Smile, though your heart is aching

I inadvertently figured out the ultimate on "hedging your bets" today.

Guess who went to Walgreens and bought the following:

1. 3 pack of pregnancy tests
2. Box of tampons
3. two big-ass bars of chocolate.

I didn't see the funny side of this until a few hours later (t-minus one chocolate bar and counting) but the fact that I can see the humor in the situation means that I guess I am going to be OK.

Uh huh.

I have been sleepng a lot.

Evidently, when you mess around with your hormones, bad things happen.

I went to the gym 5 days last week. And last night, The Man snuggled up with me and says "mmmmmm...honey, have you gained weight?" He could tell by looking at my BACK. AIIIIGH!

I have. These hormones are killing me. I am trying to stay active and keep my eye on the prize, blah blah blah. Hopefully, this month, it will pay off.

Zoom Zoom

I did wake up at 5 yesterday.

The fact that I am going to have to do it again kind of makes my brain squeak in terror, but I will, because the Zumba class? Most. Fun. Ever.

One of my favorite parts is that the instructor isn't skinny. Hooray!

I took the day off from the gym today- date night is tonight, and I also don't want to burn out. I am actually forcing myself to NOT go to the gym this morning, which feels kind of crazy.

In other news, my visit to the doctor yesterday went well. Scary meds should commence this evening. I am battening down the hatches for the inevitable weeping and crankiness that are soon to come.

I have already been a little....well, miffed. Probably because of sleep deprivation. I know that's a part of it- The Man doesn't come home until midnight, and I am up until at least one, and then getting up at 5 or 6 AM...well.

The other factor is of course, the computer games.

The Man has noticed my crankiness, and has been doing that man thing where he offers to help 2 seconds before I finish the thing I am doing.

Like, "Do you want help with dinner?" when I have already finished making spaghetti, sauce, squash, steamed broccoli, and am taking the garlic bread out from under the broiler. We like spaghetti, so I made a ton of it and also of the sides, so we could have it for lunches the rest of the week.

So last night I said, "You know what honey? I am exhausted, and I am going to bed early. Would you mind putting away the food? "

Sure, he said, no problem.

I just got up and looked in the fridge, and maybe I am overreacting, but I just want to cry.

Evidently he stayed up playing games long after I went to bed, and then just threw the food into the fridge as is. No Tupperware. No Saran Wrap. It's just thrown haphazardly into bowls or left naked on the plate I served it on. My first impulse was to drag it out and then haphazardly repackage it...but why?

The (Huge! Expensive!)squash that I steamed for a week of lunches is ruined. Broccoli is completely out of the question. The spaghetti is a rubbery wad of gluey noodles, because he didn't add the sauce to it. The sauce may be salvageable, but I am wondering how long it sat out on the counter before he put it away, and of course, it has meat in it.

The garlic bread is conspicuously absent.

Part of me wants to go into the bedroom, wake him up, and scream at him.

I was so happy when he offered to help. I feel like this is a deliberate attempt to keep me from taking him up on his offers of help again. He didn't even bother to think about it or make an effort, and he's wasted a hour or so of MY time in the process, not to mention the extra cooking and shopping time I will have to put in to make up for it. So, that's wasted money, not only from buying the first round of food, but the second time around, as well.

And, did I mention, it was his day off yesterday? He did not do one damned thing. I came home from work and made dinner for him, when he sat on his butt playing games all day long.

Something's gotta give. What would you do in this situation??

Wild Woman

So I know I have mentioned my issues vis-a-vis The Man and his Computer Games.

It's something I haven't wanted to talk about, because let's face it, it's boring, and it makes me feel like a whiner.

The computer game playing still continues at a steady clip- he has found another game, Eve Millennium, which he assured me wouldn't be taking up as much time as WOW.

Uh huh.

I've gotten desensitized to it over time, but then I realized that The Man is waking up, playing the game, going to work, getting home, hopping back onto the computer, coming out at intervals to forage and pee, and then comes to bed around 2-3 AM.

If you're wondering where I fit into this equation...well, I don't.

This last week, I woke up and realized that there were some serious issues that needed to be addressed. I have been spending money like it's going out of style, which isn't good. I have been slacking on cleaning the house. I have been filling my free time with books, television, and nights out with the girls. Secret Squirrel and BowGirl have been on speed dial.

There have been squabbles. Squabbles about stupid, stupid things. Like why I am wearing black lacy underwear to go out. (Yes, I was wearing pants over them!)

When you have to justify your underwear, it's a sign that something else is wrong.

The last time my life was like this was when The Man was posted overseas for six months. I was depressed, utterly alone, and drinking pretty heavily. I stopped going to the gym, and gained a bunch of weight.

I am not doing this again.

It's been rocky lately, and that's hard to talk about. I've gotten a couple of digs about how much less I am earning at the job I love than at the job I hated. The job that he talked me into leaving.

Me: Hey! I got you a t-shirt from the concert that I thought you'd like!

TM: Okay. How much of MY money did you spend on it?

Me: In case you haven't noticed, I do actually work. I do actually make money.

TM: But I'm the primary breadwinner. Remember, I just did the taxes. I know how much more I make than you do now.

!!!!!!!!!!

There are no words. Well, actually, there are words, but none of them are particularly nice. I am considering sending him a bill for my cooking, cleaning, errand service, laundry, creative input, gardening, accounting, and sexual services.

We'll see who makes more money THEN!!! I hear hookers who have all their teeth are pretty expensive.

There's also been a lot of the silent treatment. I stayed out until 2AM last night, out with the girls. In my defense, I thought he was out with the guys after work too, but I came home to find a sullen, irritable guy who ended up sleeping on the couch.

He was still mad this morning, and when I asked him what was wrong, he told me that I would have to wait until he gets home tonight (at midnight) to find out what the problem is. Presumably so I would be upset all day, waiting for the axe to fall.

My educated guess is that he is mad that I have been home less...but there's not much argument he can make, considering that when I am here, he ignores me in favor of the computer. And judging by "Pantygate", he's realizing that I am an attractive woman who can get attention from others if my husband is not so inclined...and that is making him nervous. As he should be.

Is it wrong that I want to go out with the girls again tonight, so I don't have to be home when he gets here? I am really sick of this passive aggressive BS!

Umm...

I'm not going to lie to you. This week has been, in a word, craptacular.

My body is messing with me. I'm not going to go into it, but it appears to have taken the whole "April Fools" thing literally, at the expense of my sanity and also, some serious dough.

My insurance, WHICH WE PAY EXTRA FOR, because it is supposed to be better than the "baseline model?" Sucks.

Two of my tutoring clients keeps cancelling or trying to change times on me at the last minute, and it is messing up my schedule.

Our bank has hung onto the "No Paypal!" directive of three months ago, and so now somethings that I ordered and I NEED are tied up until I sort it out.

I'm just tired.

I haven't called the headhunter yet.

I have 15 freaking messages on my cell phone. I know, I know....I got behind. I think he is in there somewhere.
______

In other news...a conversation I had today. It was with the 4 year old sister of my new tutoring clients.

4 y.o.: I know you!

JSQ: Yup- I was here yesterday, remember?

4 y.o.: You came back!

JSQ: Yes, I will be here all the time now. I am helping your brothers with math!

4 y.o.: I want to see the picture of the bird. (There is a picture of my parrot on the cell phone. I comply.)

4 y.o.: I want to see a picture of your little girl!

JSQ: Sorry, I don't have one of those.

4 y.o.: You don't have babies?

JSQ: No, not yet.

4 y.o.: Why not? Do you hate kids?

At this point, she is starting to look upset. Of course, I probably am too.

JSQ: No, I don't hate kids- I teach kids all day, remember? I like kids!

4 y.o.: Then why don't you have any?

At this point, her mom came in, gave me what can only be described as a wry look, and mercifully carried her off.
_____________

On a more positive note:

The thing I am doing is going well...the excess weight that hatched over the fateful Sonoma weekend has been banished, and I managed to hit my goal of four days of exercise this week, which is amazing, considering the crazy schedule I have had.

How are you doing? Anything good planned for the weekend?

Mine involves reclining on the couch. Daylight Savings Time plus wacky schedule plus new diet and exercise program has done me in!

Deal with the Devil

Cue fiddle music!

The Man is nearly done with his Business/Marketing degree.

I am really proud of him, and when he is done with school, it will be my turn to go back and finish my English degree and get my teaching credential.

So we are at this huge family shindig, and well...

I guess I would have enjoyed it more if we didn't feel like the poor relations.

My sister is a lawyer. My brother is in real estate. If we expand to extended family, you get a few major judges, a big time buisnessman or two, a few more lawyers, and a computer mogul. There are a smattering of teachers who are on the edge of retirement, married to the posessors of the aforementioned Big Impressive Jobs. They live in the Bay Area, they have vacation homes and brand new cars and designer clothes and timeshare condos in Hawaii. The younger ones all have kids. And they all look like they live at the gym.

My husband is in the military. I work with kids in a part-time capacity. We squeeze by every month, mainly because I quit my full-time job at The Company Which Shall Not Be Named, and because The Man's college education is freaking expensive. We have no kids. We're not into wine or gourmet meals. (They're nice, but not really a part of the big equation for us.) In short, we have nothing in common with most of these people.

Anyway. These people love me, and they don't intend to make me feel "small." And it pisses me off to no end that I couldn't just sit back and enjoy myself, without constantly comparing and analyzing everything.

There were moments that were awkward..."You've NEVER had a massage before?!!!" This was uttered in a tone like I had just swung in on a vine, wearing a loincloth.

There were moments that went beyond awkward to agonizing. Like the part where someone offered to sell me her three-year-old son, who was acting up, at a discount. It was one of those laughing things that mothers say because their kid is on their last nerve. I just sort of laughed and said, "Name your price!" in a jokey way. It was worse because I am sure her husband took her aside and talked to her afterwards, because she was visibly uncomfortable around me after that.

I guess I do have a point, and I am getting to it.

The Man was constantly asked if he was going to have to go back to the Middle East. They would thank him for all he did, thank me for giving up my husband for six months to defend our country. They's ask what was going on with us, so we'd tell them about his college, eventual job search, etc.

The Man has a job offer from a family member. However, it's a loaded proposition. We would have to to move to the Bay Area, but lodging is provided, which is a big part of the cost up there. The huge down side is that it's a trailer park, which we would have to live in. It bothers me more on the level that we already have a house, and I already feel like a "poor relation". Let's face it, there would be something of a stigma attached to it. And I am not sure how much I want to work for family. I worry that if we hate it, we couldn't just change our minds.

The upsides are huge too. Stigma or not, we would triple or quadruple our current income. This place may be a trailer park, but it has a fantastic location, with a view of the bay. SF is right there, and housing would be free, which means that we would be able to take care of our debts and have huge financial freedom in one fell swoop. Family would be close by, especially if my parents move to the Carmel house when they retire. We would be able to save money to buy our dream house fairly painlessly.

The more I look at the up and down sides, the main drawback (let's face it) is "What Will They Think?" Which is a crappy way to run your life. There is a lot of time to think things over, there are a bunch of details that we don't have yet.

Thw more I think about it...My main condition would be that we keep our house. I have so many friends here, and I am not giving up being a homeowner.

I know this is disjointed...I am just so incredibly conflicted, it is making my head spin!

Oh Dear.

It strikes me that I have been sort of negative of late.

I'm really not sure what to say about it- snarkiness is just in my nature. Love it or leave it. I have tried to trancend it, and it doesn't work.

Character illustration:

Dad: (tiling countertops) This is all screwed up!!!! (assorted profanity)

Me: No! It'll be fine!

Dad: Uh-huh.

Me: Think sunshine and puppies! Keebler Elves! Lollipops! Incense and peppermints!

Dad: You have no idea how close you are to death at this moment.

See? It's hereditary.
_________

When life gives you lemons-

The Man was not exactly on my good list today. I woke up around 9AM to find that he was playing video games in his underwear. I decided that if he could spend his morning in his Calvins, I should definitely spend mine reading Diana Gabaldon instead of say, washing the dishes. (Forget a dance-off! Let's have...a slack-off!)

Around 11AM, I lost the slack-off, and wandered in to check on him. He promptly closed the computer screen, and said something sweet about how he was thinking, he should make me a meal one of these days, and how about lunch today? He will let me know when lunch is served.

This was a turn-up for the books! Pacified, I went back to A Breath of Snow and Ashes.

I looked up at the clock at noon, and again at one. My stomach started to rumble. At two, I cruised past the computer room. No sign of movement, no sign of lunch. Rather than make it an issue, I nuked myself some soup and sulked in silence.

He emerged from the office at three, just in time for both of us to get ready for work. No mention of lunch, no apology. This has been happening a lot, and I am getting sick of it.

I took the passive aggressive approach of changing into a cute new outfit with my sexiest heels and my red red lipstick, complete with a glare that evidently seared the gizzard out of him, because he was suspiciously silent when he left.

Meanwhile, I re-did a few buttons on my black satin blouse and went out to tutor an eight-year-old boy, who would be completely unappreciative. His mom was impressed, and I had to make up a lie about going out for dinner later so as not to look like a dork.

The Man did call later to say "I'm sorry for being a jerk. My co-worker, Justin wants to say something to you." Um, okay.

Justin: "Your husband said you were mad, and he told me what he did, and I told him he was being a stupid puto!"

Me: "Well...um, thanks!"

Justin: "No prob. Bye!!!"

The Man: "See? I'm really sorry."

Me: "Apology accepted. Tell Justin I give him mad props."
______

I went to Trader Joe's today, at 5PM.

If you are having issues with wanting kids and kids aren't happening?

Well, there is no good time to go to Trader Joe's, unless it's like an hour before closing time. But 5PM would have to be the worst, because the place is literally filthy with harried moms and their kids. I am not exaggerating, there were three brand new poppin' fresh babies in there, and a few more around the 6-9 month mark.

Those are actually the worst, because they are interactive, and goddamn it, they never fail to look at me with their big round eyes. Their downy little vulnerable heads swivel to watch me as I pass. They smile gummy grins, coo, peer at me, fascinated.

Maybe they do it to everyone, but I doubt it, because it seems to make their mothers nervous or jealous because THEIR BABY IS LOOKING AT SOMEONE ELSE. I have discussed the phenom with people I know, and they seem to feel that it's because I am sparkly and wearing red lipstick, whereas a newly delivered mother gnerally is happy if she got a chance to shower that week. I am sure that Laura Bennett's new baby wouldn't give me a second glance- he's seen it before.

Anyway. Having a nervous breakdown in the pasta aisle was not on my list of things to do today, but it was a struggle to avoid it. I choked it down, forced a smile onto my face, and forced myself to hold my head up. I was a woman on a mission! A mission for inner peace! And also, some Marinara sauce.

So I straightened up, threw on the most brilliant smile in the old arsenal, and somehow accidentally locked eyes with some guy. Evidently he decided that we had some kind of moment, because he started staring at me.

I am sure the thought process was, "She smiled and looked at me! Do I know her?" Either that, or, "Hehehe...She WANTS me." Either way, he looked completely flabbergasted, like I had given him a saucy wink and then flashed my bra at him.

I immediately averted my eyes and started loading brown rice and lentils into my cart. Evidently, he did not collect himself right away. I turned around to head out of the aisle, just in time to see his wife poke him viciously in the ribs.

Whoops.

A bunch of stuff I don't want to say, but probably should.

I am fully back into the throes of work- today was my first day back, and it was nice, although I dreaded it until I was there. Huh.

I have a light work week, and then I go back to the San Francisco Acupuncturist, and tell them that I have been horrible at my ass tea consumption. Yes, again.

This is something that needs to be changing, as several monumental decisions have been made over the holiday season. Most of which were made after I had a meltdown of monumental proportions on Christmas Day. It was one of those days where right off the bat, I knew it wasn't going to go well, but I seriously underestimated just HOW not well it was going to go. If that makes sense.

This is hard for me to write. I like to put a brave face on things, and a lot of this just seems weak and foolish to me. I feel like a selfish, horrible person for feeling some of the things I am about to write down. The whole damn shebang just embarrasses me.

When you're part of a couple who has been having trouble with the whole baby thing for awhile, I have come to the conclusion that Christmas is torture if you're infertile. TORTURE. We get a lot of those Christmas cards with the happy families on them, and TV is inundated by children's toys and accompanying gleeful little kids. It's just a contant reminder.

I should explain that Santa still visits my parent's house with stockings for my husband and I (I fill those) and my sister, and my brother and his wife. The youngest of this group is my brother's wife, who is about 25. And you know, Christmas is a holiday for children, etc...and suddenly, everything just seemed pointless, with nobody left to believe in Santa and wake everyone up at 3AM by running around excitedly in the footie pajamas. We have transformed into cranky puffy-eyed adults who are wearing ratty sweats, who just desperately want to sleep in until 10, but we can't, because the relatives are coming and we have to roast the goddamn turkey.

But I was fine. I helped fill the stockings, came home to our house, and set out the Christmas treats for the pets. Which just seemed even more pathetic, but I was really OK. I didn't share my feelings with my husband, because I have been a little depressed about the whole "no kids" shebang, and I don't want him to worry about me. (That sound you hear? That is Fate, laughing at me.)

The next morning, The Man and I were planning a leisurely awakening at 7, so we could privately open our gifts to each other and be put together to drive over to my family's place.

So of course, everything goes....not wrong, exactly, but definitely askew. What follows is basically The Most Depressing Christmas Movie Ever. Well, you know....nobody died. That's about all I can say for it.

1. We overslept. Not by a lot, but enough to make things a little tense. We get showered, and I begin to put on my makeup.

2. As The Man lovingly watches me apply my mascara, I ask him how work was the night before. As it turns out, this was a mistake. Usually, he says, "Fine", and sharing time is over.

Today however, he tells me that he is irritated with a high-ranking officer because of something that he said. This is unusual, because The Man is fairly even-keeled, so I ask what happened. The Man says, "He asked me what we got our kids for Christmas. I thought about punching him, but I figured that would be a bad idea."

3. I put on a brave face, for oh, about 5 seconds, and then the tears just burst out of me. And when I say burst, I mean, I literally exploded, scaring the hell out of both of us. There was no welling, there were not even tears, this was floods and uncontrollable hysteria. I said a whole lot of horrible things about The Man's superior officer, and did not forget to throw a few stones at God and The Universe, which really freaks my husband out.

I also did not neglect my perfect sister-in-law, she of the heinous bridesmaids dresses (which will return to haunt me later on this glorious day, by the way)who looks like Mandy Moore and has requested a new car- she wants to trade her sleek little luxury sedan in for an SUV. That alone has the alarm bells ringing in my head- this ridiculous fear that she and my brother will get pregnant any second, coupled with a horrible suspicion that it's kind of gold-diggery to demand an EXPENSIVE new car when you have one that works perfectly well and you've been married for less than 6 months.

4. While I am in puddles on the floor, and my husband is just trying to hold me and talk me down, and is gently suggesting that I might want to take back some of the things I said about God, if nobody else, the phone rings. It's my family. They need us to come ahead of schedule- my brother wants to surprise Miss Perfect with her brand new Hummer H3, it's parked in the driveway, and they are afraid that if they wait any longer, she will go outside and see it. I put on a brittle voice and tell them we'll get there as soon as we can, and maybe they should start without us.

5. Now any private time The Man and I have is shot, and I am a wreck, my makeup is shot to hell. He's not much better off, he has wet patches all over his shirt. I realize that any gifts we give each other are going to be overshadowed by the H3. I also realize that the tears have now taken over, and I am officially an emotional wreck- I am going to be crying intermittently at really stupid things all day. If I see a Hallmark commercial, or a baby penguin, I will just dissolve. This does not bode well.

6. We have to go- I am bringing the first course for Christmas Dinner. I try to un-snivel as best I can, put on the biggest, blackest sunglasses I own, and we load the soup, presents, and ourselves into the car. My cel rings- my dad. I don't answer. The Man's cel rings- again, my dad. Rinse and repeat TWO more times. It takes less than ten minutes to get to their house. The Man is upset, and I have descended from hysteria into a sort of sullen acceptance.

7. So we get there, and Dad meets us at the door. "We waited for you!" he says, hugging both of us. I thaw a little, and we bring the presents inside. Then I realize that when he said they waited, he meant "for the surprise car", and not, "to open the stockings." So we open our stockings by ourselves, with everyone watching, and urging us to hurry up, because they want to open presents.

8. Miss Perfect's gift to my parents is a framed 8x12 of our family at the wedding. From across the room, I can see myself in the picture, and if it looks that bad from across the room, I don't even want to see it close up. It is passed around for all to admire. My husband gives me a sympathetic look before he hands it to me. I pass it to my sister without looking at it, and she winces. Oh boy.

9. Because The Man and I have more presents than everyone else, once again, we are urged to hurry up, ostentestibly so we can get dinner started, but actually so my brother can present The Car. The Car is presented. We go outside to look at it. It is black with a red bow on it. WOO! It's colder than a witch's tit outside, so my husband, mom, sister and I go back inside almost immediately.

10. I am starting to feel more normal at this point. OK, we've gotten this far...and then my aunt calls long distance. She talks to dad and wishes him a happy birthday, talks to mom, and asks to talk to me.
"Hi Auntie!"

"Hey sweetie. Merry Christmas! Oh, please tell your dad- I forgot to say, your cousin Sondra is pregnant AGAIN. Can you believe it?!"

Just breathe. You're happy for her. Aren't you?

"Oh, give Sondra my congratulations."

"I know- Number FOUR! We're hoping for a girl, and we want red hair, because, you know..."

I realize that I am repeating, "That's great- I'm so happy for her!" over and over again. Like a robot. I feel the tears in my throat, and I know that I am going to lose it in front of my whole family, including Miss Perfect, who has of course just reappeared after a test drive in her new car. I start desperately trying to pass the phone off to someone, ANYONE, when my aunt says, I swear to God, "Can you believe it! I'm younger than your Dad, and I'm on my fourth grandchild already! How old is he today? 59, or the big six-oh?"

11. I practically throw the phone at my sister, who looks a little stunned. "It's Auntie! Sondra's pregnant again! Isn't that great?!!!" I trill. Then I charge for the bathroom. There's someone in there, so I manage the adjacent door- the laundry room. I don't bother to turn the lights on.

A note slips under the door.

"Are you OK?"

I manage a tearful "no". I am beginning to feel like a complete dork, which is not unbelievable, since I am hiding in the laundry room with the lights off. My sister comes in, followed closely by my husband. They take turns holding me while I alternately cry and try to explain what happened.

I'm so sick of being like this, and I feel like I am ruining Christmas, which makes everything worse on some level. I wonder how long my poor husband and family will have to deal with a semi-psychotic madwoman who cries at the drop of a hat.

12. Eventually, I start to calm down, and head across the hall to the mercifully deserted bathroom to repair as much damage as I can. My sister and husband arm me with some Kleenex, and I decide to just make the best of it, play some Scrabble, and just get over it. But the looks of pity and worry on the faces of my family are totally my undoing. I make it through dinner, but afterwards I head to the kitchen and tell my dad that when The Man leaves for work (yes, on Christmas Day!) I am going to head home with him.

13. Dad wants to know why, and when I say I don't want to talk about it, just that I am having a bad day and want to be by myself and just get through it, keeps at me to stay, arguing with me that if I am depressed, I should be with family. Considering that my family seems to be about 50% of the depression equation, this seems a little like flawed reasoning. I finally just tear up again, because the more you've been crying, the easier it is to start again, and he finally relents and says he understands, and pats me awkwardly on the head.

14. In the car, I turn to The Man and say, "We're not doing this again. Christmas morning is just the two of us, or whatever, from now on." Luckily, he agrees with this. And we get home, and he goes to work, and I watch crap TV and eat junk food and put away our Christmas gifts, and I feel, amazingly, fine. Back to sanity. Which makes me evaluate my emotions a little bit.

I am growing to recognize that a big part of this whole problem is that The Man and I are both the oldest kids in our families, the first to get married, and the pressure is on to come up with the first grandchildren, and I think that those expectations, on top of my own, are just crippling me. I am not wanting to have kids just because my parents want me to, but it does factor in, and I just got overloaded.

15. When The Man got home that night, we had the talk to end all talks. So...we've tried it my way, and it hasn't worked. Now we're going to try it his way, which I am pretty unenthusiastic about, as it is going to mean invasive testing and more hormones (and therefore, more psychosis) and more doctor's appointments, and basically more crap for me to deal with. But, at least we're doing something. We mapped out the next year, give or take. I'll know more when I have spoken to my doctor about timelines. But there you go. It is definitely more reassurring to have a plan in place.

So this week, I need to find a local acupuncturist. My last SF appointment in awhile will be this weekend, and I feel good about that decision, particularly after my last adventure on the Greyhound Bus (another long depressing story, which I think I will just let go, considering what I just dragged everyone through!

So...I'm not thrilled with my life, but I am doing something about it.

And I sure hope that everyone's holiday was better than mine! (Although the crap tv and junk food part was pretty awesome- Did I mention that we had leftover cream puffs in the freezer?)

What fresh hell is this?!

First of all, mad props to the person in the city of Fresno who decided that it was NOT OK to be able to see your garbage cans from the street.

We keep the garbage cans on the side of our house, like all out neighbors do. They are in the spot where they have been since we moved here, three years ago.

The exact phrase in the notice we got was: "No container shall be stored in the front yard, side yard or on a street, unless the container is screened from view of the street." It is signed, "D.HOLM Code Enforcement Specialist." Because nobody wants to be called, "D.HOLM- Trash Can Photographer". Or "D.HOLM- Garbage Snitch N'Bitch."

The first offense is a warning. The second offense is $50. Repeated offenses? Up to $1500. Yikes.

We got our first Notice of Violation this week, along with (as far as I can tell) 99.9% of our neighbors, because they were all standing around and complaining after the mail came.

For your enjoyment, here is a photo of the enclosed photo of our unlawful garbage can placement:



Hard to see what the problem is? Let's go hi tech!



Ok. Granted, there are people who have Christmas decorations which are arguably more irritating to view than our garbage cans. But we complied, for the time being.



Look! You can see our fence! And our extremely ugly water and power meters!!!

In the meantime, we are trying to come up with a solution that thwarts the need to put the garbage cans in the backyard. So far, I have come up with this attractive option:



Who doesn't need a festive garbage can cozy? We could change them seasonally to share our holiday spirit with the whole neighborhood.

In other news, PG&E just gave us a credit on our bill. A $480 credit. Whoa.

While I am thrilled to not have to pay the people for the next few months....how the heck did they make a mistake of this magnitude? Almost 500 bucks? The hell?!!

I sort of want to demand that they pay us back. IN cash. WITH interest. Which is what they would demand from us, if our bill was in arrears. There's also no explanation of how this happened, or any kind of apology. Just a credit on our bill.

Did they think that we wouldn't notice?

Anyway. Ho ho ho! I am off to SF again, but I leave at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow, and return at 8PM, so it's not much a a trip. I am so totally bringing my knitting. :)

Can I get a "do over?"

So this last week?

Thank heaven, the work week is over.

I mean, I am not expecting anything miraculous this weekend. The way this week has gone, as long as there is no plague of locusts, or rain of blood and frogs, it's all good.

I am going out on a limb saying that, because I am taking Greyhound to SF again this weekend, which may be considered another sign of the apocalypse.

I am usually incredibly responsible when it comes to work. However, being sick messed me up in more ways than I ever could have imagined. (Note to self: you are human. Suck it up, let someone else take care of it!) Besides the chills the other night, I had a temp over 102, which for good old sub-normal temp me, is more like 104. Evidently, it boiled my brain. I missed several appointments, and generally was in a fog for two days, during which I made at least 4 major work-related mistakes that I am still kicking myself over.

I am feeling better today, and I am hoping that I will be good to go for another week at work. I got the news today that I am basically booked through the end of the year, which is just insane. I am going to be training people to pick up some of the slack next week, because the demand is huge. It's thrilling for me, because I love this company, and I am doing my best to get them as many bookings as I can finagle.

It pleases me to no end, however, to find out that I have a waiting list. Teachers are calling in, requesting me to come to their classes again, and when they find out I am booked, are actually requesting to wait until I have an open day...even when they find out it will most likely be sometime in February.

Just....wow. That is about as cool, and as flattering, as it gets. I am blown away.

It does make things harder on some level. I am thrilled that the kids like me, and incredibly happy in my job.

Here's the problem. I take questions at the beginning and end of my classes. Being kids, the first questions usually have nothing to do with why I am there, but I answer them anyway. Questions two and three are usually things like, "What's your favorite color?" and "What's your favorite animal?" Question number one: "Do you have a family? Do you have kids? Or just "How many kids do you have?"

When I say no kids, I have a big huge husband and a lot of pets, they get...well, indignant is the best word.

"But why not!!! Your kids would have so much fun!!! You could do science with them at home, and they would be so lucky!!!"

Ouch. Just....ouch. Luckily, I am out of the teary stage, because as it is, it damn near does me in. EVERY time.

Anyway. Today I managed the Big Three Questions from a class full of fourth graders and then another little boy raised his hand.

"When's the guy getting here? Isn't there a guy?"

I was puzzled for about a second, and then I pointed to my lab coat and said, "I'M the guy!!!" And I made a silly face at him.

The class all busted up laughing. The teacher explained that she had talked to a guy on the phone, which was why they had been expecting a male scientist- but wasn't it great that I was a woman? Because girls can grow up to be scientists too!

I guess the little girls felt empowered, which is great. They all swarmed my table after the presentation- asking where to get dry ice, and telling silly knock knock jokes. I hit them with the vintage interrupting cow joke and they went bananas. It was hilarious- they were all squealing and slapping their teensy knees, and then they followed me out into the parking lot, offering to carry stuff for me. The teacher from the class saw them and called after me, "I'm jealous! You already have groupies!!"

The good outweighs the bad- definitely. And I have to remember, my knock knock jokes from 1982 will always be a hit with the fourth graders of the world. I have found my audience! If I had my own kids, they'd eventually hit puberty and find my mere prescence to be totally humiliating.

The biggest one-horse town in California.

So, I am in Fresno.

This post is going to be pretty vague, due to the non-disclosure agreement that I signed when I started my job.

I grew up here in Fresno. I know a lot of people because of that. Due to the nature of my job, the huge social circle of my parents, and my husband's ties to the military, I need to be careful when I run into people. Note to self- it's "Nice to SEE you", not "Nice to meet you!" Invariably, I screw that one up, mainly because my ability to match faces with names is god-awful.

Anyway. I was given a dossier on a little girl to tutor. It had an addendum that part of the reason that she was having problems in school was because of a family tragedy- her father had died violently a few months before and since she was shy anyway, they wanted someone with a "bubbly" personality.

I showed up on the front doorstep on Monday, and when her mother answered the door, she shrieked, "Jenna! I didn't know you were tutoring!"

They're friends of friends. People we knew by first names only, and so I had no idea that this was someone I had spent time with at birthday parties and barbecues.

I was literally gobsmacked. In the meantime, the friends who are the link between us, called, and gave me all the gory details.

Every time I look at this sweet little girl, who is just caught in the middle of all this crap- it just breaks my heart. And all I can do is correct her spelling and teach her how to multiply, and try not to get too involved.

Sorry. This has been bugging me since Monday.