Labels: Calvin and Hobbes, The Universe

Ok, so between my sister and my kids, we are now watching American Idol.
Not just watching it, but watching it with commercials!

At any rate, so I can be a total loser sheep, here is what I think :)

Boys first:
Rudy Cardenas, 28, North Hollywood, Calif.: Didn’t care about him.

Brandon Rogers, 28, North Hollywood, Calif.: I ADORE him. I think he will make top twelve for sure!

Sundance Head, 28, Porter, Texas: He is going home tonight.

Paul Kim, 25, Saratoga, Calif.: I do like him but I don’t think he’ll make it through.

Chris Richardson, 22, Chesapeake, Va.: I like him, I liked his Gavin DeGraw song BUT he was bobbing all over the place and that was irritating as hell.

Nick Pedro, 25, Taunton , Mass.: I like him but I don’t think he is very good.

Blake Lewis, 25, Bothell, Wash.: I want to marry this guy (and a few others). He is Yummy :) And I think he is very good.

Sanjaya Malakar, 17, Federal Way, Wash.: Of the guys, I think he has one of the best voices. I didn’t like his song but he can sing!

Chris Sligh, 28, Greenville, S.C.: When he walked in and was all, “I bet you are wondering why I called this meeting.” I fell in love with him. Sadly he and Lakisha are very good but not overly attractive and I think that is what will push them out. But I really like him.

Jared Cotter, 25, Kew Gardens, N.Y.: I really like him. I really liked his song. Made me want to download it (or him, singing it to me).

AJ Tabaldo, 22, Santa Maria, Calif.: Ehhn- don’t care about him.

Phil Stacey, 29, Jacksonville , Fla.: I love him. I was horridly bummed when I found out he was married :( But I think he can sing and he has amazing eyes.



And the girls:
Stephanie Edwards, 19, Savannah, Ga.: Love her. Top twelve, for sure.

Amy Krebs, 22, Federal Way, Wash.: She’ll get eliminated tonight.

Leslie Hunt, 24, Chicago, Ill.: This chic reminds me of someone and I can’t figure out who the hell it is. But I like her, I just don’t think she’ll make top twelve.

Sabrina Sloan, 27, Studio City, Calif.: I don’t like her. She can sing but only if she sticks with the right song. And I think she’ll be going home in the next few weeks.

Antonella Barba, 20, Point Pleasant, N.J.: Antonella will probably go home tonight.

Jordin Sparks, 17, Glendale, Ariz.: LOVE Jordin! I hope that she can keep up because I really like her!

Nicole Tranquillo, 20, Philadelphia, Pa.: I really didn’t like her performance BUT I think she is good and if she picks a better song, she could be around for awhile.

Haley Scarnato, 24, San Antonio, Texas: She’s coming back to Texas in the next week or two and I won’t miss watching her.

Melinda Doolittle, 29, Brentwood, Tenn.: I think she is good, but not great.

Alaina Alexander, 24, West Hollywood, Calif.: really like her, can’t figure out why but if she doesn’t get It together, she won’t make it. I think she could make it to the top twelve IF she starts singing

Gina Glocksen, 22, Naperville, Ill.: Like her – and I think she will make it to the top twelve.

LaKisha Jones, 27, Fort Meade, Md.: I think that this chic will win. And if she doesn’t, then she should because she has, hands down, the best voice.




So, what do ya'll think? You know, besides that I am a total loser with no social life??

Labels: American Idol 6, I'm a loser

(title courtesy of The Girl)
I had big plans for my weekend.
I had decided to paint my kitchen and the furniture in it and I wanted to get as much of it done as possible ON Saturday so I could squeeze all of my regular stuff into Sunday.
I bought my paint (sand color for the walls and ocean color for the trim) and stain ("Atlantic" blue) on Thursday and Friday and all the other stuff I thought I would need: paint rollers, spongy paint brush things, clip on pour deals for the paint cans, latex gloves (mostly for the kids), two rolls of masking tape, a roll of plastic to cover the floor, sander pads for the sander I was borrowing from The Cake Lady, a big bottle of bleach to clean the walls with before I started.
I was totally prepared.
Saturday morning I got up 7ish and began clearing all the crap out of the kitchen. The girls were chomping at the bit to start painting but I sent them off to clean their room before we started. This involved no less than one reminder every two minutes that they were supposed to be cleaning and not goofing off.
At about eleven, I had the hallway prepared. The floor was covered in plastic, the doors were covered in newspaper and the trim was marked off with masking tape. I also had the two pieces of furniture I wanted to stain outside and ready to be sanded AND the girls had finally finished cleaning their room.
But sadly, the painting couldn't start just yet. You see, Saturday was softball tryouts. And every kid that is playing softball HAS to try out, even if they have already been assigned to the same team that they were on the year before (*-*AHEM*-*, that would be us).
So, I vacuum the girls room while they got suited up and deciding that I didn't give a rat's ass what I looked like, headed towards the front door. I tell the girls to get in the car and I will be right there. When they open the door, I hear Em tell Amanda that I had already started the car.
Which I hadn't.
[an aside: There was this one time that I left the Focus running half the night because I forgot to turn it off after jump starting Ruthie's friend's car and I immediately flashed back to that day and had a mini-heart attack that I had forgot to turn the van off the night before.]
So, I run over to the door and sure enough hear a car running, only it wasn't mine. There was a truck parked behind my van.
A truck I recognized to be that of Amanda's best friend's dad's cousin. (Right!? God, I've lived here too long when I am making connections that long.)
Background: I met this dude on New Years day. You see, I had a date NYE and Amanda spent the night at Camille's house. I met him when I went to pick her up... This guy is living in the cabin on Camille's parent's property. I could tell he was into me when I met him but I was pretty sure he wasn't my type. So I was nice, but brief and that was that. I have seen him two or three other times and always been the same way.
He said he was stopping by to talk to my landlord (he has a diesel mechanic shop next door) who wasn't there. I told him my landlord would be back around the 25th. Then he started trying to get chatty with me which I really didn't have time for and certainly wasn't in the mood for. I told him I wasn't trying to be rude but that I really needed to go. We were actually about ten minutes late by that point.
So, I run the girls down to softball tryouts only to discover that they have been rescheduled to next weekend (and I apparently didn't get the psychic memo about that). The girls are pissed because I made them go out on the field with the girls that play in the majors and it was a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y humiliating for them.
On the way home, we swing by The Cake Lady's house to borrow her sander and then head back home.
It is now 12:30.
Do you see how much of my day has already been wasted?
I put Emilee to work painting the hallway and Amanda to work sanding outside. Much to my pleasure, both girls completed the jobs that they had been assigned without bailing mid-way through.
Man, I dig them.
After they were done, they took Trin and went to play outside. I put the first coat of stain on my furniture and then went back inside to finish the hallway (Em can only reach so high) and to start on the kitchen.
At about 4ish, I went back outside to put the second coat of stain on since I knew it would be getting dark soon and I wanted to finish before it did. I am maybe halfway through what is a forty five minute job when my dog starts barking.
The truck is back.
Dude walks over and says hello and then says something about how I sure ran off quickly earlier and did that have anything to do with him! As Jiffinner put it, "yes, I have Psycho Radar and I knew you'd be here thirty minutes before you got here and had enough time to get my kids dressed in their softball uniforms and halfway into the car right as you were pulling into the driveway!"
Seriously?
At that point, not only am I sure I don't want to date this guy but he had just crossed the line from Strange to Officially Creepy.
What sucked was that I had.to.be outside. I wasn't even halfway done staining the table and shelves and it was obvious that I would be out there until I was.
So he starts asking me why I am single.
And I give him his out people. I give him the here, let me save your pride by squashing you even asking me out and having to be rejected speech. I give him the I'm Not At A Place In My Life Where I Want To Date speech. I insert the girls and my job in the appropriate "reason" categories.
Now a bright guy, even a semi-bright guy knows that this is when you withdraw. She isn't into you and if you proceed, she will shoot you down.
You guys do know this right?
But he isn't leaving.
And thank God, Jiffinner calls.
I tell him I need to take this call hoping to give him his out and instead, he goes to his truck to get a cigarette! Not only will he not leave, but now he is going to SMOKE in front of me?!! I haven't had a cigarette in 48 days and you are going to SMOKE in front of me??? ASS-HOLE.
But not only does he saunter (and believe me, he was sauntering) back over with a lit smoke, he is also carrying a bag with not one, not two, but THREE different kind of liquor in it.
At this point, the little pilot in my head is all yelling, "ABORT! ABORT! GET OUT OF THERE KID!!!" And I am like, yeah, I fucking know!
I mean, did he seriously think I was going to just set down my paintbrush and start doing body shots before letting him bend me over the van??
So, as soon as he is in range to hear my conversation with Jiffinner, I say: "Aw shit, you really need me to come pick you up right now??"
Jiffinner dutifully responds as only a true friend would. She raises her voice to a level that can be heard by an eavesdropper and says, "Yes. Right now."
To make it even more believable, I follow with, "Man, Jiffinner, I am right in the middle of something. Are you sure you need a ride right now?"
She reassures me that she does indeed and I say ok and hang up apologetically looking at the crazy dude and his bag-o-liquor.
I tell him I've gotta run and start putting my staining stuff away. Which I wasn't particularly pleased about since I wasn't even done yet. I even pull the girls in on the story and tell them to go and get ready because we have to go get Jiffinner.
He leaves and instead of leaving myself, I send Ruthie to town with the girls to get some dinner hoping that (a) my car being gone will dissuade him from coming back and (b) I can have an hour to actually get something done sans interruption.
I made good use of the time that they were in town and had hit a stopping point by the time they got back with the incredibly amazing and greasy hamburgers. I sat down on the floor with the girls and talked and ate and relaxed for a few minutes. When we were done and the girls had went off to get ready for bed, I went to check my cell (it was charging in the other room).
Three missed calls.
All from him.
No voice mail.
I put my phone in my pocket and went in to start pulling tape down and putting new tape up. Jiffinner had said she would stop by on her way home with more tape and wine so I was more or less killing time while waiting for her to get there. Ruthie and I were chatting and I walked into the hallway to get my tape and heard Chica start barking which was followed a few seconds later by a knock on the door. Ruthie said Jiffinner was here and I went to let her in.
Only it wasn't her.
Oh yes, you guessed it: Leaning up against my doorjamb, all Rico-effing-Suave is the dude again.
I step outside, leaving my hand on the knob which, if you know a thang about body language does indeed symbolize that I do not intend to hang out and am planning to go back inside.
He is saying that he would really like for the two of us to "hang out sometime". Not like hang-out all buddy-buddy but rather hang out, like I am too chicken shit to actually ask you out or my maturity level never rose above that of your average high school student and this is my way of letting you know I'd really like to bang you.
In the iconic words of Alecia Silverstone: "as if"
By this time in the game, I have been pretty clear that I don't want to date. Now apparently, I need to be even more clear in that I don't want to date him.
I tried to spare him. You saw that.
At this point, I have to just tell him no, I am not interested and hope he'll leave.
So, I tell him no, in response to his "hanging out" suggestion. And do you know what he says?
"Awww, you've been hurt haven't you?"
I beg your fucking pardon?
First off, none of your business.
Secondly, don't talk to me like I'm a puppy with a thorn in my paw. I've been a big girl handling all my own shit for quite awhile now.
Did he think I was just going to get all glassy eyed and jump into his arms because he was the first person who thought that I might need taking care of?
I'd have a million times more respect for a guy who actually gave me credit for taking care of myself.
I told him that whether I had or hadn't been hurt was of no consequence and that my answer was still no. So then he asks me, again, why I don't date. And I tell him I've no time and no interest. (Truth of the matter is I've clearly NO prospects - geez.) And he asks me, I shit you not, "what do you do when you need a man?"
This guy had been by my house three times in one day.
The first time, I was taking all three of my girls, clad in their softball garb, to tryouts. The second time, I was staining a table and a set of shelves. The third, I was painting my kitchen. After reiterating all of that, I asked him what exactly he thought I "needed" a man for.
"Intimacy."
While discussing this later with Snakeman, he would laugh and say, "Does he think that you are just sitting around waiting for some total loser to fall into your lap so you can take care of him and give him all the sex he's ever dreamed of and that he is the first lucky guy to stumble across you? Geez Kate, the dude thinks your kids are just trophies for a job well done in the sack."
At this point, I told dude that I wasn't interested and I was sorry but he really needed to go because I was in the middle of painting my kitchen.
He offers to come in and help.
I decline and point out that my sister is here and I am expecting company and he really needs to hit the road. He takes a step back and says that he needs to be honest with me and can he tell me something?
I am hoping it's that I am on Candid Camera.
So, he tells me that he's just recently (as in December) been released from PRISON.
PRISON people.
Released after he served a FIFTEEN YEAR STINT THERE.
I tell him I am still going to stick with my original no answer and that I really need to get back inside.
He says ok and seems to be letting off but when I go to shake his hand (that he offers to me), he hugs me instead (this rated a 9.5 on the awkward scale) and then does the (as The Girl put it) "creepy uncle at the wedding" thing where he slides his hands down my back.
Like if he grabs my ass, I will change my mind. Because forced molestation turns me on so much.
I pull away from the dude and he kind of does that hold on thing with my hips and leans in like he is going to kiss me. I pull completely clear and tell him he needs to leave and that I don't think I could have been any clearer.
And then I get my ass back inside.
And lock the door.
A few minutes later Jiffinner arrives with various bottles of wine and within minutes the creepy visit from Senior Psychopath is forgotten and replaced with catching up and discussing my plans for the kitchen.
Jiffinner leaves and I call Snakeman around ten in a lovely wine haze. He and I are trying to have one of our several hour phone calls and doing a pretty fair job of it as I have plenty to tell him about. I am about to the end of my recap of the day and he is just floored when he and I both hear my other line beep.
"That was him wasn't it?"
It was. I didn't answer it.
About ten minutes later, Chica starts going ape shit by the front door and a minute or so later, there is a knock. This sends Chica into a fit of hysterical barking and me into my bedroom for the baseball bat. I am freaking out a little but I stand in the hallway with my bat and hope he will leave. All of my lights are off and it is one in the morning. Both of these things dictate that he will leave.
He doesn't leave. He knocks again. Then he calls. Then he starts yelling my name outside making it very clear that he has no intention of leaving until I answer the door and since there is no way in hell I am doing that, we are at an impasse.
Snakeman is, at this time, torn between being pissed that he isn't in town, pissed that I don't have a gun and pissed that I don't have a bigger dog.
"Man Kate, I wish there was some way you could hand him the phone without opening the door!"
His suggestion was to call the cops.
Which I really didn't want to do because crazy as dude may be, he is still Amanda's best friend's cousin and I don't want to make waves.
His response, "I'll make sure and tell the coroner you felt that way."
I hang up and call the dude.
"Hello?"
"Hi Kate!" (he says all cheerily)
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm outside your door."
"Yeah, I fucking know where you are! What are you doing there??"
"I brought you some stuff."
"Dude, its one.o.clock.in.the.morning. You don't bring people things at one in the morning!"
"Yeah, but I am leaving tomorrow."
"I don't care. You need to leave now. Right now."
"Ok. I'm going to leave this stuff on the porch. Come and get it ok?"
Yeah because I've never seen a scary movie before.
I hang up and listen to him get in his truck and drive away. Then I call Snakeman back. And ten minutes later when Chica was barking again, he said he really thought I should call the cops.
So I called Jiffinner since her husband (The Bear) works for the police department and his best friend (Big D) is a cop and they were all at Jifiinner's house which is like three minutes away.
Three minutes later, they are all in my yard and The Bear and Big D are going around with flashlights checking every nook and cranny of my property and the neighboring properties and basically making me feel very safe.
After an hour of scouring my property and cracking jokes about how chics never show up at their houses wanting to get laid and bring boxes of food (which is what dude left on my patio). When they'd all left, I went back inside and called Snakeman and he kept me company until two or three and then, despite my being scared shitless, we were both too tired to stay awake any longer.
I fell asleep clutching the phone and the bat.
When I woke up the next morning, I called everyone to let them know I'd made it through the night and called Camille's parents to tell them what had happened. They apologized profusely and assured me that he had left for Dallas that morning and was gone.
That didn't keep him from calling twice and leaving me a voice mail acting as though nothing had happened. He just wanted to let me know he'd made it to Dallas safely and to give him a call when I had a chance!
Wow.
Called Lola yesterday and told her everything. Her exact words?
"Shit like that only happens to you, Kate."
Isn't that the truth.
All I wanted to do was paint my kitchen.

Labels: un-fucking-believable

I wasn't upset about V-day yesterday.
Normally, I get a little bummed out when the rest of the world is running around with little hearts orbiting their heads. There have even been a few years where I wanted to throw things at them and pop the little hearts orbiting around their heads.
You know, like darts.
But this year, I'm fine. So fine in fact, that I baked cookies for the girls to take to school and for me to take to work and bought like eight boxes of Valentine cards so that they could have their choice of cards.
I didn't even feel a twinge of pity for myself.
You hear that Universe?
Not even a twinge.
The day before Valentine's Day, the daycare called me as I was driving home from work to tell me that Amanda had arrived at the daycare and went immediately to sleep on the floor.
If you are a parent, you know as well as I do that when a kid gets off of a bus in the afternoon and immediately goes to sleep, they are sick.
You can actually call your pediatrician and tell them you need an appointment for the following day and when they ask what is the matter, you can say, "she got off the bus and went right to sleep!"
And they will respond with, "oh no, that sounds serious."
And there will be no sarcasm in their tone at all.
Because, universally, kids do.not. sleep unless they absolutely have to.
When I got there to pick her up I could tell without a doubt that she was sick.
She was pink faced and blotchy [read: fever] and still laying down on a mat with a cool cloth on her head.
I squatted down next to her to feel her fever with my Magic Mommy Temperature Taking Hands and said, "oh kiddo, looks like your sick."
She responded with, "it's ok Mommy, I'll be better by tomorrow."
I laughed and told her that I was pretty sure that, while this wasn't fatal, it would be a few days before she was better. And at that, my baby burst into tears.
You see, dear reader, Amanda has a crush on a little boy named Wyatt. Wyatt has very red hair :) And he likes her too. And Wyatt had told her that he was going to be getting her something for Valentine's Day and by golly Amanda wanted to be there to get it.
Who wouldn't right?
And here I was donning my Super Mean Mommy Cape and telling her that, due to her fever, she couldn't attend school the following day?! Inconceivable!
She was trying, pleading with me, to change my mind. She could. not. miss Valentine's Day.
I told her to get her backpack and we would discuss it in the car.
Half way to her cubby she barfed all over the floor pretty much sealing her fate.
February the thirteenth was just about the worst day of her life so far as she could tell.
The rest of the evening she teetered between begging me, crying and pretending as though she were fine and totally going to school the next day.
Then she barfed all over the hallway and realized that no amount of begging was getting her to school the next day.
Well, Wyatt did indeed bring her some things for Valentine's day.


She was so happy and I could remember how cool it felt to be that happy that you liked someone and they liked you back.
I was very jazzed for her.

Triniti on the other hand suddenly became obsessed with boyfriends. She called my mom and began asking her what her boyfriend had gotten her for Valentine's Day. My mom told her she didn't have a boyfriend, which is true and then Triniti went into this loooooong spiel about her boyfriend, Jose.
(Which explains why she gets so weird when I tell her "no way, Jose!")
As things in the house started calming down (as everyone came off of their respective sugar highs), I went to my room to lay down and read the newspaper.
What?
I totally read the newspaper.
Sometimes...
I was reading an article about the Chinese New Year (Feb. 18 begins the year of the boar) when Trin came in and climbed onto my bed.
After she fixed my hair, as she has started to do whenever she sees me, she said, "Mamma? Who's your boyfriend?"
I told her I didn't have one.
She smiled at me and in her tell-me-the-truth-tone said, "yes you do. Who is it?"
Again I explained that I don't have one.
She looked at me for a second, seemingly trying to decide if I was lying or not and after she was convinced of my honesty, hugged me.
"That's ok Mamma. My daddy will marry you."
I told her that I didn't want to marry her daddy.
"Well, who are you going to marry then?"
I tried to explain to her as best I could that I wasn't planning to marry anyone in the foreseeable future and that that was ok.
And apparently failed miserably because she laid her head down on the pillow and started crying.
I asked her why she was crying and she basically told me it was because I didn't have a boyfriend and I wasn't getting married and that was just about the saddest thing her little mind could think of.
Bless her heart.
After I got her consoled and asleep, I got myself ready for bed. I laid down and thought about whether it upset me or not that I was alone, again, this year.
It really doesn't.
With that decided, my brain was able to work on more productive things. Like picking out the paint colors I am going to be redoing my kitchen in this weekend :)

Labels: Amanda, Being Mommy, Triniti, Valentine's Day

The last few weeks, I had been noticing this San Antonio IP address on my blog.
A lot.
Not like stalker a lot, but enough for me to notice.
And maybe wonder if I had aquired a hot reader-boy in SA who dug my blog.
So, then, today, it hits me:
That is totally me.
I didn't realize it because it has a dsl address and I forgot that I would have a dsl address now that I have DS-fucking-L.
Which so rocks btw :)

Labels: Being Retarded, statcounter

Labels: Calvin and Hobbes, Valentine's Day

You know, I blame MooCow (remember him?).
I'll be damned if I can find the post, but it was he who first told me about craigslist's Missed Connections. And since then? I've been horridly hooked.
I pop on there about once a week to see all of the Serendipity watchers (yeah, I have it too - shut it) and read who they are looking for. And every once in awhile, I see a post about some where that I was (like the Joe's Crabshack post) and think, for a second or two, that someone out there actually noticed me while I was eating out with my girls and was still thinking about me when they got home and then decided to put it out there, into The Universe to see if that whole Fate thing works.
Of course, I was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, so I am not even remotely surprised, lol.
But, it's like The Universe's message board.
And who am I to ignore The Universe's message board?

Labels: craigslist, The Universe, Valentine's Day

I want to add 1GB of RAM to my desktop PC. It is a HP a705w. Info from the properties screen:
Hewlett-Packard Pavilion Intel(R) Celeron(R) CPU 2.93GHz 248MB of RAM.
I was looking around on ebay but I am not sure what is compatible :(
Help me? Please?

Labels: Being Retarded

Most day lately have felt like this:




But today....
Well today was a little of this:



and then a little of that:


It was most certainly a good day :)

Labels: Asperger's, Triniti

I believe you can sum up how much fun dating is in one word: Ugh
Yup - all that.
It's tricky, The World of Dating.
It's tricky, in that you forget how much it sucks cow ass to go out there and spend time with absolute creeps with an IQ resembling how many minutes they are hoping it will take them to get you naked guys who aren't your type at all [an aside: possibly no one's type].
Being a chic in The Dating World is much like being a bear in a climate that is mostly winter.
We spend more months out of the year in hibernation than we do actively participating in dating.
And for good reason.
It must be all the grogginess that makes us forget how awful it is. We wake up from our long slumbering period and "put ourselves back out there" and are usually asked out fairly quickly by seemingly attractive and normal men. What we seem to forget is that these "seemingly attractive and normal men" are most likely single for a reason... Such as the last three men I let take me out who engaged in the following charming dating tactics:
The first one called me before I was even out of the parking lot to ask me why I was mad at him.
Now, to be clear, I had done nothing to give this dude any reason to think I was mad at him. Truth be told, until said phone call, I had every intention of seeing him again. But here, a mere thirty seconds after we'd said 'goodnight', dude is ringing me to find out what he's done wrong.
That's when we, as chics, want to tell you to call your mother and talk to her about it because clearly you still need her.

The second one actually said to me right after we met, "Oh! I'm so glad you aren't FAT!"
Wow.
Really?
Well thanks.
He then went on to talk about all of the "fat chics" he'd had the unfortunate experience of having to spend time with as well as knocking pretty much every other chic he'd been out with who wasn't fat.
Why?
Because he found himself either (a) not being called back after a date [shocker?] or (b) being stood up.
Now, while I do possess The Manners, which keep me from doing such rude things as standing one up or blowing them off, I could actually see how it was that other chics didn't feel as though he deserved such a common courtesy.

Now, the winner here? Mister Third Guy?
Yeah, he BIT. ME.
Bit. Me.
You read it right.
Dude bit my neck. And not like a sweet little foreplay type bite, like an I'm-a-fucking-vampire type bite.
He left a bruise.
A bite mark bruise.
And while I am no prude by any means, I don't like for my neck to be bruised post-date.
He almost won out over the guy who tried to french kiss my NOSE. The first time the dude kissed my nose, I thought maybe he missed and was embarrassed and so I wasn't going to add insult to injury... but the second time he tried to tongue my nose, I was out of there.

That all takes about a month and then, we head back into our caves.
To hibernate.
Which, dear readers, is where my ass is headed.

Labels: Being a Chic, Dating

So, I have to tell all of you that I am secretly in love with James Roday.



That is all.

Labels: Who do we love?

There is this lady who I work with and whom I adore. She is in her mid-sixties and exactly who I want to be when I grow up. She is funny, blunt, honest and such an optimist. She flirts with men in their twenties and does so without a single worry that it may be inappropriate. In fact, she has told me "Kate, when you're as old as I am, no one can say anything to you about it anymore." She is herself and you can take it or leave it.
She is fantastic.
I love being able to come to work and talk to her about my weekend or hear about what she went out and did with her grandsons the night before.
She will tell you, unabashedly, what she thinks about someone and it is hilarious to hear someone as sweet as she is, in their sixties no less, say "fuckers".
Today, I was on google looking at office chairs because I want one and if I have to buy it myself, that is fine.
But I want a cool one.
One I can cross my legs in (sitting indian style) and that is a little more comfortable than the absolute piece of shit I sit on right now.
So I found this:

Cool no?
And only a buck twenty nine...
For an extra seventy bucks, I can get the massaging foot stool. Too much? Annhhh-
So, in my excitement, I ask her to come and look at it. She and Jimmy walk over to look and the following conversation ensues:
ME: "Check out this chair! How cool is that?"
HER: "Oooh! That does look nice. But what are those little lines?"
ME: "The massagers!!"
HER & JIMMY in unison: "Oooooohhhhhh!!!"
ME: "Yeah, how nice would that be?"
HER: "Oh yeah... and every four hours you could have the big 'O'! You would just be sitting over here and we'd hear oh yeah... oh yeah... OH yeah!!"
.....
.....
.....
JIMMY: "Hey Kate? Why are you blushing?"

Labels: At work

I was cocky.
I believed that now that I understood how my daughter's mind worked that I could mold the situation and help her control it.
But I can't help the onset of very heavy emotions she feels.
I can't make the anxiety go away or shoo away the irrational fears.
And I can't help her when she feels these things, as much as I try.

Like children with autism and other pervasive development delay disorders, children with Asperger syndrome have difficulty with social interactions.
School.
Every morning when I take her to school, it breaks my heart.
She doesn't want to be there... it's noisy and the other kids behave oddly (so far as she can tell) and there are so many things that could happen and it's all very scary.
"I don't want to go to school, Mamma."
If it were up to the part of me that wants to protect and shield her and keep her safe from fear, I would keep her home. I would stay home with her and teach her everything she needed to learn in school from the comfort of our secure house.
But I couldn't teach her to cope.
I couldn't teach her how to handle situations that frighten her.
And eventually by protecting her, I would cripple her.
So, instead, every morning, I get her dressed and when she says, "I don't want to go to school, Mamma." I hug her and tell her I know and I love her and it will be a good day.
I try to help her find something to look forward to, some light at the end of the dark and scary tunnel called Thursday.
And by the time I leave, she will usually repeat me, as prompted, when I say, "Today will be a good day, right?"
But when I walk out of the classroom and see her sitting there, bravely wiping away her tears and trying to quell the emotional avalanche of fear and helplessness, I want so badly to tell someone, anyone, how completely and totally unfair it is for her.
Instead, I walk down the hallway keeping my own avalanche at bay and hoping, for both our sakes, that today is a good day.

Labels: Asperger's, Being Mommy, Triniti