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Grandma & Newborns

Just fourteen years ago, this very minute, I was being wheeled back into my room, and I don’t remember a lot about what was going on around me — but I knew that I was now a mom, forever and ever. 

I remember their dad telling me about the birth, since he watched them being born via c-section, and I was having a personal freak-out because I had a chest cold, an epidural, and was lying flat on my back with no oxygen in and no support for my head. I tried to be present in the moment, but it just wasn’t happening. I kept squeezing Ace’s hand and apologizing for freaking out, and he kept holding my hand and peeking over the screen to watch  two little perfect beings coming into the world.

Joseph was first, a big boy at 7 lbs 1 oz — well, big for a twin, yeah?  He was round and wrinkly, and just so precious.  Anna was next, just a minute later — and I remember being told that she really didn’t appear to be ready to be born, because they had to gently unpry her fingers from inside me.  She was 6 lbs 10oz, still a very good size for a twin, but so different from her brother.  She was so delicate and small, just as perfect as her little brother, but serious where he seemed always ready to laugh and grin. 

Before we went to the hospital, I remember looking at one of the many stacks of newborn diapers that we’d accrued, and pulling one diaper out and looking at it — at how tiny it was and thinking that there was just no way it was going to be big enough for a real baby.  And then when we brought them home and changed their diapers with one of them, realizing how wrong I was.  I was nervous about everything, perpetually terrified that I’d inadvertantly ruin them somehow because I didn’t know enough, or read enough, or watch as many documentaries as I might have.

Anna and Joseph, you’ve both become amazing people.  And you’re only 14! You’re still at the beginning of your path, and universe-willing, I will be beside you on that path for as long as possible.

I love you both, Happy Birthday!

Almost 14, here!

Thanks to Laura Potts for bringing this to my attention:

They will be collecting school supplies for Knox County Teacher Supply Depot in lieu of fines May 3-10, 2009 at all library locations.

One approved school item will wipe out $10.00 worth of fines with a maximum of $50.00 worth of fines removed. Fees for lost or damaged materials or Unique Management referrals do not apply. Approved items include packs of construction paper, a bottle or stick of glue, scotch tape, a box of crayons, index cards, packs of ink pens, packs of notebook paper and post-it notes. All items must be new and in the original packaging. No used items will be accepted.
For more information, call 215-8750.

Eric? Calling Eric Trisler? I believe it was you, was it not, that had some leftover fines?

So, I brought the last of my lasagna to work today for lunch, and it’s still freakin’ delicious. Next time, though? I’ll freeze smaller portions, because there really is such a thing as too much lasagna when you aren’t hungry for the rest of the day after eating just one piece.

We’d also had a team meeting today, and Vicky brought in some Oreos as a snack for everyone.  This is me laying the groundwork, just in case you hadn’t noticed, for my awesome lunch-dessert.  Anyway — I popped the lasagna in the microwave to heat it up, and once that was done, I walked back to my desk.  Between the microwave and my desk was the tray of Oreos, so I took a few (ok, I took four.) and popped them on top of the plastic lid of my still-very-hot lasagna before going the rest of the way to my desk.

Taking the lid with the cookies off the bowl, I set it aside and didn’t think about it for the next 30 minutes of enjoying my fabulous lasagna.  But when I did pick up the first cookie and twist-and-pull as one is supposed to do with Oreos? The frosting/white stuff in the middle had gotten very warm and melty — and had stayed that way. Oh. My. Goodness. Not only did it make the Oreo experience even more enjoyable and fulfilling — I only had two cookies before my sweet-craving was satisfied. Which is a win, in my book.

In other news, I’ve been catching this new show on Lifetime that my mom pointed out to me called “Cook Yourself Thin”, and it’s GREAT. The ideas they have are completely doable, and though just like a lot of other diet cooking shows, they say that they want to give you the foods you like without the guilt of fat and calories — I actually believe it’s possible with some of their recipes.  I especially liked the spinach and mushroom veggie lasagna — mostly because I know my three cheese lasagna was of the “no no” variety.  The recipes are easy, and they LOOK delicious.  I’ll be keeping an eye out for the book, too.

http://www.mylifetime.com/on-tv/shows/cook-yourself-thin/recipes

Friday at work was one of those days that just didn’t want to end.  Brought to you by the words ‘Slow, slower, slowest’, the number Infinity, and the letters ZOMG.

That seems to be par for the course lately — the week rushes by, I wonder what happened to my days, then Friday comes with the delicious weekend taunting me on the other side of my work-fence.  Then the weekend is over in a blip, and it’s Monday again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

This weekend was pretty freakin’ awesome, though.  I made a ginourmous pan of lasagna and Eric and Venture came over to partake of it.  Sara from work stopped by, too, but there was no partaking for her.  Very sad, really.. but she had already eaten with her mother, so I suppose I can forgive her.   The boys and I drank a few Yuenglings and a few shots of black cherry vodka, and got down to some serious chin-wagging. Largely about Pink Floyd and the drama behind the creation of “The Wall.”  Good times. (and I don’t even mean that sarcastically! It was good times. Hell, it was GREAT times!)

I was supposed to go out to Pelissippi to meet up with Venture the next day to see Ed Buckner give a talk sponsored by the Rationalists of East TN entitled, “This Is a Free Country, Not a Christian Nation: In Freedom We Trust.”  However, I missed it due to sleeping too much.  Oddly enough, according to Venture, he missed it too for the same reason, even though he was actually in attendance.  Apparently he got there early, took a disco nap, and no one wanted to be rude and wake him up once the talk started. Hehe. Ah well.

So, instead of that, I ended up heading out to lunch with Sara and her roommate Teak to Makino’s for a sushi buffet.  Oh my gravy, but I love Makinos.  They had a roll — it was shredded crab (the real stuff) and some other nummy thing, rolled in rice.  And then tempura battered and deep-fried.  Topped with cheddar cheese.  Dude. This is not sushi, this is comfort food!  But you know what? It was DAMNED good.

Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo, and I’m bringing in bean salsa to work — Robert better be bringing in the scoops.  And for anyone not in the know? Bean salsa is THE FREAKIN’ BOMB-DIGGETY. To prove it, here’s the recipe:

Bean Salsa

1 can pinto beans
1 can black beans
1 can black eyed peas
1 can shoe-peg corn
1 can Rotel tomatoes with chilis
1 bunch of green onions, chopped
1 bottle of Zesty Italian Dressing
*optional: cilantro
Put everything in a bowl. Stick in fridge overnight. Eat next day with scoops tortilla chips.

Easy, right?  And I’m typing that from memory, so.. Mom — was that everything?

I’m currently part-way through the fourth installment of the Mercy Thompson series, a really entertaining set of books by Patricia Briggs.

Mercy Thompson is a ‘walker’, not to be confused with a skin-walker, who finds herself caught up in the troubles and politics of the Fae, the Werewolves and the Vampires.  She’s a poor little Coyote who just can’t catch a break sometimes.  She’s an appealing character who doesn’t ‘Mary Sue’ her way through her various trials and tribulations, and makes some rather tough decisions without being insipidly obtuse, or spiteful.

The first book, Moon Called, introduces Mercedes (Mercy) Thomspon as a VW mechanic in Kennewick, Washington.  Having been fostered as a young child with a werewolf pack, she understands the requirements and duties of ‘pack life’, but has set herself outside of that sphere, choosing instead to live her life on her own terms, and by her own set of rules.  With a degree in history, she credits Zee, the fae who sold his garage to her, for providing employment after college that didn’t include the phrase “would you like fries with that?”

All in all, a good read — and a quick one.  Easy brain candy, without a lot of guilt (there’s plenty of romantic tension, though!).

My coworker Tony has a brother who’s at Fort Knox — he just started Basic Training last Friday.  Tony is sending him words of encouragement, praise for serving, that sort of thing — and he is sending it on a card in a blue envelope.

Apparently, the more blue envelopes one receives, the more phone privileges one receives.  I know it’s got to be hard, that first week of Basic, so I’m encouraging all of my friends to please send along a card in a blue envelope to Private Adam Fairbanks.  Tony ok’d my giving his address to you all.  And if you know of someone else who is in the same situation, please say so, and we can do the same for them.

PVT Adam Fairbanks
1st Platoon – Wolfpack D Company 2/46 INF
3576 Wilson Road
Fort Knox, KY 40121

Thanks so much to you all, in advance.

Apparently a movie was released in 2008 called Side By Each that takes place in (of course) Rhode Island.

 I found this because I was telling a coworker about the quaint colloquialisms of the predominantly French-Canadian residents in Woonsocket, and lo and behold, a movie

What’s amusing to me most is that the main character’s name is “Salty.”  Hopefully, his last name isn’t “Brine,” or there’s likely going to be a ruckus.

Any of you folks recall any other good Woonsocketisms?

Write a 26-line poem using all the letters of the alphabet, where the first line starts with the letter “A,” the second “B,” the third “C,” etc., culminating with the final line starting with “Z.”

Blind Date

“Always wear clean, normal underwear,” my mother says. And yet
Before I leave my home, the last thing on my mind is
‘check your panties’. No–I’m channeling
Darcy, as my mind is definitely more agreeably
engaged.  And that’s probably why I can’t
find my keys. Dammit, damn it all to–
good grief, there they are. Alright..keys, directions to the
hotel, obligatory gift for the couple who are the
idealized version of happiness that everyone else will
judge their own relationship by, and find lacking. I wonder if I’ll get to
keep the centerpiece, or if I’ll have to
look around it just to
make conversation with my devastatingly single
new date,
oh so helpfully acquired in a fit of
pique — not my fit, my boss’s fit — at my seemingly
quaint little notion that it would be perfectly acceptable for me to
run along to a wedding without a date, to go
stag as it were, and that’s just not going
to happen at her pretty princess’s nuptials. You have to
understand, the date she picked for me was delicious,
very goal-oriented and not
without a sense of humor. I know this because as I tripped on the raised
‘XXVIII’ inlay on the hotel floor, he helped me to my feet and said with a smile,
“You’re wearing
zebra satin underwear.”

Many thanks to Writer’s Digest’s Writing Prompts for the exercise.

Having just finished watching ‘Marley and Me’, I feel compelled now to wax reminiscent about my own dog experiences.  There haven’t been many, and there has so far only been one dog that crept into my heart in any manner that might be comparable to Marley and the Grogans.  He was the last dog I ever had, and I’ll get to him in a moment.

I’m told that the first dog I ever had was Oggie. I was very little and remember absolutely nothing about him. But he was my introduction into the dog world, and maybe his short stay was a foreshadowing of my future relationships with dogs.

The next dog was, I believe, Rug.  Rug was brown, and cute.. he and I saw snow for the very first time together.  Oh, and he was called Rug because he was always underfoot. Maybe he liked to be stepped on, because it happened frequently.  I don’t remember what happened to Rug..  He lived with us in Coventry, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t come with us to West Greenwich, when we moved to the mini-farm.  So he was part of my life for maybe a year, if that long.

When we moved to West Greenwich, we had a little house on about 3 or so acres.  My bedroom had a washing machine in it, and my window faced the back yard.  I snuck out of it more than a few times, when I was 11 and 12. Anyway.. we had a beagle puppy for a very .. very short period of time. I don’t remember his name, I just remember that he would not ever be quiet. His first night at our house, we put a gate up on the pantry door, I think.. and that was where the beagle was going to sleep. Only he didn’t. He cried allllll night. And I remember getting in trouble either that night or the next day for yelling at him to please.. please just be quiet.  He continued to be a very vocal dog, and didn’t last long with us, unfortunately.  I remember he was cute.

Next was Precious. Precious pup. A sweet black and tan coon hound that was adorable, loveable, and fun.  I have pictures of me with her, when she was just a puppy, and when she was a little older — but I confess to you now that I have very little memory of her, except for the last few months we had her.  Our neighbor across the street had some sort of shephard who’d got out and had his way with Precious .. and then she had puppies. A lot of puppies.  At this same time, we had a cat, Stormy, who’d had a lot of kittens.  It was fun watching the puppies herd the kittens.  Around and around the house they’d go, and I never got tired of how comical that was.

The puppies were exuberant, and took joy in everything they did, and they did it as a mob.  Unfortunately, they took a little too much pleasure in tormenting the other animals on the farm, and got to some rabbits that we’d had.  I remember being told that since they’d all gotten a taste of killing, that they weren’t safe dogs to have around other animals anymore.  They were put down, as far as I know. I remember crying a lot over them being gone.   And we didn’t get another dog.

After that, it wasn’t until I was living Ace and his father, Joe, that another dog would come into my life.  Her name was Georgia, and she was a gift to me from Ace. We’d picked her up at a flea market, and she was some sort of fuzzy mutt, with chow in her I think.  She didn’t stay inside with us, which may be why she barked all the time. But we were living in a rental house, and it just wasn’t going to work out.  She was too loud, and there either were going to be complaints, or there already were complaints, and she had to go.

Eventually Ace and I moved out of Joe’s place, and up to Knoxville. We had a tiny little three-bedroom apartment on Broadway in Fountain City, over a vacuum and sewing machine shop.  I don’t remember how Floyd came into our lives, but he left a huge mark on me.  And a huge hole in my heart.

We named our newest dog Floyd because Ace and I were pretty huge fans of Pink Floyd — I still am.  We had a pirhanna named Vera too. For the same reason.  Floyd was an adorable puppy, a mix of wire-hair terrier and husky. He was beautiful to look at, loved to be held, and had soulful eyes.  Like he actually was paying attention to what you were saying and gave a shit, too.

Floyd wasn’t the brightest dog about some things, but he did actually train well on a few things.  He learned to scratch the door when he needed to go out — yeah, I think that was the only thing we ever were able to teach him.  He had a love of bottle caps.  And back then, Ace and I pretty much lived on Diet Coke and Snicker bars, so bottle caps were plentiful.  Floyd’s favorite game was for one of us to put a cap on it’s side and then push down on one end so that the cap would go skittering as fast as possible across the wood floors.  Oh MAN he loved that game.  He would pounce on the cap and try to make it do the same thing, and then whine a little when he couldn’t until we took it and performed our human trick for him.  Ace and I were very much more trainable, apparently.

I remember one time we’d skitted the cap across the floor and Floyd very expertly slapped his paw down on top of it at just the right point so that it fit snuggly up around one of the pads of his paw.  When he moved his paw, he heard that noise that delighted him.. the skittering cap.. but where was it? I don’t remember how long he did that for, but it felt like forever, and Ace and I laughed until tears and pain came.

Floyd liked to go for rides with us in the car, especially if we were going to be stopping at a drive-thru. He was shameless, and not above using his good looks on unsuspecting fast-food workers.

As Floyd got bigger, he got a little louder.. we couldn’t hide the fact from our landlord (who owned the vacuum and sewing machine business downstairs) that we had a dog, and he wasn’t cool with it.  Ace’s grandparents had a house in Powell, about 20-30 minutes away from where we lived, and they had space where Floyd could be happy, we hoped.  We were sad, bringing him up there to stay.. and sad coming home without him. The last I remember hearing of Floyd was that he’d ‘gotten loose’ and run off. We weren’t ever able to find him, and I was heartbroken. I’d felt like we’d abandoned him, and now he might be out in the cold, without any home at all, and it was all our fault.  I still feel that way, 15 years later.  I haven’t had a dog since then, and I won’t.. not until I’m sure I have the right home for him, and for me.

How much do I love WordPress right now? A lot. A huge lot. It’s made running my site and my blog so easy that I don’t even flinch anymore when I get that little “a new version of wordpress is available” notice.  I used to flinch. A lot. Now, all I need to think about is backing up my site, and then the update is just a few clicks away.  Marvelous.

Anyway, I love it. If you don’t, that’s cool. If you use it on your own website, then feel free to squee with me.