it was not my pattern. But for less than 50 cents I got a bread and butter plate, in another vintage pattern, and if I had to choose a vintage pattern to replace my current one this would be it. Ribbon Bouquet.

It took me about four times as long to identify the pattern as it did to find the piece.

I also found and bought 3 stoneware kitchen jars. Minimal crazing, two minor chips on one of them, and it's a real pretty delft-blue pattern on the front. Very pretty. Happily, all of it was on an even further discount than the already low prices. Four pieces, $3.50 total.

I can definately live with that.

Now that I've slept I feel a bit calmer. I just have to remember not to think about the commissary ever again.

Last night while I was at the store that WAS OPEN buying my milk and cheese I was able to get at the same time, packets of basil and parsley seeds. I thought about starting some dill as well, but lets face reality folks. I just am not using dill right now. This makes the starting of dill seeds a bit silly.

What's not silly? I broke a bowl. Now we're down to 6 bowls of the original 8 corelle handmedowns that we started housekeeping with. This... causes some mixed feelings. It makes me want to go out and start picking out a new pattern of corelle for everyday. It makes me want to cherish the remaining bowls. It makes me want to run right out to a thrift shop and try to find replacements for these items. In this age of 'Net shopping, it would be easier than ever. Just scoot right on over to ebay and take a look around...

If I replaced the bowls it would be cheaper than buying new everyday dishes. I don't even have to replace them- I hardly ever have more than 2 and a half people sitting down to meals in this house. I don't need it. I want it. The difference is right in my face. I can't ignore it. I can't pretend it will go away. Need or Want. Honestly? It's a want. It's an awfully big want. But if I put off the expense until later, it will no doubt mean more to me.

An Open Letter to the Idiots who run the Commissary:

I've heard many fabulous things about you. Supposedly I could save oodles of money if I shopped for all my household needs in your aisles. I could get my tires rotated. Happy, smiling people in pristine white shirts will bag my groceries and personally take them out to my car when I'm done shopping. I've heard that I could swoon from the savings on my final bill.

However. I call the Big Bullshit flag on you.

True, your prices are a smidgen lower than the Walmart Supercenter down the road, which is almost the same prices as the FoodCo and the local non-chain markets. This might tempt me to shop in your hallowed store. If not for the fact that you are closed on Mondays.

All I wanted was some cheese and a gallon of milk. It was on my way to fetch the Boy. It would have taken me exactly the ten minutes I had budgeted into my afternoon trip, thus letting the Toddler out of the car for a bit of moving around. And helping keep the sun out of her eyes since she still refuses to wear either sunglasses or a hat.

Could I shop for my needs? No. Because you were closed. It's not like Monday is even a religious holy day. I can see the wisdom of the shortened hours on Sunday, and that you close for holidays. WTF is Monday? Is it a new holy day? Is it a holiday sanctioned by the federal government? Is the convenience of closing on Monday part of your dastardly plan to drive me nuts?

Also, let me take a moment to let you know why I do not like you in the first place. I greatly detest the part of "employing" baggers who work solely for tips. This means that the baggers who happily take my groceries to my car demand cash for the service. It may, in your official wisdom, mean that I should give them a "tip" amount. I have never seen it happen or heard of it happening, and you'd better believe the wife network is pretty damn big. Forcing tips negates the whole point of my savings in your Big Ol' Party Palace.

In short, I am returning to my policy of not patronizing your facility. Even if I bag my own groceries, I am forced to hand over a tip in the guise of "appreciation". If Monday afternoons are the only day of the week I can get my family and schedule slotted into a ten minute run into the store for milk, I'm damn well going to shop at a store that will be open during NORMAL business hours. Note, I'm not asking that you suddenly start opening your doors for customers before 9 AM, when most markets open at 7. I'm not asking that you stay open late. I just want a frigging gallon of milk for my little girl, without fuss, without having to schlep my tired body out to the store at 5:30 when EVERYONE else is doing the same thing.

Above all, I do not want to be a victim of legalized mugging. These days nobody has much extra to spend. A two or three dollar tip to your bagger is ludicrous. Especially in that parking lot. If I try to hold to my principles, I'm given at a minimum dirty looks and cursed at in a foreign language. If I give in, there goes my husband's lunch money for the next day. So fuck you, Mr Commissary Running Idiots. I'm not believing any more of your hype.

How is it possible that I'm sitting here drinking my tea and idly watching the birds out the window? There's a ton of stuff to do today. In addition to the normal chores, I want to clean out the mudroom area. And put away some laundry from the dryer.

Laundry may quickly become the bane of this week. There's just so darn much of it. I did a bunch this weekend, then another two loads yesterday, and then the Boy cleaned up his corner of the bedroom and came up with another two loads. Wow. That's all I have to say, just, Wow.

The fritatta I threw together on Friday turned out spectacularly better than I had hoped. I was hoping for something at least edible for one meal. I turned out with a pan full of quiche consistency, savory, FOOD. Not just edible, but Food Quality edible. I blame the Food Network for this. I fell asleep on the couch once while they were running a marathon session of egg and cheese dishes, and this is what happens. They brainwash unsuspecting women while they're worn out by wifely duties.

Please note: wifely duties no longer means what it used to mean in a biblical sense. These days it's more about making sure the oil is changed regularly, there's always milk and bread in the fridge, and clean underwear for all every day. If I ever ran for office I'd get so much done. Any housewife would kick butt in office- especially if they've ever been a housewife. Toddlers are much more unforgiving and intolerant than reporters. For one thing, they're armed with poop, pee, and strained carrots.

Wait, wait, don't tell me.

For some strange reason people are starting to read this site. Or else one person is out there hitting the refresh button obsessively. Does this mean that I've got readers? Or does this mean I should start looking over my shoulder whenever I leave the house.

Yesterday I went down to the Kings County Swap Meet. It was fun. A bit disconcerting, especially when I was signing in as a seller and the guy running the booth said that yeah, he knew I was coming, because "friends" of mine had told him to watch for me.

Friends? I have friends? When did this happen? I was so used to being an anonymous member of a community- in Maryland, in San Diego, I was fairly anonymous. Just a face in the crowd. Easy to hide. Easier not to make waves or attract notice. This is what small town america is really like.

I mentioned my intent to do the swap meet to two or three people. It seems that these people have Connections. Is this like the rural mafia? Is there a committee of like minded women out there building a file on me? Young wife, child, affectionate husband, dresses appropriately. She still hasn't planted her garden, but her trash is out on the curb every Friday and she hauls her recycling over to the trailer so she can reclaim the CRV on every redeemable container. Plus: no yappy dogs, no loud music, her garden is a mess but the family is neat and she tends to pay cash.

The scary part to this is that I grew up with the mennonite mafia. Same sort of file, same sort of informal "know everything about everyone and never forget it". So far the only difference I'm seeing is that I'm not being asked "Are you related to...?" every time I walk out the front door.

Hmmph.
Should have moved here sooner.

Another stress-filled and hair ripping day. Her Ladyship only went to sleep two hours ago. She's now sleeping. She had better stay sleeping until Mommy has some sleep. If not, I foresee nothing but nasty things for my future.

Stress only rises higher when you haven't slept. Hormones are raging because of the meds my doc put me on last week, and they are not expected to return to sanity any time in the next three weeks. Also, the Boy had a pretty tough day as well. This adds up.

Not to anything neat, either. Our sanities were both in the tail end of rational this evening, we had an almost fight ending with the Boy going out to get a beer. When he got back he told me that the thing he was most upset over now was that he finds it impossible to be an asshole. He presented me with a cherry garcia ice cream novelty. I presented him with a shoulder full of tears and some long hugs.

There are days when I wonder what century we inhabit emotionally. For another couple our "age" what we would expect to see would be a screaming match ending up with him drunk and me crying and then giving him the cold shoulder. Concluding with hurt feelings and resentment all around. What are we waking up to in the morning? Perfect harmony and understanding following our before-bed hashing out of the problem and negotiating a fair solution that doesn't trample on either of our feelings.

Feelings. Nothing but..... feeeeeelllllings.

I'm a bit punchy at the moment. I haven't slept. The nap I sorta promised myself this morning was preempted by Cranky Toddler and PoopFest '07. Then we had to run out to the DMV. Typical government rationale- because he showed up two -TWO- minutes past the time (due to the time spent parking the car and standing in line) the driver's test had to be canceled and we were told to come back another time.

Hence our double mad moods. Because that was just the last straw for both of us. We are, however, very proud that we did not take it out verbally on each other until we were ready for the settlement of the issue. Also, we both kept the hot buttons out of it. When we were hashing out relationship ground rules many moons ago we agreed to keep a disagreement on topic. Don't bring in the minor or side issues. It doesn't have anything to do with the topic, the fight, and has no purpose other than to hurt the other.

And for some crazy reason we respect ourselves and each other too much to screw this up.

And now we are possessed... just in time for the full moon. Which obviously has been in effect today.

It seems that the phone line, without even being within ten feet of the cord that would connect it to a phone capable of dialing, has been making 911 calls all morning. This perturbs me.

Not as perturbed as I was when I was rudely jolted out of my almost-nap this morning. I am pleased to report the local cops are very nice, kinda laid-back in this particular situation, and are all-around nice individuals. They believed me when I told them I had no knowledge of how this happened. They also did not issue me a citation.

If they had, I would have cried.

Calling the phone company was an exercise in frustration. What happened to having the call centers staffed by local people who both knew the area, could connect with you on a human level, and didn't make you jump through touchtone menus and interactive ones. The touch tone menus I can cope with. I even like them, in a wierd way. They are the creepy cousin that you run into about once every ten years; harmless but creepy and they're still Family. Interactive menus that fake being humans? That just raises my blood pressure and makes me want to have sharp words with the human that I eventually insist on being connected to.

I do appreciate these things in some ways. When I actually have the sort of simple problem that they are made to handle. But they are NOT made to handle the complicated problem of a demonically possessed phone line. I was routed through all sorts of strange and unknown tele-systems to finally be connect back to the local office and repair facility, which I knew was the one I had to talk to in any case (so why can't I just be able to call them direct to deal with the problem? Why do I have to wade through a tele-spiel of menus and buttons and fake people that takes at least twice as long as talking to the local human who can fix the problem?)

End result: I made her laugh. Demonically possessed equipment of this magnitude is a whole brand new problem that she has not seen in more than twenty years of working that desk. She understands my problem. We both laughed and swapped funny quips and short anecdotes. My blood pressure went down and I felt listened to and taken care of.

People. I'd be willing to pay the extra nickel on my bill to get rid of the stupid runaround. And you know what? It would cost the companies less in hate mail, provide jobs that pay a living wage, and keep those jobs in the communities that need them. It's a simple concept, but I know it will never catch on.

Four loads of laundry and it's still not all done. When did the laundry start multiplying in the corner? I was sure it was all under control... Then the Toddler (again) started getting naked at random moments. This morning she did it twice; both times necessitating the complete changeout of bedding. I gave in to the need to run her pillows through the washer as well; no sense in letting her sleep on them after she's peed on them, right?

Duct tape. Even with the duct tape, she can sometimes wiggle her way to freedom. We're really focusing on keep the diaper on, since she still shows about as much interest in the potty as she does in the bathtub. As in, none at all. Negative none. Count my blessings; she hasn't started screaming at the potty's approach like she does with the bathtub.

I'm still getting things in order for this weekend. I think we're going to try out the local swap meet/ flea market. Set up a blanket, it will get more foot traffic then a pathetic attempt at yard saling. I just know deep down that if I try to have a yard sale it will end up like most of my attempts at throwing a party or gettogether. Me, alone, all cleaned up and with plates of food but with no one to share them with.

I'm trying to fold a basket of laundry this afternoon and my inner tightwad is fighting my inner sensibility. The question is: do I keep some toddler outfits that are getting too small, since they are not that badly worn and Tiff can still fit into them? Or do I set them aside for the rummage sale [for the same reasons as previous]. Which way am I going to leap? She has other outfits, pretty and newer ones that are big enough to a) fit her now and b) fit her next week. It's not that she doesn't have decent clothes.

Inevitably this question will come up more and more often in the next years. I think that for today, for this load, I'm coming down on the side of the tightwad. No, the sensibility. No, the tightwad.

Or maybe I'll just challenge myself to a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors.

Could I use an extra couple hundred dollars? Sure. Who can't these days? According to my spam-box I could name my price on an instant cash loan.

The key word here being "loan". Do they also advertise the interest rates on these things in big letters? Do they tell you about the penalties in as big type as the offered cash amount? Nope. As much as from time to time we feel a hard crunch, I am not desparate enough to contact these people. The delete key is my friend.

Along with other items of interest, yesterday was Palm Sunday. Lots of palms, lots of singing. It begins Holy Week, culminating in Easter. Where the Large Bunny comes to resurrect spring, Jesus, and high gas rates. Also, afterwards it will be okay to use a white purse and shoes again.

Words heard upon leaving bible study this evening... "Ooh! Dinner!" as a churchmember raced to scoop up a dead pigeon in the gutter.

Now, to put this into perspective, she meant it was to be dinner for the small herd of feral kitties that live out her way. Non-diseased, freshly deceased, and the like. It still sounded wrong when it hit my ears.

Another moment that was just wrong was when I walked into the house to have the Boy look up at me brightly and say, "I know that she didn't electrocute herself, because she's still alive."

Statements like that... payback. Payback for all the times I throw out those sort of comments at others just to get a sick thrill out of watching them go "huh?" Payback for the warped sense of humor that I delight in every day of my life. I gave him full marks for that.

In the meantime it's been another weekend accomplished. When I get offline tonight I'm going to hang up my knitting needles and snuggle down into bed. I'm also going to work on that elusive thrill, Sleep. Tomorrow is another day, another week, another chance to work on expanding my social life (such as it's not) and maybe, just maybe, leave the house a bit. I'd leave the house more except for two things. One, the lack of self-confidence in my own worth and personality to go out and join other like-minded individuals. Two, the intermittant strange health problems I experience. The second part may or may not be in my head, but it's real enough to make me literally pass out cold for several seconds if I overdo things. And no, I haven't seen a doctor about it yet. Maybe next week I'll be brave enough to make an appointment.