Not stuffed.

No food porn this year.  Just a little turkey:

Had I not cooked it, I suppose I would have been all over photographing it, but I was more busy preparing (BTW - our stove/OR or electrical system broke?!  ON TURKEY DAY.) and cleaning it up.  I sort of forgot to take photos, aside from this kid right before everybody was set to go home.

As for food?  I ate my body weight in cheese.  I knew that would happen, and I had no room for ANY dinner, At. All.

I ate cubes of cranberry cheese, Gruyere, two spears of asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, two hunks of andouille sausage with caramelized onions, Brie with glazed pecans and walnuts, three roasted onions with balsamic vinegar and nothing else until a turkey sandwich now at 7 pm.  I seriously had NO turkey, no potatoes, no traditions - AND I PREFERRED IT THAT WAY.  (This may be why I don't cook often, because I want all of these type of things.)

The weather outside is (just ever so slightly) frightful.

It's snowing this morning, the second day in a row.  I am not having it.  Though it looks lovely, and it will eventually cover up the yard that needs work so we don't have to see it, I AM COLD. 

We have two spots in this house that are set up for a wood stove - an old crusty one is already in place - it looks rough and needs to be checked but I am getting enough of a chill so that I might want to spark it up pretty soon.

I'm cold.  I don't even want to think about how fast that next oil delivery is going to happen.  Ssh.

This what you call pie.

I ain't baking.   Dig in.  I'll leave that to Mr. MM.  He's made TWO double batches of Never Fail Peanut Butter Fudge in the last two days.  I have no words.

The wildlife in this new neighborhood means business.   Not only is our dog in need of medication, because she has developed a serious tic from the fear of ki-yo-tays, I am starting to think maybe she saw my cat Get It.  It won't always be this Wild.  They are tearing our trees down and building crap across the street in the woods within a year, and things will change.   This was part of the reason why we moved here, we bought a big house and we hope that we bought some equity.

But for now, it's slightly woodsy, and the squirrels mean serious business, or they want me to make pie.

I will start early.

I signed on to MySpace yesterday, and one of my friends already got the Santa/Pedophile picture done.

It's officially GRINCH season.  I'm getting in the mood early then, eh?

I have no plans for my kids for gifts.  Nada.  They may be getting a fence and shot-gun.  Uh-yup. 

The spouse is twitching and making Cranberry Nut Breads, he works for a b@nk and it's making for high anxiety overall.  You can't read news about his institution (or any) without wondering when (not if) it's going to happen.

Spooky!

I can so do this! Look kids, Tampon Fun!

Lists.

• Coming.  I mean it!  I have things!  I found ISS Oh Yeah RTD, no I lie, I personally did not find it, but I have some in the fridge - and I may actually DO A REAL LIVE (sorta) YouTube today if I can get the two year old(!) TAZ in for a nap.
• We also have a new skool schedule here, and it's screwed us up.  The day is different.  My 11 year old is now in middle school, and it's a Bit Overwhelming, with a locker, a combination, and BOOKS!? 
• But, we're nearly unpacked, and realized how little crap we have.  I need a Furnishings Fairy, ASAP, or An IKEA Instant Button?  Something, anything.
• I realized last night that we may have to move a room or two around already.  One child is not having his room where it is, it's spooky.  We gave him a giant room in the lower level - and it's just too far away from us. 
• And, I think I need to move this computer set up to where the livingroom now is (we didn't have a livingroom before - OR an office - now I have both?!)  but being in here, I can't see what SHE IS DOING (right now she is physcially sitting in a cardboard box watching Doodlebops) and that's no good.  I don't want to lock the tornado in this small room with me (the "office") I would rather move me out to the giant room.
• Seven days to get on a plane to California.  I ripped my hot for teacher dress (I brought it with me to Texas, I forgot to unzip the side to take the stupid thing off!) that I was wearing on day two.  SHIT.  I sent it off with Bob to the dry cleaner/tailor to see if they'll fix it fast.
• I have my costume here.  I am afraid to try it on.  I still need shoes to go with it.  I tried it on.  It will work.  It's a little big in places, but, whatever.
• Um.  There's loud noise, GOTTA GO.

Change of address, change of heart.

We are supposed to sign on the house tomorrow afternoon, but if you've ever bought a house you know that these things never go smoothly. 

Just now the phone rings:

"The house failed the fire inspection."

In Massachusetts there are laws about CO2 alarms, and smoke detectors, and the seller/the bank did not install them.  Now we just have to hope that a contractor for the bank gets down there and does it before tomorrow morning so that Fire Department can go back and re-inspect.

I was thinking about sending change of address cards (not necessarily these) after we move.  Seeing as we really never invited people over to this house because it's so small and we have no place for company - we might be inclined to do so there.  We won't be ready for company or have enough furniture for a long time - but - we will be able to turn cartwheels in the living room if we want to, and that is a big freaking deal.  We've never had a "housewarming" so maybe we will?  I don't know.

My eleven year old said last night, this is a huge breakthrough, I may have sighed out loud, had she not been standing there, I might have collapsed:

"I really want to move.  That's a nice house, Mama."

THANK YOU.

Airing our dirty laundry.

One of the small changes in trying to live a little more green this year in our household was swapping out our top-loading typical style clothes washer for a high efficiency front loader and high efficiency dryer.

Read the full post at this link at Filter For Good...

Further proof that I am just not meant to be domesticated.

When you are using dry grains, like, perhaps, barley, for a child's school project, to fill something, and it gets messy, do not take it to the sink. 

Because? 

What happens the next morning?  The grains swell to a billionty times their normal size, and your sink is beyond clogged, and nothing you do is going to fix this.  Oops.

I have been messing with it for three hours.  I've given up.

Spring, change is in the air.

It's only 39 degrees outside, but it's bright and sunshiney enough outside for pseudo spring-like cleaning, because your spouse is home to help get the the grill out of the shed and get the propane from the store.  So even if it's 39 degrees outside right now, some of my windows are open because I'm doing some spring-like cleaning, because, my allergies kicked in and that means, it's officially spring for me.  I don't know what is doing the pollen thing right now, but it's kicking my nostrils.  Achoo.

The plan today is to clean until my nose falls off, shower and take a long walk while Mr. MM has his long distance phone interview.  The 'view process is a long one, which generally involves at least three steps, so, I don't expect anything to come of it for at least three for four weeks, but, This Time Would Be Really, The Best Time Of All For Something Positive To Happen.  If in the supremely lucky chance he *did* get the opportunity to take this position on, it's a Monday through Friday work week, nearly normal hours, albeit longer at times since he'll be in the car more often to longer distances, but never further than a 45 minute commute for one location. 

If he got this position, I wouldn't bother applying for work until at least September if at all - and maybe just go to work to pay for college courses and pocket money.  That BU Digital Photography program really stuck out to me - but at the cost of more than $20,000 for just a few months, paying that back soon after finishing... is a scary proposition, but if he had that job, I could consider other programs at least more seriously than I am now.

Otherwise, if things remain the same, I'm still looking.  I'm going to need to work and drive quite soon.  The anti-seizure meds are working.  I feel fine on them, no brain dope, just tingling in the feet and hands, and no seizing, thumbs up. 

I am going to ask for the okay to just do it - because we must move on. 

I've picked up some applications - some retail stores (NO PLEASE NO NO NO.  But, it's what I know.  It's how I roll, as my boy says.) 

Coffee shops, the one closest to my house needs as Ass Man-ager:  "Tips, Beth, tips?"  Shut up.  "Do I want to drop dead because I'm munching on donut holes all fucking day long?" 

But, I hold on to them, because I'm stuck right at the moment, even if I did fill them out and "get a job," I can't really get there, even if I drove him to work every day and stole the one car we now "share."

I'm not whining.  I swear.  Back to the sprung-cleanin'. 

Covered in cheese.

Hey there.  Family party tomorrow.  That means Beth is making the obligatory ginormous pans of  MM's Kick Ass Mac and Six (or seventy) Cheeses which are not at all gastric byparse friendly, but are family-friendly and get eaten up entirely.  So.  I'm not dead, just cooking.

If your pooper tank is held up with duct tape?

You might be a redneck.

So listen:  Mama's climbing the walls.  We live in a Very Small House circa 1969, that was built for people not as large as we are nor as prolific.  We tried to sell it.  Twice.  We can't sell it.  The real estate market is in the poopter.

On That Note?  Guess what's in my backyard today? 

*Note:  The fence piece is there as "protection," or "Don't fall in the poop, kids."

Longer story short, our town requires inspections of septic systems previous to starting construction of additions.  We had an inspection last week, but it was re-done today, because The Town needed to give it a looksee and now I know why.  Upon breaking ground and doing a little digging, the inspector went slightly too deep and broke something, when he went to check it out, he realized he'd ripped out the electrical source to the shed (no loss the shed is going bye-bye) and some hose.  Hose?!  What you see above - is a piece of corroded hose stuck together with duct tape, that was my septic system.  In the manner that we have found MOST of the things in the house, it's been broken and put back together with ****ing duct tape.  I hate writing about it, because I would like to sell this house someday - and I am afraid it will be cached somewhere and come back to bite me in the ass - but know this!  When we fix poop, at least it will get completed correctly, seeing as we cannot do it ourselves, and we have to hire professionals.  Whomever the morons were that lived here prior?  Handy, I tell you!  "Jes gimme a roll ah dat dere tape, and we'll fix err up good."

So, we need an emergency fix.  We have a company coming out tomorrow to do an emergency something - and they'll be back next week to replace the pieces that need replacing.  How exciting.

I got a present!

The taxes husband bought Mama a gift from her wish-list, well, not technically from the wish-list (which now must be updated, more than once, squee!) but he picked a Very Reasonable Facsimile.

I think he feels a little bit bad for her and doesn't want to find her stringing her babies from the shower rod when he gets home from work.   So, the answer?  Give me cappuccino.  Sure.  It's not like I won't order one when we go out, but, come on, a little decadence can't hurt at home*, too, considering I am stuck here. 

(*That Validates The Cost Of This Damn Thing, so I don't want to hear a word about it.  Technically, I am saving all sorts of money by being here at least five out of seven days!  No gas, no shopping, it does add up, even if I don't want it to.  I wasn't going to share this, because I know how it looks, because, I bitch, moan and complain about finances, but... this is something special.  Be happy, damn it.)

This post brought to you by...

Avoidance.  This morning, I decided, "Today! Is the day - I get through the basket of random socks that hasn't been sorted, well, ever!  Today!  I will get this done!"  Then, trumpets sounded, the skies opened, and, I took a photo of the pile.  This pile of odd socks, has been in my bedroom, piling up in a huge basket.  I am not a sock pair-er.  I wash and toss.  I have never been good about getting laundry from point A to point B.  I get it clean, folded, and that's it.  It's up to you to put that crap away, and do you think anyone does?  I always drew the line at socks, too. 

It is bad enough that I have to deal with five people's undies every single day, but socks are ultimately worse, and I cannot stand the repetitive nature of matching socks.  Wash and toss, kids, wash and toss.  When they need socks, they hit the baskets, but this basket had turned into The Land Of Misfit Footcoverings.  There are stained for life socks, holey socks, Halloween socks with blinking eyeballs, pink camo socks, newborn baby socks, and, a knot of preschooler sized stained knee tights.  My goal today - is to find any salvageable bits in this pile.  I will conquer this mountain.

I must say having been taking anti-seizure medication for a couple of weeks, the last few days my level of housewifeness has increased, even if my brain power has decreased.  (Note to self, wait just a dog-gamn minute!) 

Even if I have been increasingly unable to form a coherent sentence verbally, I have made more than three meals this week.  Holy poop.  That doesn't bode well for my rear end, because if I start cooking, I will start eating.  (Yes, I realize that sounds disordered, but I haven't really eaten "meals" in four years.)  In this time frame that I have become more of a dutiful bitch, I have also gained a few pounds, and that makes me very cranky.  I shared my concerns via email with the doctor, and we have swapped medications, although it is likely that this new medication may cause similar reactions with my mood and make me need the short bus even more, I Like, Totally Won't Get Fat. 

(My next post, come back later.)

Like, sigh, for sure.

The dog.  Isn't going to work.  At least, not in her current state of puppy. 

She just knocked Tristan on her head - onto the stone tile floor.  Twice. 

The second time, she didn't hit anything, she caught herself, but... it's preventable.  I know it's entirely accidental, and she's just a puppy, and Tristan is just a baby, but it's much less accidental when the "puppy" is kicking my ass in the same fashion. 

Just as I started typing this - the fence company came here to estimate the cost of fixing my broken fence.  Which has been that way for like, two years?  (A big tree came down, forever ago, we still haven't had the second half of it removed, it's not on our property.)  The dog will find a way out, even with the fence back at 100%.  Maybe I'm just too empathetic to dogs,  but  I cannot feel good about leaving her tied to a run or a tree.  And, leaving her entirely for hours while I'm at work is no good either.  This is why we adopted out our last dog, because I was working and felt guilty about abandoning the dog at home.  The kids, get sitters, the dogs, get a freaking tree.   She's spending part of every day like that right now - since she's been fence hopping and taking off to where other dogs roam.  Many in our 'hood allow their dogs to go as they please, which is a huge temptation for my kind of fenced in dog.  She's got to deal with neighbor-dogs coming up and poopting on her perimeter.  But, that's my fault, right?  Gah.

ETA:  Just after publishing this?  She got off of her run, broke her collar.  I had two collars brand new - waiting, both too big.  I just spent the last ten minutes making a hole in the too big leather collar, because!  She's also got a chain, but it's way too big, and I hate using them. 

In other news, I have a headache, and apparently I was talking in my sleep last night.  Bob asked me if I remember waking him up.  No.  Then, I mumbled nearly incoherently, that I "need sugar, I think I need sugar."  Maybe I did?  I told him to wake me up next time to see if I'm hypoglycemic while sleeping, and more so than during the day.  If I had some serious lows overnight, it can cause headaches and so forth now.

Tomorrow - my oldest daughter is ten years old!  We're partying next month, so tomorrow is probably just dinner out.

Also, the walk - though I will make a separate post for that.

Weight

• Don't. Ask.  But, moving on?  No, wait, you need to see - 167.  I fluctuate so much, and eating nearly the same all the time.  This is maintenance, on quite "few" calories.

Ate

• 1/2 ISS Chocolate Caramel Bar (140 calories)
• 1 pretzel rod (50 calories)
• 1 flax tortilla + 1 slice muenster cheese (110 calories)
• 1 whole wheat mini-bagel (70 calories)
• 1/3 C ground beef + brown rice mixed up (guesstimate - 200 calories)
• 1 cranberry orange muffin top (I am so freaking lucky I didn't dump on this, I should have! Guessing 150 calories)

I think we will end at about 1000-1100 calories with my coffees added in.  It's 9pm.  I always eat before bed - so - I'll call it a 1300 calorie day.

Doesn't it suck - though, that this is without eating any "meals" - doesn't it look like, nothing?!  Do you understand how HARD it is to lose weight at this stage?!

housework.

housework., originally uploaded by sarah.marley.
We already knew this - but now it's a proven fact:  Married men do less housework than women.

Average percentage of housework that men and women in eight countries (from a total of 28 surveyed in 2002) report performing:

	Men	Women
Australia	39.1	70.3
Czech Republic	32.2	28.6
France	30.9	78.3
Israel	29.7	75.1
Mexico	36.2	70.4
Russia	35.8	68.6
Sweden	36.3	67.3
United States	37.3	70.6

"The very word 'marriage' is so deeply associated with the idea that it involves men having to do less housework. Even the most untraditional couple will fall into it after marriage, unless they are very conscious of it. They judge themselves against this centuries-old standard of what a wife does, which they didn't have to do when they were just living together."

 

Dumping it out.

My pocketbook.  All over the table. 

I reached in to find my keys to the truck, and my handed landed in something sticky.  There was a small bottle of nail polish in my bag, and it started to open.  Oh poop. 

So, out came all the contents of the bag.  I keep it relatively empty, anyways, since I don't so much go far - but I figured it was time for a "What the **** is in your bag, anyway?" post.

This isn't my bag, but I like it!  I have another version of these Kathy Van Zeeland bags, that I got for $12.00.  (How's that for a deal, eh?)

Now, this is typically done with a camera - but Since Mine Is At The Camera Hospital - here's the contents, and you'll just have to trust that I'm not forgetting to Share The Hand Gun, Pepper Spray and Metal Baseball Bat:

• Wallet, containing $123.00 bills and about $5.00 loose change, it's freaking heavy.  I normally do not have that much money on me - frankly I don't know why I do - I must have forgotten something.  I normally have about $20.00, or the equivalent of grocery shopping or gas money only.
• Set of keys, more key-rings than actual keys, which there are two and a house alarm remote.
• 2 containers of Glucose Tablets, which I've been carrying since my blood sugar seems to drop out when I'm noteatingeverytwo****ingminutes.
• 5 different lip-glosses.  Yes, 5.  But, I may toss them all back in the make-up bin, because I just rec'd a Fresh New Tube of philosophy empower mint lip gloss, which is BY FAR MY FAVORITE because it smells good, tastes good, and looks awesome because it's shiny and clear.  :*
• 4 tampons, super-duperity absorbency, for catching the random red tide I'm surfing.
• 2 purse-packs of Kleenex, because I also have some fantastic allergies!
• 1 pack of Orbit Sweet Mint Gum, because it's the BEST.  I always have gum or mints, just ask.
• 1 empty case of Altoids Dark Chocolate Cinnamon.  There's a reason it's empty. :P
• 6 Wet-Naps, which suck ass, but I found 'em for like .69 cents at the Christmas Tree Shop and figured they'd be good to have in my purse.  By the time we unwrap them, wipe our hands and throw the stupid wrapper away, it's a waste.  Baby wipes kick ass much more.
• 1 small spray bottle of smelly Calgon body spray, Tropicalsomething.
• 1 pressed powder/mirror.
• 1 Johnson + Johnson's Baby Dry Skin Cream in a little tube that looks like a deodorant.  Works well for my overwashed hands.
• 1 nail file.
• 1 baby nail clipper, never used, I don't know why I carry it.
• 1 FruitaBu Fruit-Roll.  Yummy fruit snack carried for kids or for me during same OMG I need sugar, stat moment.
• 1 small emergency bottle of Poland Springs for Tristan's bottle if I somehow get detached from her diaper bag.

That's all today.  (Besides the big mothereffing Gun I Told You About.  Don't bother me at Wal Mart.)  When I leave the house, I generally add a "meal" - a protein bar/jerky and a drink.

What's in yo' bag?  Tell us.

Phhhhhhhhlbt.

Is that the sound a :-P makes?

I'm having a morning.  I won't get into it, but it may involve a creature.  I've been avoiding announcing the addition of a critter to our household, because, it's never positive in the beginning.  She's very new and needs training, much like, um, the baby in our household.  It's a lot of work, and work I didn'tsomuch want.  Yeah, they're cute'n'stuff, but that lasts like, a minute before they're poopting on the floor and eating your children. 

For the record, when asked my opinion, I did say, "No. No critters right now.  Maybe an adult critter when we can find one to adopt." 

As you can see, that bombed.

Instead of a new camera, I got a brand new, beautiful, smelly, pooping, peeing, chewy, dog.  She's a pure-bred Boxer.

If I Had A Camera - I'd take a photo of her to show you.  But since I don't, here's a reasonable facsimile of the critter now in my family:

Her name is Rizzo.  It fits, even if I'm calling her "Damn it, dog."

Spongenotworthy.

Kitchen-sponges are germ factories, all sorts of bacteria grow on them.  Scientists have figured out that if you microwave your sponge, it cuts the bacteria way down, and makes it safer to use.  I have the perfect cure for this problem.  Don't Use A Sponge?!  Ick.  I've never owned one.

"One household product that spreads infection hasn't changed much over the years: your kitchen sponge. But scientists say they've found a near-foolproof method for sanitizing even that old germ trap - make sure the sponge is wet, then nuke it in your microwave oven. Why be so obsessive? Hygiene experts warn that any time you use a sponge to clean up the mess from a party or family meal, it teems with germs that sit there, waiting for you to use the sponge again and spread germs to sinks, utensils and countertops - until they make someone sick. In fact, sponges are one of the key pathways for bacteria, viruses, parasites and other germs to spread in the home, causing many of the estimated 76 million cases of food-borne illnesses a year, experts say. Some microbiologists recommend throwing sponges away after a week to keep the germs at bay. But almost nobody does. "The kitchen sponge is a source of all sorts of microbes," says Gabriel Bitton, an environmental microbiologist at the University of Florida. Bitton and a team of UF researchers say their recipe for making sponges less infectious is simple: microwave them on high for about two minutes. "It won't completely sterilize them, but it will knock out almost all of the bacteria," Bitton said. Specifically, the heat and drying process destroy bacteria and other pathogens that need water to survive, according to Bitton and other experts."