mrtl

Now Playing at the MRTL Household: Sick and Suck

Sick: The bugs were feverish and spent the day home today. Bug's temperature is still high enough to warrant another day at home, and she also managed to get herself a goopy eye. Weeee! So much for spending my Friday baking cup pies in anticipation of mister mrtl's return (we won't consider that I took that out of the plan of action several days ago) and speed-cleaning for my Ziploc House Party on Saturday. Instead we'll visit the doctor for some eyedrops and the rest of the day I'll try to distract her from the horrid thought that fixated her ire today, that she had RUINED her perfect attendance run and would not be winning an award because she missed a day. The party will be rescheduled; may I be strong enough to simply admire the boxes loaded with Ziploc goodness and not start unpacking it all. (OMG the Box Tops! The temptation to grab them all!)

Suck: Being a part-time employee (aka not salaried), I learned today that I may have the rest of the month without tasking. Just when I was finally settling into a routine here and getting back into the swing of working regularly. There's nothing to do. It's possible that it has to do with the economy, clients holding back on getting contracts cleared for action.

I'm trying to turn the suck into a positive, thinking about all I could get done with a free month. Some thoughts I've had so far include:

- Super-anal house cleaning (e.g., baseboards behind furniture, dusting top of blinds) and file sorting (e.g., teaching files, old bills)
- House repairs (Do I dare try these on my own?) and painting (nothing loud that would warrant repainting later, though)
- Obsessive exercising
- Knitting, and maybe learning how to use my sewing machine
- Volunteering (school, Red Cross, food bank, wherever)

Whatever I do, I want to take advantage of the "free" time. There's a chance that tasking could be available before the end of the month, so the sooner I get started, the better.

Heartburn

I've had heartburn since Monday. I've had heartburn before, but only when I was pregnant and carrying too much weight. No, I'm not pregnant, and having weighed myself and knowing that, despite munching off of four pies over the last week, I haven't gained such a significant amount of weight to bring on the heartburn, I can only contend that this heartburn is my body's involuntary, sympathetic reaction to the horrible event that occurred earlier in the week.

A friend in Alaska lost her baby to SIDS on Monday. He was beautiful and new -- just 5 weeks old -- and even though I never had a chance to meet him, I could practically smell his fuzzy little head through the pictures on my monitor and feel his soft, chubby cheeks. He'd been planned, prepared for, long in the making, anxiously awaited and adored by this loving family. And just like that, he was gone.

It's hard to imagine being in her shoes. I remember very well those first weeks, falling in love, the hormones so strong, the presence so surreal. The crushing blow it must be conjures an old lyric, "Take my heart! I want to lose it."

The little comfort I can find from my distance is knowing that my friend is surrounded by the most incredible group of people. I know that they're going to do all they can to support this family and help them live with this pain. I'll offer my hugs from afar and make a little list of reasons why I've said that she is one of my favorite people from my stay in Alaska.

- More Cowbell!

- Extending her friendship and introducing me to her insane circle of friends. This eclectic and diverse group had all shapes and sizes, colors, backgrounds, economic statuses, sexual orientations, religions and politics. No holds were barred; there were lively debates in this tribe that could -- and did -- turn into hostile arguments, but love and mutual respect were always there and hostilities never lasted long. If this invitation hadn't have happened, none of the following would have either.

- Dorkiness: Matching t-shirts for celebrations, and occasional matching outfits with her BFF.

- Entertainment: TMI at the sex toy party. Seriously, the lady could have been a little more discreet when asking which dildo our host recommended for anal during double penetration.

- Conviction: "I sing like an ANGEL!"

- Lack of Inhibition: Best karaoke I've ever witnessed was her rendition of "My Humps," sang full out and with unrestrained (and possibly choreographed) dancing.

- Honesty: When she realized that a blog she'd been reading belonged to someone she knew, she called me to let me know.

- Restraint: She didn't throw up in my van when I was DD for her BFF's birthday celebration.

- Encouragement: Weight loss group.

- Craftiness: Fellow knitting addict.

- Emboldening: My first karaoke.

- Fabulousness: Gay bars. I frequented a gay bar a couple years out of high school. It had been too long.

- Sweetness: Seeing the love between she and her husband.

- Recommendations: Best haircuts I've ever had.

- Randiness: Alaska State Fair Lumberjack Lust

I'm sure there's more. Many happy memories here. I could go on about the various personalities in the tribe, but that would take away the spotlight.

R, I love you, girl!

My Brain's Not Working Rightly

First it was preparing the house for incoming guests for Pie Day festivities, and now it's an sinus infection, possibly an ear infection, too.

I'm quite miserable. And very unentertaining.

The pie was yummy, yes.

Did you know that January 24th is considered to be the most depressing day of the year? Research and shit was done to figure that out. But I doubted. I was all, "Who could be depressed the day after Pie Day?" I mean, even if you don't have leftover pie, don't you still have fresh memories? And if you didn't have pie on Pie Day, I would think you'd be more depressed ON Pie Day, not the day after. And if you realized the day after that the day before was Pie Day, why would that be depressing? I'd be all, "So I missed Pie Day yesterday? Totally celebrating today instead!" because when is it not a good time for pie? And if you're reading this and are getting all sad because you deliberately chose not to eat any pie on Pie Day because you got all mathematic and shit and figured out that the caloric intake wasn't worth ruining your diet regime, well, then, that's on you, love. Maybe someday those exercise endorphins (aka INSANITY) will wear off and you'll realize that it's PIE that makes the world go 'round.

And now I'm getting more sad because I would hope to be the person who could withstand the Pie Day temptation and stick to a diet regime.

My head's about to explode and I ate an inordinate amount of excessive calories yesterday (moreso to "eat some for" the one who was withstanding)...

Now I understand the meaning of today. Damn.

---

Edited to note that I see my grammatical error in the first sentence of this post ("an sinus infection"). I'm leaving it because it clearly illustrates just how affected my brain is today.

Hungry Man Is Calling

We're in trouble here. BIG trouble. If mister mrtl doesn't stop bleeding real soon, Thanksgiving in the mrtl household is doomed. DOOMED!

::bloody tangent::
The dry air has not been good to mister mrtl's poor nose. Random bleeds today have been prompted by such acts as doing laundry, eating Mexican, watching football, and driving. He's going to bed with a puppy pad on his pillow, for real.
::end bloody tangent::

This morning I discovered that we didn't have enough of the just-add-water mix for our Saturday pancakes. No problem! I pulled out Fanny Farmer and whipped up a batch while Jem held my leg, whining and begging for food because she's so used to the immediate gratification of instant mix that waiting for scratch pancakes was akin to starvation. When the pancakes started smoking menacingly close to setting off the smoke alarm, all hell broke loose. To satiate the hungry little monster, I started flinging whatever food I could find at her. The kids ended up with a smorgasbord for breakfast: toast, bagels, cereal, yogurt.

Mister mrtl typically does all the heavy cooking, but no way is he going to be left to this task if leaning over a pan is going to cause a gusher. Since I can't even remember the last time I cooked anything outside of my standard faire (most of which requires a microwave), I shudder to think of the outcome if I'm cooking for the holiday. We need to make this meal as idiot-proof as possible and then some. I'm not sure that I could even be trusted with mashed potatoes. We do have Potato Flakes, don't we?

Fears About Moving to South Carolina

While trying to be as optimistic as possible about this new and exciting adventure, I find myself Very Concerned on several levels. I'll share them with you.

First of all, there's the humidity. My hair shall be curly again. This wouldn't be so bad but for the fact that I'm currently sporting a flat-iron friendly look; this cut will not curl well. I'm totally screwed here, and it's beginning to affect my psyche. This morning I awoke humming "Journey to the Center of Humidity" and had to ask mister mrtl if he recognized the original tune since I couldn't place it. Ozzy Osbourne's "Journey to the Center of Eternity." See how screwed I am? I've got 80's Ozzy stuck in my brain. You know how that song goes? "There's no present. There's no future. I don't even know about the past. It's all timeless, and neverending. And I think I sing this song too fast." Must I explain? Ok. Bad hair is so menacing that it makes all else stop. You are stuck in time, so everyone will get a chance to see how truly horrid the hair is. And to top it off, you've drunk way too much coffee, so you're talking all fast but can't GO! GO! GO! like you want to on the caffeine rush. This is really bad. ::shudder::

Second, there are the allergies. They shall return. This has been evidenced by the return of Faucetty Nose the second we crossed the border. Faucetty Nose left the building years ago when I first left Maryland. South Carolina is very much like Maryland with its plantlife. I've been using my neti pot regularly to no avail; maybe I need some sort of constant flow through my nostrils... freakin' genius but I think it'd be rather unsightly. I'm so screwed here, moreso than when I lived in Maryland. Why, you ask? OMG let me do the math. 2 children + weakened bladder control + allergies = the need for Depends. If you see a donation PayPal button going up on my site, it's to buy Depends. I'll be needing a lot of them.

Third, it's the South. I hate to generalize, but I've been to the South and have seen the Confederate flags and been asked about my "church home." I know this is not every person in the South; even in small amounts such practices vex me.

I know that these fears are centered around the unfamiliarity, and that they are nothing new for me. I realize it's a way I prepare myself. (To note, I've already located good pie in Columbia.)

As much as Jeff Foxworthy annoys me, I find myself taking on his style in conjuring a list of qualities I do not wish in my search for friends...

You may not be friend material...
... if you display a Confederate flag in any way, shape, or form.
... if you refer to African-Americans using the N word.
... if you want to ask me if I've found my church home.
... if Jesus has called you to save me.
... if you believe that having a cocktail while the kids play is absolutely unacceptable.
... if you won't dance to George Michael with me.
... if your friends must drink sweet tea.
...

I know this list is incomplete. Faucetty Nose has taken a break, which I shall exploit to get to sleep.

That Kind of Day

It's been a rough one in mrtland, yo. Let's recap.

After going to bed late last night (besides still being on Alaska time, Jem refused to sleep and insisted on screaming just before I hit the shower, so she screamed while I took my shower and then settled right down afterwards - WTF?), I woke up early this morning to go into the office.

Tired, I chased my smoothie with three cups of coffee (the first of which with straight sugar before finding the sweetener) and a Boston Cream donut. (Shut up. We don't have Dunkin Donuts in Alaska and I was weak.)

On my first (of several) potty runs, while wrestling Spanxy back up, I realized that I had somehow neglected to change out of my eva-so-unsupportive sports sleep bra. This prompted 1) a constant self-consciousness that the girls were cross-eyed, 2) and staring at the floor , and 3) a fourth cup of coffee.

Work in itself was a study in duplicative effort and and in self control not to bitch slap the first person who tried to cheer me up. Hello? I'm trying hard enough to stay awake and focus on redoing all this work; nothing's going to make me smile, especially with the added distraction of GBT (Granny Bingo Tits). (To whit, duplication was not my error. I'm just saying. Perhaps I'd be more annoyed were it my mistake, but it was a really, moronically, stupendously idiotic mistake.)

Then at home, once the girls --- my daughters, not my boobs --- were in bed, I was back to my big knitting project...

::tangent to describe big knitting project::
I've been thinking of doing this since May. MAY! The planning that went into making my own pattern, with a splended monogram on the opposite side! This knitted bag was to be felted and gloriously displayed by the recipient FER SURE!
::end tangent to describe big knitting project::

... Yeah, "was." After taking all the time and getting damned near halfway through the project, I realized the monogram was not only backwards, but BACKWARDS. That is, a mirror image of non-palindromic letters, IN THE WRONG ORDER. So what do I do? Frog it? Finish it with the error and tell her to always look at the bag in a mirror? GAH! There is no way this is going to be finished for Christmas because I am SO OVER YOU STUPID FELTED BAG, and now I'll have to go shopping to find something else to give the recipient.

grrrrrr... I am so going to sleep now.

----

Wait a minute. In the spirit of balance -- I am a Libra after all -- I will say that today brought wonderful news as well. For one, I got an unexpected call from mister mrtl. Squeeee! Second, I heard the other night that one of my favorite Marines (the one that intended to be strapped to my back) had perished in Iraq. After hearing conflicting information and not being able to find his name on casualty lists online, I sent some emails today. A colleague iinformed me that he had spoken with the Gunny minutes before and could thus confidently assure me that he was still with us.

Ok. I am so going to sleep better now.

in which i bitch yet more about the heat

Call it practice. We'll be going to Maryland for a chunk of summer, and it's hotter and more humid there. I need to prepare.

Besides, there are bigger things to bitch about, but I won't bitch about them. I am not one whose husband has been deployed for a year, then stretched to 15 months. And I am not the one there.

Today our kitchen floor was massacred, the vinyl removed to be replaced. (There was a leak from the fridge a couple months back, the squishy floor our first sign of trouble.) There will be more carnage tomorrow, during which I will need to keep myself and the girls out of the way. I'm dreading spending more time than is absolutely necessary in The Baking Room.

More time outside. Screw the allergies; I'm getting one of those cheap pools from WalMart and shall loll in it. Where's the cabana boy when you need a margarita?

A Bite in the Butt

All those times I laughed at those who complained about it heat. Derisions including the line, "We don't even have air conditioning in Alaska." I'm smacking myself now.

We're in the middle of a heat wave. Sure, look over at the sidebar, see 73° and call me insane for thinking it's so hot. Something's weird here, where flips and tanktops come out at 50 (40 if you're a local); it feels like it's in the 90's. One day before the solstice, the sun comes over the house in the early afternoon and stays there, roasting our family room till the wee hours of the morning. Bug'll be sleeping in a t-shirt and underwear tonight, and Jem's in a onesie. I'm considering putting icecubes in my armpits.

With the heat comes some craziness. Bug actually played in a sprinkler today and didn't complain that her nose got wet. I've decided that I'd rather have the windows open for some fresh air than worry about my [currently horrendous] allergies.

Melting...

Things That Suck

1. mister mrtl is going there.
2. i am stuck on the wrong side of the bridge because of a horrific accident.
3. i miss my family.

Still, I consider myself on the lucky end of things, and it looks like I'll have a bit of tomorrow off so I can go home and get cleaned up. (The jammie bottoms, t-shirt and green polkadot flipflops I got at KMart are hardly acceptable work attire.)

Are you awake? IM me on gmail.

GET OFF YOUR ASS!

Why am I still sitting here when I have the following To Do list for today?

• Eat
• Eat more
• Experiment with cream cheese, coconut oil and Splenda (does it really taste like cheesecake? what if I add cocoa?) OMG it totally does! weeeee!
• Take toys downstairs
• Clean up the kitchen
• Clean up the bedroom
• Do lots of laundry
• Fold laundry
• Put laundry away
• Pay bills
• Clean up the playroom
• Exercise
• Plug in the battery for my camera
• Knit a bit
• Vacuum the playroom
• Straighten the desk
• Combine other To Do lists to see what I'm forgetting
• Call Florida to thank her
• Email lady doing yoga for kids
• Do survey for Bug's teacher
• Add garage sale stuff to mom's group database
• Get rest of garage stuff to garage and priced

Yes, mister mrtl left today. Why else would I be striving to be more productive?

---

For Bente: Mix equal parts cream cheese, coconut oil (I used Spectrum brand) and cocoa (I used Hershey's), plus one packet of Splenda. Do the mixing on a plate, since you'll want to lick it clean (very hard to do with a bowl... I'm just sayin').