mrtl

It Was a Three-Peckered Billy Goat

I thought I learned the lesson to not drink coffee after 3pm. It was much later than that, specially brewed for me by my awesomest friend and personal barista (hee). The coffee had to be tried to justify owning a cup with the design. Hopefully I'll get some rest tonight.

It's a fun coincidence that we are spending our last night in this area at the same hotel where we spent our first. (Remember this and this?)

::historic hair tangent::
OMG I look so much better with bangs. WTH was I thinking with this hair?
::end historic hair tangent

No one's singing tonight, and I traded the Godiva for some Alaska Wildberry caramels. Yes, coffee and caramels. I also had Thai for dinner. My tummy's not very happy.

Tomorrow we will be leaving Alaska, driving to the lower 48. I plan to spend time on this road trip reconnecting with my blog, knitting silly things, and not eating shit. (I've eaten a lot of shit lately and am convinced that I've gained at least 10 pounds in the last two weeks.) I'm sad to leave behind the great friendships I have made here, but am grateful for the sadness; it means I've made connections. I hope to do the same in our new home.

See you later, Alaska. You will be sorely missed.

I want this.

Lookie Here! Ima Bloggin'!

This post is dedicated to my dear husband, who asked me to update the blogs. I'm only updating this one, though, because I'm lazy today. (I've spent all day watching the ANTM marathon. One more to go to see who won and go to bed! More on the stress brought by such a waste of time in a later post, if I get to it.)

Flashing back to Christmas. This year with the trip back East, I didn't get around to shopping till the week before. I had no idea what to get for the bugs.

::tangent for exception::
Last year Bug received this red car with a soft top. Pushing on the top made the car make vrooming noises. One day not long after Christmas, I was doing dishes as Bug was playing with her car. She left it on the floor behind me. I stepped back onto it, breaking it. "Mommy! You broke my red car! I loved my red car! Why'd you break my red car, Mommy?? WHY?!" After a week or so she got over it. Or so I thought.

Bug was eager to meet Santa this year. When I asked her what she was going to tell Santa she wanted, she replied, "Well, Mommy, remember my red car? The one I got for Christmas last year? The one you stepped on and broke? I'm going to tell Santa that I want a new one, but I don't want it to be red; I want it to be yellow instead."

When I later showed her about wishbones and she pulled the bigger piece, she told me she wished again for the new yellow car just like the red car I broke last year.

With as many times as she brought up this car, I was feeling some serious stress about Christmas shopping.
::end tangent for exception::

That's right. The real Santa was at our family's party. He's a close personal friend of my father's. I know you're jealous.

Having so much to do in so little time, I was starting to feel pretty stressed. As it was, Christmas cards didn't go out till a couple days after. Not that I'm giving myself a hard time about this; I hadn't sent out cards since 2004.

On the 20th I had a date to meet Hänni (another blogger met!) while the girls were in school. Weee! I got to AM's to learn that the Hänster was running late. By 2 1/2 hours (shopping, family, priorities, blah blah blah - lol). I decided to stay in town and try to get some shopping done. Imagine my glee when I found, buried behind several small red cars just like the one I broke last year, a small yellow truck that made big vrooming noises. Besides that I did the bulk of the shopping, including buying the materials to make Bug a Super Sleuth shirt. (I later recreated the logo in PhotoShop to print out onto an iron-on transfer. AWESOME!!!)

::tangent for introspection::
It's shit like this that really screws me up. I'm a guilt-ridden procrastinator. I'd like to change my ways, but when things just work out like this, I'm not moved to try so hard. GAH!
::end tangent for introspection::

All of the gifts were later hidden away in my closet, and I sequestered myself in there, bedroom and bathroom doors locked to keep Bug out in case she awoke and came down to visit. Over the next couple days I spent my evenings wrapping.

During the marathon wrap sessions, I became quite the lyricist. While posting this prior to the holiday may have added to the comedy of it, I'm still posting it tonight. It represents the frustration that inevitably comes when sequestered in a small closet, surrounded with toys, trash and wrapping detritus. It's sung to "Oh Tannenbaum."

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Where do you keep going?

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Your location I'm not knowing!

I looked under my leg for you.
First left, then right.
Under my ass, too.

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Where do you keep going?

"Tape" can easily be replaced with "pen," "gift tags," "ribbon," or "scissors." It's hella versitile like that.

Happy New Year!

This girl looks stoned in just about every picture I take of her.

Tits

Censorship. It's struck me lately, realizing I've been free sharing my blog with others. I suppose since I post so rarely these days I've distanced myself from it. Whatev. This was all good. I just had to bite my tongue on the great blogging material.

A local friend recently had a double mastectomy as a preventive measure. Not being the novice knitter I was when Kranki went through hers, I was prepared and confident to knit this friend some replacement parts.

::tangential rant::
AM is smirking at this. I know it. She picked up knitting needles and practically instantly was making fair isle hats. She made some tits, too, and had them stuffed, blocked, dried, and packed to be delivered several weeks before I even figured out how to start them. They looked so much better, too. Don't mind me; I'm just jealous of her fabu tits. Look at them! Look at these beautiful tits!

Compare those beauties to mine. Lumpy, mishapen and deathly pale.

::end tangential rant::

While still in the planning stage, I considered using an extremely soft, albeit acrylic yarn for the tits. I ended up opting for cotton, which is much gentler on tender skin, but the thought of so soft tits was amusing all the same. I knew her husband would be all over those bad boys:

"Honey? Have you seen my tits?"
"What tits? I haven't seen any tits. Why do you think I'd know where your tits are?"
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"In the crack of the chair. Next to you. You shoved my tits in the crack, didn't you?"
"Ummm.... uhhh... Of course not. Hey! What are your tits doing in my crack?"
"Were you fondling my tits? I can't believe you were fondling my tits when they weren't even in my bra! You bastard!"
"But honey, they're SO SOFT!"

It's a good thing we gave her two sets so there's that option.

Where Has the Time Gone?

I seemed to have forgotten about my blog. oooops. Seems to have slipped my mind, what with dealing with a new addiction, the one to Google Earth. However did we househunt in the past without this wondrous program?

Yes, I said househunt. Mister mrtl has received his next assignment, where we'll be heading in the Spring. We've been busy scouring the internet for information about the area, figuring out where we want to drop our crap and send our kids to school.

As hard as it is to make such decisions, I think it's going to be harder for me to decide what to eat here first.

A Tale of Two Poops

Part Poop I

While my parents are in town, I am determined to maximize use of the extra hands. To that end, a dumpster was delivered to my driveway for the week. Today it was filled with yard detritus and various, unworkable and undesirable elements from the garage.

Getting started cleaning out the garage meant digging out my snow tires from the corner. Odys von Pievan is due for a tire changeout. Yes, folks. This is Alaska, and there has been snow in the nearby mountains since the end of September. There's no need to dream of a white Halloween. It's pretty much a given. Anyway, when we pulled the tires out, I dreaded the sight I beheld in the corner. Mice shit. I won't say "mouse shit" because there was too much. Back to the van we went to make sure there were no furry critters in the tires already there. None found, but that didn't make me feel too much better. If there are mice, where are they?? Instead of doing the garage cleaning as planned (i.e., going through teaching boxes and rearranging the backyard toys so both vehicles would fit), the next three hours were spent moving items to inspect the perimeter, sweeping away the multitudes of miniature pellets and looking for food sources.

One cluttered corner showed many signs that the little fuckers had made themselves quite comfortable. The netting for the trampoline stank horridly of rodent piss, and the entire area was bespeckled with crap. And there, in the corner, was the hole. Tomorrow we'll hit the crawl space with traps. Can you detect my excitement? I didn't think so.

After sweeping and bleaching that area, we continued the search for the food source. Did you know that mice like bird seed? The huge bag I bought was spilled behind the yard equipment, intermixed with a plethora of more crap. ugh - They eat and shit in the same place?? Mice are so gross. Once that area was swept and bleached, we straightened up and called it a day. There will be plenty more to do tomorrow.

Part Poop II

After dinner, Jujube did her usual disappearing act. She goes off to play by herself, and reappears in the kitchen smelling horribly. It was bathtime, so I grabbed her to clean her up and get her in the tub. Although I should have learned my lesson ages ago when she pooped in the hallway between her room and the bathroom. Whatev, call me daring. Her changing area is now in the room down the hall from the bathroom, and I carried her bare butt to the bathroom, putting her down and closing the door once there. She went over to the training potty, which is a usual occurence. She'll sit for half a beat, then slam the lid and then try to climb into the tub before getting completely undressed. Today, however, was different. She climbed into the toilet, standing in it doing her little dance for a minute. She then climbed out and sat down. I gave her the potty book, which she wouldn't let me read to her.

I busied myself getting the tub ready, letting her have her moment. When she stood up, I smelled more of that horrible smell. Could it be? Yes, it was! Foul as it was, my little bug pooped in the potty. woooo haaaa!

Another Day, More Low Priority Effort

Today I moved the desk. Yes, all by myself. (Fucker is HEAVY.) I did get some laundry done. When will the stress kick in? The office/playroom is now a disaster area, adding to the list of things to clean up in the next few days.

On another note, I think it was a mistake to get my horny toes on tonight. While I wrote off getting one of these today because of the expense, I am now seriously considering placing an order. It was shared by a mom's group I'm in, along with this. What? Don't you see the importance in keeping your fruit safe? (And oh, my Atkin's friends are going to have a field day with this one. IT'S FOR MY DAUGHTER! lol)

While vacuuming tonight I found a Slava whisker. :(

Sad Goodbyes

Slava is gone. He deteriorated quickly after he stopped eating last weekend and started suffering the effects on his liver. According to the vet, his ashes will be spread in public flower beds in the Anchorage area. If you're driving by one, be sure to say hello.

He was the fifth cat that I've lost to euthanasia. The first was very old and falling apart. The next three were all young, two with feline AIDS and the other (Slava's brother, Vladi) with advanced diabetes. It was the first time I stayed. I should have stayed with the others, too, but was too overcome with emotion to think straight. I'm glad I stayed with him, but the thought of doing it again has me thinking that I'll never have another pet. That in itself is a very sad thought.

Dealing with sick kitty has kept me busy since we got home from Maryland. Keeping busy is good; it keeps my mind from straying into sadness, and there's much more to take care of. The couch in the livingroom is turned upside down, the dust cover ripped off (lake 'o sticky pee inside) to be replaced, and there's litter and fur everywhere.

::furry tangent::
While folding laundry, I instinctively hunted down an empty basket rather than putting it on the bed, because laundry put on the bed will surely be lain on by furry black kitty.

The realization that this isn't going to be of concern anymore isn't very comforting. Who knew I'd miss the thought of finding him purring away on my clean white t-shirts?
::end furry tangent::

We have a dinner party on Sunday, a mommy meetup Tuesday, and an out-of-town guest coming Wednesday. Life goes on, and there's a lot of cleaning around here that needs to happen. I should be stressing about it. Instead of focusing on the public areas, though, tonight I spent my evening cleaning time folding unrelated laundry and sorting through stuff in the bathroom cabinets, throwing away old makeup and checking expiration dates on Nyquil.

Too bad the diningroom table won't fit in the bathroom.

Random Note to Stranger with AK Plates "AKPLYR"

Dear Stranger with AK Plates "AKPLYR,"

Assuming your plates are to be interpreted as "Alaska Player," I must question the appropriateness of putting such a tag on a Ford Focus. WTF? I mean, unless you are, of course, a high school kid, in which case, wheels alone are sufficient.

Curiously,
mrtl

Yes, I am totally judging a player by his wheels. Does that make me a playist or a wheelist?

Reprieve

The thought of euthanasia conjures in me the image of a cat being whacked against a stone wall by its tail a la Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

In this case, Slava is more like the old man trying to get off the cart. "I'm not dead yet! I feel fine! I feel happy! I think I'll go for a walk!"

::tangent to rant a little about my husband's taste in humor::
He doesn't like Monty Python. WTF?
::end tangent to rant a little about my husband's taste in humor::

Long story short, on vet recommendation, Slava has entered rehab. He is in a safe, isolated environment, free of the couch with the come-hither look, free of any furniture actually. He's in my bathroom. Larger than a cage and more oxygenated than death, right? She also prescribed antibiotics, which I'm happy to announce he has choked down with his food, saving me the wrestling involved in getting a pill down his throat. The plan is for him to remain there until the diet change begins to control his diabetes and his UTI goes away.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the best part. The horrendous smell of ass is now contained. Unfortunately, I neglected to remove my toiletries. I'm avoiding taking a shower at this very moment as I dread the ass smell that awaits me. (As well as the fight to get in the door without allowing him escape.)