September Looks Promising

At work, first thing this morning, I returned a phonecall to Mrs. N. She picked up the phone, "Good Morning, Sunshine!"

"Uhhhhh, Mrs. N, this is Paige."

"OH! I thought you were my sister! But Good Morning, Sunshine to you anyway!"

And we laughed and I told her thank you as I really needed that today.

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A few hours later I answered the phone, "C*********, this is Paige."

"Why aren't you at lunch?"

"I don't get a lunch."

"If you'll come work for me you can have a lunch."

For everyone keeping count, that's Roofer #2 that's trying to steal me away from my $14/hr ride down the River Styx.

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Last night, Mac and I were reading on her bed. Tater was in bed early as he's on the early shift this week. Dillon was in the basement playing X-Box with friends.

I wondered where the dog was. He rarely wanders more than 10 feet from me but I just assumed the boys must have raided the pantry and he was hoping for some people food if he loitered around them long enough.

About 30 minutes later, I was completely engrossed in my book when I heard that doggie yelp - not a bark, but a yelp that says, "Hey, you forgot me in the backyard! (Or wherever)" But it was coming from the house. I started calling for him - in the bathroom, kitchen, dining room, living room - and I heard another yelp. I followed the sound down another flight of stairs and heard him scratching at the laundry room door. I opened it and wagging his entire body out of the complete darkness, he was so happy to see me. The poor guy had patiently waited for me to find him, sitting, without a doubt, right behind the door for the half-an-hour before he decided we were idiots and needed a clue that our pet was stranded in the basement.

But he still loved us and jumped up on Mac's bed, licking her face and wagging his tail, grateful to be rescued while we almost fell off the bed laughing at his unfortunate doggie luck.

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My bathroom has tile (some, anyway):

Before
Last Week
Now

...Maybe another week???

Sticking with the upbeat theme, I am not posting any photos of my bedroom. It has an unacceptable amount of Home Depot products in it.

Ten Things I Hate About August

Dear August~

What's the deal? You took my sense of humor and stomped on it and turned it into a bloody pulp and left me sitting here trying to decide if I should run off to Mexico or to just make myself a margarita straight tequila and wallow in the loathing and ennui that seems to be my calling card this month.

As of this, the last week of you, work is unyielding and yet another maintenance man has been fired, my car was totaled turning a paid-off hunk of twisted metal into a pretty car with an ugly loan, I started WWIII with the in-laws, my teenager has entered the Attitude and Apathy Olympics, my bathroom is undergoing a total remodel, in turn making my bedroom look like an episode of Flip This House and my family room look like a garage. I owe at least 6 girlfriends (Annie, Ang, Bron, Dianne, Scientist Lisa, Cristin) phone calls and innumerable girlfriends emails (you know who you are). Unfortunately this can of Whoop-Ass you've unleashed on me has left me in such a mood that I don't believe that any of my girls needs to be exposed to my funk.

You are supposed to be fun and relaxing, gently leading us into another school year, not kicking the crap out of me, leaving me with a black eye and a bloody nose and wanting to jump headfirst into bed with my smooshy down comforter yanked up to my eyeballs. You are supposed to be slow and languid not busy and argumentative.

I will give you three more days. Then I'm taking control and fighting back. I will OWN September.

Love, Paige

For Real. Happened.

As we passed in the hallway, Dillon asked me, almost as an afterthought, "Hey. Is pudding supposed to have these little balls of gelatin-like stuff in them?"

"Well....... Yes, if it's Tapioca."

"What are those little balls?"

"Tapioca."

"Huh."

"What'd you do? Throw it away?"

"Yeah, that's just gross. I don't like Tapioca."

Fast forward 90 seconds.

Dillon, "Taiko! Do you want a treat?"

Dog runs up, bouncing and sneezing, "Yes! Give it to me NOW! I want it! I like it! Give me a treat."

So Dillon puts the treat in his mouth and leans over as the dog stands on his hind legs to get it. Just as it looked like Taiko was going to get it all, Dillon bit it in half and ate his portion.

"Huh. These are good!"

And I just found a way to save money on dorm food next year.

Things I Bring On Myself

Look around for a minute. See your computer, your house (or job), maybe some kids, a car, nice furniture, a giant TV, a refrigerator full of food...

And if that hasn't made you to feel fortunate enough, I highly recommend a visit to your County Health Clinic.

In June (maybe even May), the School Corporation sent me a letter stating that Fairfax County has changed it's immunization requirements for rising 6th graders. Every rising 6th grader needs to have had a DTP booster within the past 5 years, the proof of which should be provided on the first day of school or your child may not enter 6th grade.

Thanks, Fairfax County! I'll get right on that. (Hi. Do you remember me? My name is Paige and I'm a Master Procrastinator.)

So. School starts two weeks from tomorrow.

I chose today to be The Day I Found Out When Mackenzie Last Had A DTP Booster. This required approximately 24 seconds of my attention whereby I opened the file with her name on it an took out her Immunization Card. Then read it:

DTP. 2000.

Off to the internet I went to determine the operating hours for the Immunization Clinic on base. Found it, right next to the highlighted words: "Immunizations are a prescription medication and must be ordered by a physician or licensed provider."

Non-Military translation: "You may not just show up asking for a DTP. You must call the hospital and then sit on hold for 20 minutes while waiting to schedule an appointment, all of which will be full until sometime in late September (Your child can't start school? Too-bad-so-sad) . On the day of your appointment you must first circle the Hospital parking lot 16 1/2 times before finding a parking space, then head to the Records Room to stand in a line 5 people deep to pick up your medical records before proceeding to your appointment where you will obtain the Sacred Prescription for DTP Immunization, at which point you will head to the Immunization Clinic only to find out that the Immunization Clinic hours ended 15 minutes ago and you must then go home, rinse and repeat. Your child will hopefully start school by Halloween."

Then I re-read the letter from the School Corporation (Remember that? The one I got in June (or May even)?) and noted where it said I could get a FREE SHOT for school-required immunizations down at the County Health Department. So I looked that up on my computer. There was one 5 BLOCKS FROM MY HOUSE in a non-descript office building! (Who knew?) I called. Walk-in hours were ending in 15 minutes, I was there in 5.

And as I sat there among the mass of humanity and listened to one nurse explain to a dad with broken English how his child's further health care would require some cost on his part, and watched a young mother chase her 3 year old boy and twin baby girls around until their number was called, and saw more than one pregnant teenager be called back while my ears were being assaulted by a child playing with the Toy of Unimaginable Germs, I remembered how fortunate I was. That I live in a country where I can be understood, and we can afford to spend $350 in groceries in one week, and my totaled car could be replaced with a brand new Acura. If I chanced to get pregnant (which would be a surprise to Tater and his cauterized vas deferens), we could afford to have the best medical care in a sanitized, private office, and if I hadn't been born with the unfortunate characteristic of procrastinating to absurdity, my children could get all of their health care without ever stepping foot into a Free Public Health Clinic.

And so I was Thankful.

Until I came home to my house, which is getting a new roof, and stepped on a rusty nail.

(But it's ok! Nurse Bronwyn made me get a Tetanus booster a few years ago when I almost cut my finger pad off speed-chopping lettuce. Thanks, Girlfriend!)

Jr. NRA

One of my very favorite things to do upon returning from a trip Home is to shock you all with photos of my children shooting guns. This is one of their very favorite things to do each time we go home. I learned to shoot at a young age, as have they. Their aim is deadly:

Mac + Glock

Dillon + 22 with Scope

=Dog with Trauma (he loves to go but hates the noise).

Gratuitous Indiana Barn Photo.

What Can Your Kid Do?

Mackenzie can sing the entire 30 seconds of this commerical.

I am SO proud.

It's a good thing school starts soon.

Blog Spawn Update

New Friends
Everyone, I'd like you to meet Gary and Ericka. You may have noticed Gary loitering for the last month or so over there in the List of Linkety Goodness. He is a Real Life Friend of Betty, thereby making him guilty by association of Crazy (but in a good way).

Ericka stumbled upon Cartwheels this week while clicking that super fun/scary "Next Blog" button in the top righthand corner. She is the Mom of a super-beautious couple of girlies and though her Blog is bare-baby-butt-new, I can already tell she's a fun one to have around.

Welcome Fellow Spawn!

And in Journal Location News
The Journal has reached the abode of Annie, our resident Evil Queen, today. Now she's wondering what the hell to do with it... :)

Seriously. Good luck with that.

New Car!

The day after you spend 11 hours driving yourself, two kids and a dog from Indiana to DC, what do you want to do LEAST of all in the whole entire world?

For me, that would be to go out and test drive cars for 11 hours. So instead, we test drove cars for 11 and-a-half hours.

We drove the Toyota Highlander, the Nissan Pathfinder, the Honda Pilot, the Subaru Piece-of-Crap, the Mazda CX-7, the Acura MDX... I think that's it. It came down to the Pathfinder and the MDX (but we weren't ready to give up on the Highlander and the Pilot). But after much debate and negotiating, we just drove home in this:




It's the Acura MDX. And after much wishy-washyness and reluctance to make a decision, we decided on the Light Blue one. First it was between the red and black. So the salesman had the red and black washed up for us. Then we got there and liked the light blue and sagebrush (a greeny bluey gray) but still couldn't decide. Finally, Mac got the deciding vote and Light Blue it is!

She is muy bonita and tres chic. Now she needs a name. I realize we just did this for Ole Bessy, but I need suggestions again...

Thirty Hours In Indy

Dillon and Mackenzie
Mackenzie Conquers Lion
Alison & Paige
Dillon wants to be a pirate.
Aunt Jacque and Alison
Family.

Me and My Sis

This was supposed to be a post Titled "Thirty Hours in Indy", but as Blogger would only let me upload approximately "Thirteen Seconds in Indy", this is all you get:

Me, my niece Isabella, and my sister Alison.

'Night! We're headed home in the morning and will be back ASAP.

Camping at Lake Michigan

Dillon and Mackenzie. Friends.

Dillon. Artist.

Mackenzie. Swimmer.

Dad, and his dog, and my dog. My dog wins.

Lake Michigan

Bec and Me

On.... um.... Tuesday (?) (you know how the days run together on vacation), while camping with my kids and my parents,... I met my friend Bec for the first time. We actually met in an author's chat room about 5 years ago and have kept in touch ever since. She and her beautiful daughter, J, drove an hour and a half, to the Indiana Dunes, just to meet us. They stayed all day, went to the beach with us, joined us for dinner, and not a second during all that time did I feel like I was with a stranger. We were instant long-time friends and laughed and talked and the kids got along amazingly well, as J is 14 and smack dab in the middle of Dillon and Mackenzie. Here we are:

Bec and Me

(This is Lakewater Hair I am sporting. Jealous much?)

Dillon, Mackenzie & J

FYI

When you read my Blog, I know. I have a statistics tracker that tells me who you are and how often you read. When you found me months ago, I knew it and watched you poke around and come back time and time again.

I understand and accept the consequences of publishing an online diary. I realize that I have posted my full name on the Internet and have therefore made every word I write public information. I realize that friends and family will occasionally find me and begin to read. In fact, I encourage that. The reason I started this Blog three years ago was for my friends and family who were interested in what we were doing on a daily basis and I appreciate it when they are interested enough to read every day. When someone I know finds me, I love it when they send me a note letting me know that they have stumbled upon my writing and are reading along (Hi Rach!).

But. When you use something you have secretly read on my Blog against me in my personal life, it makes an already sad situation worse. I have reasons for doing what I do. Unfortunately, it seems no matter what course I take, it will inevitably be Wrong. Therefore, I have stopped trying. But thank you for pointing out yet another fault to reinforce how Inferior you believe I am. (Or is that how Superior you think you are?) I apparently wasn’t doing a good enough job proving that to you all myself. You should be proud, having raised yourself yet another step above me.

Where's Brandi?

I've disappeared again, right?

Well, not really. I'm in Indiana. Visiting the family. I'll have some photos and an update for you in the morning.

August First

August 1st, 2005 - Dillon vs. telephone pole. Pole wins, Grandpa's F150 nearly totaled. (And he now owns a telephone pole in rural Indiana.)

August 1st, 2006 - Dillon vs. commercial van. Van wins, Mom's Volvo totaled. (Van got a scratch on the bumper.)






August 1st, 2007 - Dillon rides his bike.

Junk Mail Folder

Dear Sim Peterson~

No, I don't think I want to buy into stock at your Bigotry Savings Bank.

I already have an account at Acceptance Savings Bank. Please keep all of your Junk Emails to yourself in the future.

Thank you,

Paige.