"The vagina is a self-cleaning oven. You don't want to put anything in there."
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I'm rather pleased to see that someone is visiting from San Diego. How's the weather? I'd like a box of See's, please. Dark. Two pounds. Thanks!
I often wonder about various employers' rules on using their computers for personal purposes. I'm pretty sure that my last job changed theirs after several people in my department got
screwed ass raped spanked. ahem.
I kind of figure if the job is getting done, then letting an employee waste a little time isn't a problem. In fact, I suspect that letting them do so is wise. But I don't have workers so I could be talking out my ass. <---- yeah, that one.
Anyway, hi! Hello! Welcome aboard!
Monday, February 26, 2007
So. We have this well. It's 500 (five HUNDRED) feet deep. Waaaaay down in the murky depths, near the bottom, a wire wore through and shorted the pump out. Our lovely well guy came out and spent 6 hours on a cold, snowy Saturday fixing it all for us. So I can do laundry. And bathe. You know, fun stuff.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Ours doesn't seem to be working.
Okay technically we think it's the pump but still. So we've decamped and are squatting at Husband's parents' place. Where they have water. Which one can use to flush a toilet, say. Or bathe oneself. Or make smashed potatoes and carrots (nummers!).
Nothing to do with our lack of water:
Last night we were watching Grey's Anatomy and I was saying that there are only a couple of us on my moms' board who think the show has jumped the shark and that most everyone else was clucking about how great the last few episodes were (you know, the Huge Disaster! OMG Meredith is drowning! one).
I said, "There are only a few of us who think it's time to dump the show."
In his best 8-year-old boy voice, "Girls are stoopid."
Weather Dude (welcome back, George!) says 8-10" of snow by Sunday night. That means we're only about 25" short for the year. sigh
Husband Officially Sucks because he's eating ice cream (and chocolate) in front of me while I'm on an elimination diet. Fucker. I'm going to smear the rest with dog shit and see if he notices.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I finally went to my midwife to plan out an elimination diet for me and the Dude. I took both kids in for RAST draws and they both came back entirely negative (at least for the things we though of). Yet I was still sure that there was a dietary component, especially since Dude's skin got so much worse after I got the greenlight from the allergist and stopped monitoring what he ate.
Now, on day 4 of a fairly extensive elimination diet, I can already see a difference in his skin. Crazy! His cheeks, which always had a weird, rosy color that should have been cute but wasn't, have cleared up and are nearly blemish free. The weird scaliness on his torso is almost gone. His legs are still sketchy and he hasn't lost the antecubital eczematous patches but even they seem to be a little better. I suppose the primary culprit is wheat. It's too soon for me to be rid of any dairy, I think. I haven't had much with eggs in it, and no actual whole eggs for several weeks. Peanut butter? Probably a few weeks ago.
I was pretty sure wheat was a prblem from early on but I never thought to cut it out of MY diet, so when I took it out of his and didn't see a difference, I shrugged and gave him a cracker. sigh
Stay tuned for updates as they come up.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Masher's body is starting to failing her; she has cataracts on both eyes, and I rather suspect her hearing isn't what it used to be.
Last night Perp was doing her hugkiss routine: "Hugkiss donkey; hugkiss stove; hugkiss piano; hugkiss Masher." Mashy was curled up in her wee bed and Perp clambered over the side to deliver the goods and M lurched up and snapped. One small, single-drop-of-blood scratch and a broken heart. Hard way to end the day, man.
It's totally not the dog's fault, but she's out of the hugkiss circle now.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Husband's parents are devout Catholics. As it is in many homes across this great country of ours, my in-laws begin most meals with a prayer. Perp has learned to sit with her hands in standard prayer position and yell "AMEN!" at the end. I suspect she will be leading the prayer in a few short years. It's remarkably cute and I hope that she is able to develop a framework of faith that gets her through hard times. I really do. I don't ever see it happening to her parents, but it'll be a great way to separate herself from us, heathens that we are.
Imagine my horror (and, I'll admit it, hysterical laughter) when she started shrieking, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" whenever, well, whenever she felt like it. The first time was after she discovered that if she tossed her big rubber ball up the stairs it would bounce back down and smack her in the face, if she stood in just the right spot. Oh bliss! oh rapture unforseen!
Lately, it's popping up in odder circumstances. I can't even think of one off the top of my head, sadly. But her inflection is perfect, astonishment mixed with elation, like she's just won the toddler lottery: access to every drawer and cabinet in the house.
Most Saturdays I go to the local yarn shop and attend a stitch & bitch. It's a nice break, we chat and snack and get all crafty and shit. I'm even resurrecting my long-dead aspirations to be a knitter. I'll keep you updated; I konw you're dying to hear about it.
As I was leaving the house, I heard Perp shouting from the bottom of the stairs. It was a chant that I think Husbands parents would swell with pride to hear. Who knows, maybe she'll be leading dinnertime prayer sooner than I thought:
"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! GOD IS GOOD, AMEN!"