Oh thank Elvis

B made a change today.

 

We no longer have the same do.

 

Actually, he has no hair.

 

I shaved his head.

Happy Father's Day

(For more Father's Day postcards, visit Post Secret.)

It's 6:49 in the morning. I woke up about 30 minutes ago, just in time to say goodbye to B and Duck as they headed off to B's version of Waldon Pond to go fishing. With a cooler in the front seat, a John boat tethered to the rack on the top of the truck, 6 fishing poles, a hiking backpack converted into a tackle box (for hiking, you know,) 6 cans of Coke, 1 thermos of coffee, they headed off to the gas station to pick up the most important part - chocolate doughnuts and bottled water. B has been looking forward to this for days. An avid bass angler, be didn't even take his scum frogs. Nope, today he packed live bait - red wigglers and night crawlers - and bobbers and they are going fishing for blue gill (perch.) Apparently, these blue gill in this pond are huge and so plentiful that they darn near jump into your boat on their own. Duck is gonna have a blast!

Tonight is Stealth's turn.

Sometimes I think that the best father I have ever seen is the one that I married.

On me

I've thought of several things I wanted to blog about over the last several days. Just random things that come to mind to me throughout my daily activities (have you ever noticed how many I's there are in ACTIVITIES??) But, of course, these thoughts only happen to occur when I'm sitting on the toilet, walking the dog, in the shower, after sex, etc. and those times are not exactly conducive to blogging. Guess that's why they have audio blogger or something about phoning in your blogs. But let me tell you something --- you think you get some bullshit on my blog now ... imagine if I actually phoned the crap in!!! Yeah --- I'm not going there. But, alas, my consideration of your interest level has left me in the land of What The Fuck Was I Gonna Write About? Population: 1.





James Brown kicks ass. The end. Loves me some King of Soul. I mean, how can you not love a man who has a live album called Sex Machine???

It's Friday afternoon at 3:52. I have no idea when this will actually post. Truth be told, I started it a couple of days ago. Gotta love saving your drafts.

In the name of full disclosure, I've had a drink or two. I'm not sure I want to get ripped today --- it's more like I'm drinking to soothe the savage beast instead of drinking to burn the house down. It's a blues day, a soy candle and shades drawn, a slow sipping, endless cup of bourbon day, a feel the music so intently you punch the pillow in emphasis kind of day. A slow dance in the middle of cooking dinner, a cry it out silently in the arms of someone you trust, a paint the sky deep purple kind of day. Bottoms up.

Today I accompanied my mother to the settlement hearing for her divorce. I'll not divulge any details here as it is not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that she walked out of the courthouse not one step closer to the end than she was when she woke this morning. Such a disappointment. So, we went to W's to eat lunch and knock back a couple of drinks, which got comp'd! Thank Elvis something went right today. Bottoms up.

The boys went to my in-laws today for the first time since my FIL decided to show what a 3 year old he is. Let me just say this - neither B nor I were at all easy about this, but I needed childcare so I could go to court with my Mom, and we didn't really have any other choice. I called several times to check out the situation there --- all seems to be well and my FIL is behaving nicely and walking on eggshells, as is appropriate. B is picking them up in 30 minutes. Time shall tell. Bottoms up.

In the last week, I have colored my hair and done something funky to my eyebrows. The hair color is a very slight lightening (which, of course, will probably result in a full out bleaching by end of summer 'cause I'm strange like that,) and my eyebrows have changed shape for the first time since I was 16 years old. Yes, friends and neighbors, you read that correctly - I've been sporting the same brow do for 15 years. The other day, I was sitting around watching Days of Our Lives as my kids had their movie time and thought, "Why the hell not?" So I grabbed my tweezers and a hand mirror and went to town. Check out before and after --- knowing full well that the hair color change is not showing up well in pictures. Check out before and after (if you cannot tell, 1) get your eyes checked, 2) the one with the dark hair and jean jacket is BEFORE, the other one is AFTER.) There is another After photo that might be better, but you know, I'm drinking and cannot tell. So we make due with the following photos:

I love Summer tv programming. Seriously. Hells Kitchen, Last Comic Standing, America's Got Talent are about the most sublime choices in programming during the hot, summer (read: drunk off your asses) months. In the Summer, I don't want to be mentally challenged. At. All. Nope, I like the mental peanut butter, brain toothpaste programming that networks plan on, 'cause frankly, I'm tired of being so damned smart all the time. Bottoms up.

I love James Brown, I really do, but man, he cannot do For Once in My Life like Frank Sinatra. Sorry, James. Cannot be done.

My friend, SS, is having a baby in a few months in New Zealand. I'm thrilled about her having another child, but am sad that I won't be with her while she's bringing her first son into the world. I just kept thinking that I needed to somehow honor this little one's coming into the world, so I'm doing a pro-bono birth here in my town in the name of her soon to be born son. SS, I hope you can feel the love. Love you, Mama. Bottoms up.

And having said all of that, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I'm NOT on call at the moment. Soooo, Bottoms up.

So, I've been keeping in touch with my ex-husband. I must say, it's highly entertaining. I have forgotten what a hoot he is --- when you're not legally, emotionally, physically, mentally, practically responsible for him, that is. Now that I can watch his insanity from a very safe distance, it cracks me up. I remember the good parts of him, and I'm so glad to be able to do so. He's a really good boy -- just not a good man. But lord almighty, if there were an award for unlikely arrests, my ex-husband would not only have several of those awards, he would be the name sake for such awards. That cat is sooooooooooo messed up, I'm gonna start calling him Murphy. Thank you, Elvis, that I am no longer married to the fool, but thank you for allowing me to be able to step back and say, "Holy crap, that guy is a walking sitcom." A sitcom that I'd love to watch but will never ever star in again. Bottoms up.

Dinner needs to be made. My glass is empty.

Bottoms up.

Crisis Averted

All was needed was one drink and some faith in my man.

 

 

I need several stiff drinks.

And I need them now.
Right now.
Several.
Stiff.
Drinks.

And some Beer.

That is all.

Stream of Consciousness meeting minutes

It's 7:10 pm on Monday.  I'm in the office with "The Moon" (the small fluorescent above my desktop) lighting the whole basement alone.  Looking on my desk directly in front of me I see 2 empty beer bottles (from yesterday,) a half empty beer bottle (from today,) a Santana cd, a clothes pin, a digital camera, a can of compressed air, paint splattered sun glasses, and a tube of lipstick - color: Rosy Outlook.

 

iTunes is randomly singing - currently, it's Ani DiFranco Reckoning.   I swear, the next song will be the theme to Maude!   Such is the beauty of iTunes.

 

My dog is laying beside me, panting in his sleep, tongue sprolled out as if in hopes for to catch the magical Milk Bone fairy as she flits from here to doggie heaven.  When I die, I wanna come back as my dog.  He's got a peachy keen life, man.  And he's pretty easy on the eyes.  And finally, for the love of all things beany, I'd be able to fart at will whenever, wherever, without second thought because, dammit, I'd be a sassy assed dog.  Heh heh. Go on with your nasty self, Boy.  I don't blame you a bit. 

 

Sheryl Crow  Can't Cry Anymore

 

There is a strange role reversal that happens in families as the children become adults - and even parents.  I'm thinking of my relationship with my mother as well as the current dealings with my inlaws.  Sometimes, when I'm feeling overwhelmed with emotions or situations or stresses or whatever and need to get some perspective, I try to imagine how I would deal with such situations at age 18 or 19.  When I think about that and am undeniably gut busted with laughter at the inappropriateness or ineffectiveness of the 19 year old reaction, it makes the whole situation come into perfect perspective and my choice is clearly and easily made.

 

Split Lip Rayfield   John

 

My dog thinks he's a cat in one way and one way only - he thinks he can climb trees.  Yes, oh yes, Hank dreams of being a tree climber.  He has been jumping and flailing himself towards the top of several trees in my yard lately in a desperate attempt to show those damned uppity squirrels who the hell is boss in Hank Land, thankyouverymuch.  Today, though, today was different.  Today, my Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Pup (thanks, JM Bill,) managed to climb into my maple tree.  Yes, my friends, all 5 feet of him, tail to nose, was in that Maple tree in my front yard.  What a freak!

 

Mary Chapin Carpenter  Shut Up and Kiss Me

 

Um, this song does not inspire me.

 

Don McLean   American Pie

 

I cannot listen to this song without thinking of Tisha Crawford.  She's no longer Tisha Crawford, but you know, whatever.  The summer between my 8th grade and Freshman years (or was it Freshman - Soph summer -- No I think Fresh....) Tisha had a BBQ party at a lake house.  Apparently this was an annual thing for her and her family, but I was such a friendship circle butterfly, this was the only year I managed to be in her crowd at summer time to be invited.  I remember the bikini I wore (I'm sure I blinded some folks for life -- that was clearly not a pretty picture,) and the food and such.  And I remember listening to Steve Miller's   The Joker and Don McLean's American Pie.  Good times.

 

The Marshall Tucker Band   Can't You See?

 

If thinks don't clear up with my inlaws soon, I'm gonna go fucking insane.  The stress between families, the kids being freaked out about the absence of their grandparents, my Inlaws psycho crazy bullshit thought process is only causing the issue to get worse, and NO ONE WILL LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE long enough for B and I to really think about it in a way so as to make a decision.

 

Speak of the devil, there goes the phone.

 

How freaking interesting --- the next song on iTunes??

 

...  Jack Johnson  Losing Hope

 

 

And on the 7th day, She rested

because it's raining.

 

I've been painting non-stop for 7 days (with the exception of a lovely lunch and some serious bargain hunting with my DDFF on Thursday,) and I'm dog ass tired.  I've showered and shaved and showered and shaved and, while all the blue paint comes off quite nicely, the freakishly strong and resistant primer remains on my feet and legs and arms.  It's been there since Monday.

 

We were going to be able to finish up the house today, so we thought.  We need a super duper speedy once over second coat kind of deal, to paint the trim satin white, and to paint the foundation.  At the very least we'd get it all started and the rest could be finished after work tomorrow, etc.  But nope.  There's a storm.  And we desperately need the rain -- but we also need to finish the freaking house.

 

We would have finished painting a normal house days ago.  B and I make a great team and we both have extensive painting experience, so we have it down.  But, see, our house is not a normal house.  Nope.  The owners before us (or before them?  I don't know) put cedar siding on the entire house.  And then they stained it some sort of strange steel color.  But check it out - they chose bizarre siding that doesn't overlap in a plank style, nope, it has ridges, and they installed it sideways, so you have to go in by hand with a tiny little toothbrush looking thing to get the bloody paint into the "I'm a bonehead idiot who doesn't know how to install my siding" crevices and ridges.  And, as if that wasn't enough, when they stained it, they didn't do the whole toothbrush looking thing, so there is still exposed wood in some places!  So, not only do we have to roll the thing in 1.5 inch knit rollers, we have to go in and cram paint into the devil's ass crack a zillion and twelve times more than once -- with primer and paint!!!   And sweet jesus on white bread, they even pussed out when it came to painting the foundation.  We have exposed foundation on 3 sides of the house.  Our house is on a hill, so part of the basement is under ground, part of it is not.  Two of the 3 sides has minimal foundation exposure, but the third exposed side is 1/2 foundation.  The previous owners painted the foundation on the two least exposed side, but left the largely exposed side unpainted with drips and drops and streaks of the strange steel color from the house.  So that side is going to take 2 or 3 coats of color.  Wonderful, eh?  Fucking morons.

 

Not that I'm bitter or anything.

 

 

 

 

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch- Changes

Midway

Lotsa Pictures

Where I'll be for a few days ...

We are painting the house. Yep, indeed, painting the house. This is just the first coat of primer. Then there will be paint (dark blue) and trim (white) and foundation staining (gray.) I'm already speckled and banged and bruised and cut and sore and tired and figuring out how it's appropriate to drink beer at 8 am. These photos are from yesterday. More coming ....

Blogger, seriously, WTF?

The new Blogger. Well, yeah, it's pissed some folks off.
I'm not so sure I'm pissed, but I am a bit confused.

I have no idea how the post about the hair styles ended up posting on top of the post about tomatos.

And why the hell will it NOT keep me logged in, even after I click the "remember me" square?

Blogger. Thy name is mud.

Oh Bloody Hell ...

I just realized that my husband and I have the same hair.

Fuck.

This cannot be good.

 

Smashed Tomatos

I have no idea where to exactly start posting, but let me just say right now that FINALLY Blogger saves drafts, so I'm not feeling too pressured. Let's just see if it works, eh?

So a baby girl was born on Sunday, May 27th, at 6:51 pm after close to 40 hrs of labor. This was a very long, very hard, very challenging birth for me and for my clients and, well, for everyone involved. It was one of those births that makes you rethink everything, a birth that shifts your focus, your perspective. Everyone is fine, no doubt about that, but no one is the same. Welcome to the world, Baby S. You've made it clear that you are gonna do things your own way - do them well!

Portable DVD players are the most fabulous things in the history of mankind. I swear to Elvis, if you have children who sometimes travel and who also have eyeballs, go right now and get yourself one. Technology is so advanced these days you can buy one for less than $100. And they pay for themselves within the first hour of use on a road trip. Need more proof? Just check out this testimonial:

"When you are the mother of 2 very active small children, driving through Kansas is enough to make you wanna visit with your good pal, Jim Beam, at 9 in the morning. However, with the aid of my new best friend, Ms. Portable DVD Player with Dual Headphones and Skip Protection, the world is my oyster! Of course, Jim Beam does work well when you have to deal with oysters and is damned near a necessity for dealing with Kansas, but you know, whatever. Just go get yourself one of these things and maybe you won't need those little blue and white pills after all."





I don't know who that woman is - she sure sounds smart!





In other news:





My grandfather's funeral was lovely, simply lovely. I'm thrilled that I went and I'm beyond elated that my family went with me. I would go into detail, but really, there is no need. It wouldn't matter to anyone who didn't know him and everyone who knew him was there - with the exception of my sister, and I've already filled her in on the details. Just for my own memoir reasons, remember the following notes: Vicki, Pam. Ice cream at funerals. Smart for dying with his watch on. Sugar packet. What's a Bible? Duck kissing Isabella. B crying = best used Y chromosome ever. Check photo of Stealth covered in sugar from powdered doughnuts, photo of my Dad, his wife, my brother and his wife, and me and my brood after the funeral (the source for the previous post about hair issues soon to be resolved ... somehow.)





Duck's birthday. Man, I feel bad for that kid this year. Kind of like my brother must have felt his entire childhood living at home - his birthday is December 28th and we were almost always on the road on his birthday. We got home from the funeral around 12:45 am on Duck's birthday (Sunday,) and Maude, we were tired. But we all did well. He, blessedly, decided he wanted store bought cupcakes instead of a home made cake, so we went and grabbed them up. He played his favorite Playstation game with Stealth and B while I made him this birthday card -yes, that's Duck as Spyro, his favorite game! I win Mom of the year award moments later at gift opening ceremony, where Duck is also blessed with Link-n-Logs (Lincoln logs,) a zillion and twelve Hot Wheels, some comic books, some mad libs, cash, train, etc. Followed by the clan traversing to Going Bonkers where, indeed, they did go Bonkers while Matriarch of said clan shoves endless amounts of caffeine and sugar into her mouth in order to stay awake long enough to put children to bed. After leaving the source of the Bonkers, we go to Toys R Us where more Hot Wheel madness ensues. Large expenditures of cash follows. Kids come home and play like crazy people and eventually pass out cold. Much garage celebration comences by the adults. Adults climb into bed hours later, thankful to have survived another year and hopeful that they can survive parenting a 7 year old.



B has taken this week off. To paint the house. Yes, it's true that I no longer have:

a bathroom sink

a shower

a bathtub

a bathroom FLOOR



But he took a week off to paint the house.

Ha.

Viva la Bourbon





My sister is in a new place in life, both figuratively and literally. May your journey be all that it's meant to be. May the truth come from all angles. May the roof and walls close in. You see, the way only exists in your center.



DDFF, I dreamed of sushi last night. What night you wanna indulge?

Duckling Little

IT'S DUCK'S 7th BIRTHDAY!!!!

Happy Birthday, my love. I adore you. You're such a sweet soul.
And I know you'll forgive me for waiting to make the big emotional birthday post until tomorrow.
'Cause you're cool like that.

that's better

Last night I just kind of melted down.  I mowed the lawn, had my stiff drink, etc. 

And then I sat down and poured my heart out to B, told him that I NEEDED to have my family with me.  It took a long time but it finally got through to him and now we are all going to KS for the funeral tomorrow!!  

We'll pack up and go get my Mom's portable dvd player so the boys can watch movies, B will be with me in my time of grief, and dammit, I can show my relatives that my family can unite in a time of crisis and support one another.

I feel soooooooooo much relief and support.  And cool, road trip, eh?

9 minutes

I have 9 minutes to verbally bring forth all the stuff in my head.  ready... set...

GO!

 

Grandpa died today.  I'll be going to the funeral alone.  I will be a pall barer. Yes, you read correctly,  I was also a pall barer for my grandmother.  Messed up family, I'm here to tell you.  But I do have to say, there is some healing involved with laying a loved one in the ground.  I'm glad that my hands will be some of the last responsible for Vernon.

 

There's a part of me that is pissed of with B for not attending the funeral with me.  After all, I'm the one grieving here -- doesn't seem hardly fair that I'll be driving 7 hours (give or take) to attend the funeral of my grandfather alone only to have to drive back alone, too.  But, you know, maybe I need that time.  I believe I do.  I can hang with him wanting to comfort me by allowing me to know that my children are safe.... still, I wish he were there with me.  He's done so much for me from here, though. Left me with cash, returned with bourbon.  Taking care of the kids to let me have my one day / night of getting ripped all to hell and saying FUCK IT to the rest.  I'm sure that, when I return from the funeral, the house will be clean, the laundry will be done, there will be a large treat in the garage waiting for me along with a stiff drink and a nice little pick me up that only my husband can provide me.  Heh heh heh.

 

 

The birth.  Crap on a cracker, I haven't written about the birth.  I don't know that I"m going to.  It was a horrendously long and complicated birth, but my client did all that she could and I learned a lot about the human spirit.  And for the first time, I issued the very words that changed my life 5 years ago, "There comes a time when you have to decide to take the power.  You can either decide for yourself to have the surgery, or you can wait for your physician to decide for you.  Where will you find the most empowerment?"  Baby girl born at 6:51 pm, nearly 39 hours from the onset of labor, via cesarean section.  Mom and baby and dad and doula all doing well.

 

1 minute

 

I want sushi.  I really want sushi.  I cannot afford sushi AND a trip out of state for the funeral.  DAMMIT.

 

Someone start saving bail money --- I might have to kidnap a sushi dude and take him to KS with me.  Oy!

Vernon Robert Wells

June 20, 1925 - May 31, 2007

Rest in Peace

Just live that life. It doesn't matter whether it is life or hell, life of the hungry ghost, life of the animal, it's okay; just live that life, see. And as a matter of fact no other way. Where you stand, where you are, that's what your life is right there, regardless of how painful it is or how enjoyable it is. That's what it is.- Taizan Maezumi

Brain spewage

It's a day of uncertainty.  When I'm uncertain, my brain goes on overdrive.  I'm just gonna spill it all here.

 

So here's the deal with being a birth professional - time is wonky.  For example, in most other jobs, you know when you will be going to work, *where* you're going to work, how long you'll be there.  Not when you're a birth professional.  Not at all.  Right now I know my client is in early labor.  Good enough.  I know that eventually she'll be birthing at a hospital about 25 minutes away.  Check.  I know that at some point, I'll be joining her somewhere.  Right on.  But I don't know when (an hour from now? 6 hours?  12??) and I don't know where (her house first?  or straight to the hospital?)  and I most certainly don't know how long I'll be with her.  I might climb into my own bed to sleep tonight --- or I might not get to climb into my own bed to sleep until tomorrow night.  No one knows. 

 

It's as if time somewhat stops when that phone rings and I hear, "I think this is it!!"  Time doesn't matter at that point because, frankly, I'm on someone else's watch.  Sure, I can still go about my daily grind, but always in the back of my mind I'm looking for the quick exit, the best parking place that will allow me to leave easily, etc.  I don't know when anything is going to happen -- it's part of the nature of the game.

 

I wish other folks would get that.  Namely my husband.  Now, B is a great man and he is incredibly supportive.  He loves what I do and knows I'm damned good at it and that I love it (talk to me at 3am tomorrow and ask if I still like it .. oy!)  B has always encouraged me to do whatever I want whenever I want and that's just fantastic.  But good grief, I don't understand why he doesn't realize by now, several several years and countless births into it, that I don't know when I'm leaving and I don't know when I'll be home.  I usually just say, "By Thursday" and leave it at that.

 

Hank barks now.  All the time.  Not at strangers or noises very much (although he does do that,) but he barks to talk to us.  It's unreal.  He comes up to us and does that doggie howl and we all join in unison with him, but then he decides to bark when he's really serious.  I can handle it.  The boys love it.  It's loud and it does hurt my ears if he's close, but good night, Hank is just a talker.  B, however, does NOT dig this.  It's highly entertaining to me to watch B cringe and freak at the barking while the boys and I continue on our party line chat with the dog.  Ruff Ruff, baby.  Ruff Ruff.

 

JM Bill is camping this weekend where there are lions and leopards.  I wanna be there with her.

 

Speaking of Africa, I've been letting the boys watch Roots with me.  It's heavy and hard at times and we have to stop the movie every 10 minutes or so I can answer their questions and such.  It's a 12 hr film, so it's going to take us a long time to get through it.  That's fine -- it certainly took long enough to live.  It's interesting to watch the boys experience the trauma and horrific nature of our history.  It's sad to watch that reality cross their little faces, but it's also so wonderful to see that they instantly understand the grave injustice of it, that it's NOT right, that it makes no sense.  It's a deep pleasure to see the look in their face that says so clearly, "Never again.  Never to another soul of any color, creed, race, religion, sexual orientation, political affiliation, etc.  NEVER AGAIN."  It's kind of like when Duck was mortified to see how eggs are collected on commercial farms and vow that he would only eat free range eggs.  It's a proud moment for me, a proud moment as a parent.

 

JP and her clan is out of school for the summer.  YAY!!!!  This year should be interesting.  Her youngest, D, is terrified of dogs.  Just terrified of dogs.  No matter what size or breed they are, this little "Ima get you sucka" girl is scared of dogs ... and we have Hank.  Hank who is enormous and loud.  Hank who is nothing but a gigantic marshmallow but looks and sounds like a vicious beast.  Hank who brings me my slippers and will kiss you stupid for peanut butter.  He's awesome, but she won't be able to tell 'cause the poor love will be too scared to find out.  Guess we'll be visiting them a lot this summer instead of them coming up here.  Lovely.

 

I'm messing with my blog layout and such.  Expect random changes.  Ha.  Good lesson for life, eh?

 

Stealth has decided that he's going to be a video / computer game wizard.  He's well on his way.

 

Oh there's the phone ....

 

Phone wars, Round 1

Has been officially won by my client.

The phone rang this morning at 7.

Contractions started at 4 am.

In her back.

 

Oy.

 

It's gonna be a long one, folks.