mrtl

About "Date My Mom"

If the daughter's adopted, are they still allowed to be on the show?

To Be Blissfully Unaware

I really don't mind that you've discovered this blog. I don't care that you're reading it. I just don't want to know. I don't want conversations based on knowledge of what you've read here, or references to whom I may have been when you knew me better. It's been a long time since you knew me well. A lot has changed. I've changed, and I've every right to think differently, to be whom I've become.

This blog is mine. It's a personal journal, a place for me to vent, to celebrate, to be me. It's a place for me to feel completely comfortable, and change things when they're not. I don't want to feel stiffled by your presence, censoring or disclaiming what I write for your benefit; this blog is not about you. I don't need to be reminded of the person I once was when I didn't like myself very much, unless it's on my own terms.

This isn't up for debate, so I blocked your ass from commenting, with love.

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Update: The above is based on a few comments from my brother. Nothing scathing. I thought I'd be cool with it at first, but then it started feeling creepy and my mind started going off in tangents of what if's. I was already starting to consider the writing of some of my new posts, which I didn't like at all. No comments and conversation = my being blissfully unaware of any familial presence here. That's the way it needs to be.

Thanks for your concern. I blove y'all, too!

Pie Day Friday in the Can

I'm revising my Pie Day Friday mandate. Two weeks ago I was talking to a waitress at my pie place. She asked if I was liking all the pies I'd had. No. Especially not the apple, since it was the consistency of thickened apple butter. I expect chunks of apple in my apple pie, dammit!

She informs me that the fillings for the fruit pies are mostly from cans. Huh? (You got it! It's another WTF entry! One every day this week now!) The sign out front of this place, as well as the free, pink #1 keychain, reads "Famous Homemade Pies." What's homemade about canned??

So. Last week I bought a was in the mood for a fruit pie, but hell if I'm eating any more of their wrongfully-advertised canned homemade fruit pie, so I went to the commissary and bought a whole blueberry pie. It wasn't bad, but I've had much better.

Between eating a whole pie (with some help from mister mrtl) in the last week, plus working on mister mrtl's birthday cake, I'm not much in a mood for pie today. Well, that's a lie. I'm always in the mood for pie, but I'm trying to convince myself otherwise, so cut me some slack.

Anyway, my plan is no longer to eat all the pies on their menu. My new goal is to eat all the cream pies -- which are homemade, so I was told -- on their menu. And fuck the sugar-free shit. That was just added when I was going whole hog, which I'm not now. The search is now on for a new pie place.

My Own Personal Jesuses

I'm exploring live-stream radio today, sitting at my desk rather than propping myself on the couch with my laptop for access to the television. Who planned the layout of this room anyway, with the desk not in direct view of the tv? (I know, rough life working at home. I HAD to use the mouse today, and having it next to me on the couch wasn't working.)

Anyway, I came across a lovely site with listings: www.live-radio.net/. Granted, it doesn't look like they have a search feature, but lovely nonetheless.

I spent a good amount of time listening to an NPR station out of DC. What's this? The Canterbury Tales to rap? Neato educationality! When the stories started repeating, I decided to peruse the Cali list for a good ol' 80's station. I'm in luck! Flash 103.9 out of Sacramento.

I've now heard Depeche Mode's "Your Own Personal Jesus" five times. The commercials are varied, but they call themselves an 80's station when they keep playing the.same.song over and over again? There it is again! I'm a DM fan -- even saw them in concert (The The was opening - woo hoo!), -- but this isn't 80's. Amazon has its release date as March 20, 1990.

I know, yet another WTF Day entry this week. Maybe I'll link back when I run out of ideas. In the meantime, I think it's time to find another station. I'm starting to read more into this. Was this song selected especially for me? Is it trying to tell me something? And if it is, no thank you. I already have my own personal Jesus, and I can play dressup with him at least.

My Day Wouldn't Fit in a Nutshell

Today was a rollercoaster. Yes, I'm mixing my metaphors. Or am I? A rollercoaster wouldn't fit in a nutshell. No. No mixing metaphors here.

I am so tired. The day just ended for me, and it's hitting me. Like what? No. I won't. Why don't you? Give me a good simile why doncha!

12-12:45: Try to soothe the Savage Beast of Bug, who woke up at 11p and spends about the next two hours screaming. It isn't until I strip her down to her diaper that she calms. [What's most odd about this is that I was feeling incredibly itchy in my skin -- uncomfortably so -- just before Bug woke up. My skin was crawling; this had never happened to me before. Was this connected to the earthquake? Did it have the same effect on her? Weirdness.]

1: Finally to sleep. Screw taking a shower. I'm too tired.

6: Bug starts howling again. I'm up, albeit slowly. I try to take her back to bed with me. The beast returns. The beast wants the waffle I wouldn't make her at midnight. Once waffled, she returns to her normal sweetness, except she's clingy from being so tired. "Hole me, Momma! Hole me!"

7:15: Mister mrtl (aka Birthday Boy) gets home from work. I am now quite a beast myself. No, I am not taking Bug to school. I'm too tired to even think about driving. I'll take her after I've had a nap.

7:45: Mister mrtl decides to take Bug to school. I crawl back into bed.

9:45: Awake. Not well rested.

10: Work. Yes, there's some makeup in my future.

1: Mrtl Cleaning Frenzy. Remember when I mentioned that I couldn't get shit done without stress? With TGND coming over to watch Bug for us tonight so we could escape to dinner, the house needed cleaning. It got done.

2: Shower. Dress. Clean some more.

2: Pick up Bug and bring her home. Add the side trip to get gas for the added stress of driving on an almost empty tank.

4: Get Bug sustainance for what may be a long night for TGND. (She wouldn't stop whining and crying over the smallest things.)

5: TGND arrives and we're out the door.

5:45: Reservations at Glacier Brewery. We quickly get seated and get an appetizer.

6:40: Waitress informs us that our "ticket was lost" and retakes our orders. So much for stopping at the store on the way home.

6:55: Food arrives. I promptly splatter my shirt.

7:20: No time for dessert. We get the check. I ask about a discount for the delay. "No can do, but I could get you free desserts." Well, that's just it. There's no time. "You can take it with you." Woo hoo! Peanut butter pie all around!

7:55: Home again. Pay TGND and give her some pie. Light the candles on the cake Bug and I made last night (for future reference for some of you, by the time the 34th candle is lit, candle #1 is pretty low - consider yourselves warned).

8:15: Bath time for Bug. Play in the room for a few minutes while getting pajamas on, then combat the wails of "No Night Night!!!" when it's time for bed.

8:45: Quick web update for work.

9:05: Decide that I WILL be in bed by 10:30 tonight, but blog really quickly.

9:30: Finish writing and decide that 10:30 is too late for bedtime. I'm out. Comments will have to wait... Although I'm very tempted to check in on Cat first. (She had a date with Constantine tonight. Did you know?)

ARGGHGHGHGHHGGHH!!!

HOLY FUCKING GOCK NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WERE EARTHQUAKES HERE. I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!!!!

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Deep breaths. It's still jiggling here, but the dishes in the dish drainer aren't rattling anymore, making me think there's an intruder in the house. Funny, I wonder if there was a little one last night when I heard something downstairs. (Slava was curled up next to me, so it wasn't him making trouble.)

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Useful website, this: http://www.aeic.alaska.edu/Seis/recenteqs/

Let's See Your War Face, Deputy Fife!

Several months ago the military decided that they'd contract out for security to guard our bases' gates. These people may be trained in how to use the guns they holster (or not - I really don't know), but they still look like mall rent-a-cops. For some reason, I felt the base much more protected with a BDU- and battle helmet-wearin', machine gun-totin', combat boot-stompin' server of our country.

Dude at the gate today was the same joker there yesterday when the outgoing gates were closed. I asked how long they were usually closed, and he said, "Oh! It could take HOURS!" He has this air of self-importance, and many of the few moments that I spend waiting to get on base, I'm watching his diarrhea of the mouth as he stops talking to lecturing the other gate guards only long enough to do a quick look at IDs and say such pleasantries as "Have a day," which is what I got today.

Now I realize that this change in the gate guard is surely related to a need for our security forces' help in cleaning up the mess we've made in the middle east. Still, there's a part of me that wants to question the logic in pulling most of the uniforms off the gates, but having military personnel driving the base get-around buses.

Two WTFs for the Price of One

I was a little concerned that my parents' discovery of this blog in conjunction with finding out about Frid would mean the existance of mrtland would become known to everyone hearing the news of the impending birth. I'm at a point where this doesn't bother me, although my parents may find some of the topics here (can you say monkey?) embarrassing enough to want to refrain such a public notice. Consider my aunt who can't stand the word fart getting a glimpse of this site. Ack!

I'm not sure how far announcements have gone so far; Dad said he wouldn't be coming back here, so one can be hopeful. I'm not sure if Mom has visited and how she's relaying the good news. My brother (sorry, B, this is the only picture I've posted of you here) at least let me know today that he has been lurking. Yes, my brother. Used the word "lurking." And what was the first thing he brought up? Boob hair.

hmmmmm... Noticing a hair motif here... and it continues...

Anyway, he was supportive of my "crack habit," besides harrassing me for having enough time to post here but not to update Bug's site. Touche.

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It's rare that I remember dreams. I don't think I dream often; when I do I usually just have the notion that I dreamt, but not what about. Anyway, Saturday night I had a very odd one.

I think I was living at my parents' house, although it wasn't quite the same. Mister mrtl and Bug weren't in the dream, so I'm not sure if they were there. Anyway, I woke up one morning to the sound of a lawn mower. It was some dude -- I guess a neighbor -- and he was being nice by cleaning up the yard. He had a tattoo of JS' full name (complete with middle name, but I can't remember what it said) across his collar bone area, written all gangster style in Old English. I asked him about it, and he told me some lengthy story about how he's related to him. Then HE showed up with his Uncle Jessie hair to help with the yardwork. I was in the process of telling HIM about Kalki when I started gaining consciousness. The last I remember was telling him he could Google this to find her. As I started regaining consciousness, I started injecting my dream with too many conscious thoughts, instead showing HIM her blog, and then not, and then just getting him to autograph something for her, and then having her write a note with the autograph. That's when I gave up and got out of bed.

GAH! I need guidance here, Kalki! If I were to meet him, what should I do? (For some reason I'm thinking that anything short of abducting him and delivering him to you in Redneck Valley would be unacceptable. Am I right?)

Goals

Recently I discovered that I have some symptoms that are similar to ADD. It's not something I had ever considered about myself, and I had plenty of exposure to it as a teacher. I'm planning to talk with my doctor about this, to see if I should bother going through testing now or wait till after Frid comes (i.e., if the meds involved would be ok to take during pregnancy and breastfeeding). In particular, these symptoms include:

• Being a compulsive list maker. I'm great at setting goals, but suck on the progress end. I often forget to consult my lists.
• Procrastinating.
• Not being able to relax. I drive mister mrtl crazy when we're watching a show because I can't sit still.*
• Starting many projects, but not finishing them. My life is full of good intentions but lacking follow through.**
• Having trouble falling asleep and waking up.
• Getting overwhelmed easily.***
• Losing time and getting little accomplished.
• Having difficulty focusing.

*I found a test at www.add.org. I scored 18 out of 24. It recommends talking to your doctor if your score is 11 or higher. Egads! One of the questions was, "How often do you leave your seat in meetings or other situations in which you are expected to remain seated?" Talk about confusion! If ADD is the case with me, I have come up with some great compensation skills. The real question where work is concerned is, "How often do you want to leave your seat...?" When meeting with clients or supervisors, not only did I force myself to stay put, but to take copious notes, even if I was going to receive meeting minutes afterwards. Otherwise, my brain would be all over the place.

**I find that nothing gets my ass in gear better than stress. House need cleaning? Have guests over! Work projects need to get done? Tell me you need it today! It's tiring to always need stress for incentive. This is one of the reasons why I doubt I'll go the anti-depressant route again. It took away that stress, but didn't make me any more productive. Shit wasn't getting done, and I didn't care. I've described this before as the Lotus-Eater Effect (See this and this). The indifference sucked.

***Another example of a coping strategy is with getting overwhelmed when first facing a project. List making comes in handy here, to chunk the task into more manageable pieces. Of course I tend to get completely caught up in the chunking, ending up with a list so long it scares me.

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When I first added this topic for Motif Monday, I had in mind to make my list of things to do before I die. The following list is just the beginning.

15 Things to Do Before I Die

1. Exercise for at least 30 minutes daily
2. Become a decent golfer
3. Run in a 5K (at least)
4. Be a hard body (as hard as this body can be after two children)
5. Read more, including reading the newspaper daily
6. Get a Master's Degree
7. Learn how to play the piano
8. Get a recipe for pineapple Bavarian cream cake that rivals Peasant Village's
9. Take singing lessons
10. Own a 12-inch compound miter saw with extension arms and stand, and make stuff with it
11. Be a tourist wherever I go
12. Visit Europe
13. Go on an Alaskan cruise
14. Travel by train (at least for one overnight trip)
15. Do fun wedding stuff without having a wedding (e.g., try on dresses, have a cake)

I'm sure mister mrtl is having a great laugh over many items on this list. That is precisely why I need to figure out why the hell I have so many problems with follow through as discussed above.

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Hey fellow Girl Scouts! Check this out. I just got my copy in the mail, so it's competing with Harry Potter to get read (i.e., sitting on top of him in my pile of books to be read).

next week's topic: uninvent this

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Note: Links will be added to participating blogs. If you're not included here, please comment with a link to your post.

Bente, Cat, ieatcrayonz, Kristine, Lawbrat

Do You Got the Beat?

Take the 80's Lyrics Quiz. Beat 110.

Update: I meant to thank Vajana for this. Thanks!