Sunday, August 31, 2008

1 Heart, 2 Suicides, 1 Widow

Not the best written article, or even very easy to follow, but still pretty interesting:

2 men and 2 suicides; but both had the same transplanted heart - and the same widow


I finally finished Middlesex today.

Man, it was a fantastic book, but I think some chapters could have been skipped. It got a little Steinbeck-esque with all the descriptiveness and I love me some Steinbeck. It just made it take a little longer to get through and makes it easier to put down.

Now I want to google for information about hermaphrodites, because I love researching about what I just read, but I know it would be a bad idea. A really bad idea probably. Which makes me even more tempted. You know I'll regret it. I know I'll regret it.

I bet I'll do it anyway.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Fucking Mosquitoes

Due to the two weeks of non-stop rain and the standing water everywhere, the mosquitoes are out in full force.

I take a perverse pleasure in killing the little bastards. I CAN NOT kill one without saying "Fucker" or "Motherfucker". Isn't that charming?


Running to and from the house is like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie; screaming, arms waving, blood and guts, slammed doors. My kids look like someone has been putting out cigarettes on their legs.

It's a lot of fun, I tell you. A whole lot of fun.

Dirty Old Man

I'm sitting here with my mouth open in shock still over McCain choosing Palin as VP??

Dude, we liked the idea of a chick, but not just ANY chick.

So this inexperienced nobody could be one skipped 72 year old heartbeat from being our President??

Leave it up to a rich old guy to choose a younger, good looking assistant. I had a job like that once. I wasn't qualified for it either.


My work email is internet based (for now, supposedly I'll have network access one day and it won't be this way) and it times out about every 10 minutes as a security feature.

I swear I spend far more time logging in (two different places, extra secure) than I do checking or sending emails.

It's making me a little crazy.


I was featured on Feedza this week, a cool new site that brings you a variety of tidbits via feeds from different blogs, all almost as funny and entertaining as my own. Go check it out while I work. Don't you dare fall in love with anyone else though, eyes on me all the time, folks.

re: Casey Anthony

Give that guilty bitch a fair trial and then hang her high.

A Monday Treat

I know we're getting a bit of the "Closet of Doom" atmosphere around here again, so I wanted to let you all know that I have a special treat for you on Monday. There's really no reason I couldn't give you the special treat now, but I like to set arbitrary dates for things and keep you all curious, so hold tight until then.

Crossing the Bridge

Apache died last night.

This is so hard on my family, we've had him for 18 years. My poor mom feels not only the shock and sadness of this happening so suddenly, but guilt over not having the $6000-$8000 cash on hand so he could have surgery. I know that we all know that most people wouldn't have it, and most people couldn't do it, but guilt always finds a way to rear it's ugly head during times of sadness.

I'm once again filled with regret. Regret I didn't go see him more often, regret I didn't ride regularly, regret I didn't go over to say goodbye before he headed to the vet. Regret for the end of an era.

My family is horse-less for the first time in a long time. Since I was 7 or 8 maybe? We most likely won't have another horse, and will certainly never have another horse as wonderful to look at and easy to ride as Apache. I don't think anyone has ever fallen off or been thrown from Apache. He had no personality quirks that made anyone crazy. He was sweet to the other horses and great with kids, standing as still as stone as little kid brushed his legs and kissed his shoulders.

We sold him once and he moved to another state, only to have us track him down and get him back later. He's been a member of our family for a long time.

My grieving for Heidi Louise (who I still mourn every single day, all these months later) has convinced me that we will one day meet our pets again. That if I believe in Something after death, and Someone looking out for us and arranging all of those wonderful "coincidences" to remind us of that, and if I know without doubt that animals have as much of a soul as we do (if not more) and that we feel this emotional connection with them, that we will surely meet again. That before I get to the pearly gates, I'll cross the rainbow bridge and be reunited with the unconditional love of the animals who have blessed my life.

But man, is it hard to miss them. It's hard to come to the end of a chapter in your book of life.

Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of him on this computer but here is his home, my parents' barn. The other horses (that belong to friends) will grieve him, having spent almost their whole lives alongside of him. It's just sad. The whole thing is really sad.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Linkey Loos

Bread is bad....mmmmkay? Don't do bread.
Rain gutter bookshelves
The Door to Hell
Banksy in New Orleans, you know I love him, here's an interesting quote from him too
Gorgeous photo
Article that will make you want to say HELL NO to pork (until you forget about it)

Plump Fiction

I heard that Quentin Tarantino is casting Britney Spears in his next movie?

Please tell me this is a really un-funny joke.

I get wanting to do the kitschy, trashy, publicity getting sort of stuff, especially for a movie remake of a film called "Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" but not with Brit Brit. It makes it an instant joke in a not cute way, regardless of the script or plot. Besides, she can't act. Even if the role entailed acting like you can't act, she still couldn't do it.

There are plenty of other white trash contenders that would work. Carmen Electra? Travis Barker's ex wife? I don't want to say it, but I'd even let Paris Hilton squeak by. God, that's bad.

I hope Quentin will reconsider since I adore him and normally think he's a genius, but this time, not so much. Not so much at all.

Hellish Half Day

Today was a "half day" at school. How is it that a half day at school = LONGEST.DAY.EVER for me?

It doesn't seem fair. This is their job now. You don't get half days, especially not the week before a three day weekend. How much of this do they think they can pawn off on me? Not cool.

After fighting with little kid for way too long, I gave him my new silver bangle bracelets. I hear them scattering around on the wood floors occasionally and there's about a 0% chance of me getting them all back, but whatever. I'd give him a stack of diamond tennis bracelets to buy myself a couple minutes to think.

Both boys are also exhausted and crabby and fighting. I'm about to set up a cage match. Out in the garage, or somewhere else I won't have to see or hear it. I'm going to go lay the smack down on both of them in a serious way. They are both crying and shoving/pulling/wrestling over a plastic grocery cart. Sweet Jesus.

Poor Apache

My mom's horse Apache is suddenly really sick, and his diagnosis is not good. Of course, every option to help him runs upwards of $6000, a sum none of us have right now.

I'm just sick about it. He's the best horse, he's beautiful (half Arabian/half Paint), he's "bomb proof", and we've had him since I was a little girl. He's the inspiration for little kid's Horse Mania. He's also the last horse my family has.

Even worse, my mom's just been dealing with one thing after another lately. She loves her animals like she loves her children, I hate that she's having to deal with something so truly painful when life's hard enough anyway lately.

So if you pray, or send good vibes, or hope, please do so for Apache and my mom.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Big Kid spent the entire evening circling my new laptop, eyeing it greedily.

"The screen is so bright compared to my other laptop," I said to Mr. Ashley.

"I can turn dat down for you. Do you want me to turn it down? It's real easy, I'll do it," Big Kid piped up.

"No. You can't touch this computer ever. It is only for my work, not for playing. But will you turn the monitor on my other laptop up for me? I don't know how."

"No. I dest want to help wif your new computer. Dat's da one I like."

Yeah, I bet. Back off vulture. It's mine. I got something nice for once.

I'll have to hide the fact that I have the ability to get on the internet anywhere, or that my phone can now get online, or his little brain will just explode with the possibilities.

Wacky Wednesday

So I did my drug test this morning, went and got the form to take to the lab, stopped at Starbucks to treat myself to some coffee, pulled into the parking lot of the lab, and spilled almost all of the venti sized hot coffee right in my lap.

Oh, I was ticked. It hurt and I was afraid the drug testing people would be even more likely to treat me like a criminal if I walked in there looking like I've just peed my pants and smelling like I've been on a Caramel Macchiato binge. Fortunately, they were unfazed and weren't mean like the last lab. They just seemed bored and got my smelly self out of there quickly.

After that I had to go to the office to pick up some equipment and I was gagging at the smell of me. Did I mention that I was in Mr. Ashley's car and the A/C in it went out? So I was hot and wearing coffee sodden jeans. I decided to hell with this and stopped at the mall first and bought myself new jeans first. Same exact pair, Gap Long & Leans, in a 6 instead of an 8. So the drug test cost me $60, but the retail therapy did do me some good.

I've decided to postpone the pirate party until next Saturday because it's been raining for weeks and hurricane Gustav is out there in the Gulf, and I've just been too busy to get everything done anyway so I'm going to use the very high chance of rain as an excuse to put it off and give me a week longer.

Big Kid is in love again and hopes his beloved can make it to the party if we switch dates, since she couldn't come this week. Her name is Destiny and the other day he came home and wrote her a note that said, "Dear Destiny, Do you want to walk to class with me?"

How cute is that? He's so proud of his newfound ability to walk himself to class with no adult help that he's offering his services as an escort. Unfortunately, she rides the bus, so of course he wants to ride the bus now too, but it's not happening. I know the kinds of things that happen on school buses. No way is my baby getting on a bus, not even for Destiny.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

1 Cup Isn't Enough

I have to take ANOTHER drug test.

I know you're thinking that you doubted I would pass one, but I swear, it's so not my fault.

I guess my company switched labs but forgot to tell everyone, blahblahblah, and lab #1 threw away my sample when the contract with them was canceled.

Only me, right? (Actually 3 other people got screwed too, but still, this is the sort of crap that seems to onlyhappen to me.)

I feel a little violated that they took it upon themselves to discard my perfectly adequate pee. It's violating enough that they treat you like a criminal, you, a perfectly innocent citizen trying to get a job. But the people that work in those places just aren't very nice and are all official and make you feel guilty even if you're not doing anything wrong. Like it's not humiliating enough to have to pee in a cup and hand it to someone.

For a minute, I had myself totally convinced that those 2 glasses of wine I had with Em's mom at the Melting Pot the night before the test had somehow gotten me in trouble, and that my company secretly thought I was a drunk and were second guessing hiring me, but the HR lady told me the mix-up story and seemed sincerely chagrined about having to inconvenience me so (so, so, so).

Tomorrow is going to be super crazy. We were supposed to have a meeting with Big Kid's school about speech, but I have to get them the pee within 24 hours of her typing the form she typed, and I may have to send Mr. Ashley instead.

The principal will be so happy to meet him in person, I'm sure.

Suddenly Sorry

The principal totally tried to brush off my letter by acting like she was sorry I disagreed with their policies. She left a message indicating this on my machine, going on and on about how all they cared about was the safety of the children.

Let's remember (and I'd share the email with you, but it's on my other computer, which is currently not working at all, adding to the glory that is my day, oh and yes, HELL YES, little kid needs full time daycare, hell to the yes-oh-yes-oh-yes) that it's NOT the policy I have a problem with, it was the solution to the problem.

Is their policy to let kindergartners wander around the hallways lost and alone on the 2nd day? I bet not.

She totally ignored the attitude issues and the refusal to get an escort and frankly, didn't seem that apologetic at all.

So now she has to deal with Mr. Ashley.

I can tell she doesn't want to deal with Mr. Ashley because although he's left her several messages with his name and phone number and instructions to call him, she has called here and left another message for me saying she was following up and wanted to make sure all had been okay since then.

Oh, sorry lady. You did it to yourself and now you have to talk to Mr. Ashley, and he's very nice but can also be scary, especially when it comes to asshattery around his children and making his wife cry.

Sucks to be you, sorry would've been so much easier.

Update: Now she's emailed me. She's "reviewed and investigated" the situation and is so appreciative I've made her aware of it.

In that case, she should be even more appreciative to do further review and investigation with Mr. Ashley.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Link Stew

Sharpie'd Lamborghini
Dog rescues abandoned baby
Dachshund pushes wheelchair
Photographic height and weight chart
A really interesting and well done photo series idea
Statue of Liberty in 1883
Old School Japanese Prostitutes

I know link stew is not your favorite Closet meal, my babies, but it's all I've got for you tonight.

Well, there's more in my head. I need a live in transcriptionist. For when I'm too tired to blog. We'll put that on the "When Ashley's rich" list.

I promise you'll be rewarded for your patience. Sooner than you think.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

'Splain Please

I have all kinds of birthday stories, updates and pictures, but I need to talk about something right now. Urgently.

I think I've mentioned to you all before that little kid is horse obsessed. OB-SESS-ED. So, he has lots of horseys. Big horseys, small horseys, horseys with real manes, horseys with baby bottles and blankets, etc, etc, etc.

I've recently noticed another difference amongst the horseys. Many of the horseys are anatomically correct:

I guess that first one is a gelding, the second one is a stallion and the third one is....well, hung like a horse.

Can I ask...Um, WHY?? Why is this necessary?? What pervert is out there insisting on putting male anatomy on horse figurines? I have two different brands represented there, so there's either more than one pervert or he's working for two companies. Also, two of the horses above were sold with baby horses, leading one to believe they were mommy horses until you saw their junk, which is frankly pretty hard to miss.

I don't know. It's just doesn't seem right.

Saint Ashley

-I've been working my butt off (and liking it, I know, weird)

-Friday I not only stopped, but made a U turn to save the life of a turtle in the middle of the road

-Yesterday I donated blood and even let them give me info on donating platelets (it takes TWO hours...and I might do it)

It's like I'm a Good Samaritan all of a sudden. I just had to take a minute and brag about it.

Dear little kid,

Happy Birthday! I can't believe my cuppycake is two years old!!

Just the other day I looked in the rearview mirror and saw you leaning your head against your carseat, your chubby cheek squished against the side, tired little eyes drooping, and I thought, "Wow, he really is still such a baby."

Sometimes I fail to see this babyness, in the rush of life. You'll always be my baby, my snuggler, my warm, chubby little body who will always stop for a hug and a meaningful moment, but you just seem like such a boy most of the time.

I love your 110% boyness. Such a boy! Dirt and mischief and all, you are the stereotype. I look forward to watching your antics through life, even though you can and do make me crazy. You are so funny and so sweet and such a fireball of personality. Right now you're marching around in rain boots and a construction hat, waiting for the mall to open so you can make a horsey at Build a Bear and get the cowboy boots I've been promising you.

You make me laugh every single day. You also remind me what True Love feels like every single day. Thank you for the things you have taught me and the things you will teach me. Thank you for being you, mischief and all. Happy 2nd Birthday, Chooch!

I like you, I love you, and I'll always protect you.

Yours Forever,
Mom (aka MUM MUUUM)

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Funny Stuff

READ reviews on a Borat-esque mankini. Scarily, I think at least one of them was serious.
BEST homeless guy sign ever. Or in a while. I'd give him a buck for creativity.
Oh Lawd. That's all I got. It speaks for itself in a major way
Eating people doesn't give you their memories.
Fight Apathy. Did I share this with you all before? Who cares. I love it.
Funny photos with unexpected backgrounds.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Miss You

I'm so tired! I've been doing all kinds of running around and working. I miss you guys and have so much to comment on. Gwen's baby name?? Sucks ass. One of the stupidest names ever, for realz. I want to elaborate but I'm all talked out.

Also, a couple of your comments literally made me LOL and there are several I wanted to respond to. Wellies are what the cool kids call rain boots. I am not personally concerned about alligators, but that's a good point and I bet they are just wandering all over the damn place now. I haven't heard back from the principal and if I remember I'll share the letter.

Okay that's it, seriously. I'm tired. Good night.

Looking Good

Ashley: So have you met Hudson?

Big Kid: Yes, I hab...(thoughtful)

Ashley: Was he nice??

Big Kid: know what?

Ashley: What?

Big Kid: He had no hair.

Ashley: No...? (wondering, oh man, is it cancer? why is he seeming weird about this?)

Big Kid: ...and he had brown skin. No hair and brown skin.

Ashley: (waiting, stifling a giggle, glad it's not cancer)

Big Kid: But that's okay. He still looks good. He looks great, actuawy. He's nice too.

Ashley: Well of course. People come in all different shapes and sizes and colors and they all still look good.

Big Kid: Yep. He's my favowit.

Interesting that this struck him so. One of his aunts is black, and I noticed two other black students in his class. We live in a pretty diverse area. I think it's because he was picturing Hudson as being white, and the surprise made him finally notice a difference.

I didn't bother to go there with the "black" label because I know he'd argue that he wasn't black, he was brown and I think I like his simplified description rather than any kind of dividing label. It makes it no different than observing that someone has red hair and freckles (a ginger...did you see that South Park?)

Growing up on an island, we were sheltered from diversity in a MAJOR way. My brother thought our Mexican secretary was black until he was 8, I'm not even kidding.

I love that Big Kid has no idea racism exists or is even a possibility. It makes me feel that if we all made a pact as humans to never mention it ever again, that it wouldn't take that long to get rid of. I know that's wishful thinking, but it does give me hope that it will continue to dilute through the generations and that it could happen one day.

Outsourcing little kid

So today when I picked little kid up, he smelled different.

He smelled ethnic.

It's a smell I remember in certain houses when I was in real estate, maybe it's curry?

Well, you say, rolling your eyes, she was probably cooking with curry.

Nope. The house didn't smell like curry. Not at all, but he reeked of it.

I think she's outsourcing her daycare duties. It's the only explanation I can come up with.

He seems happy though and I think she loves him, and in all honesty, as long as I'm getting work done, we're cool, mysterious smells and all.

It's been raining

since MONDAY.

I'm not even kidding, pretty much non stop. It is depressing, wet, and frizz inducing. Our whole city is starting to resemble a scene from Water World. I FINALLY have an excuse to buy a pair of Wellies, but don't have the time and by the time I do, things will probably be all sunshine and roses again.

I'm off to get my hairs did.

Yep, I got my way.

Gloves off

Holy cow, I am tired!!

But instead of going to bed, I stayed up an extra twenty minutes so I can become "that" parent.

That's right, had to send the principal a nasty-gram on only the second day of my kid's school career.

It was a great letter too, one of those well written, accusatory, but unarguably right and guilt inducing masterpieces that will totally suck to have to respond to.

I didn't want it to have to be that way, but my new goal is that by 5th grade, I want at least 85% of the adults in that school to say "Oh crap, here comes Mrs. Ashley" when they see me walking down the hallway.

I gave them their chance. They blew it. It's on now.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

My Weird Assistant

As little kid sits in my lap, kisses my face, squeezes and inspects my nose and gets so close to me we both end up cross eyed while I'm trying to work, I'm silently adding up the cost of full time (and I mean full time) daycare for him.

Screw separation anxiety. That's the daycare lady's problem.


I'm pissed at the lunch lady that wouldn't let him eat his cookie yesterday.

I saved that dinosaur cookie since his birthday and was so pleased with the thought that he'd have such a special treat on his first day of school.

He said he ate all of his sandwich and most of his fruit when he went to take a bite, and some lady told him he had to eat his entire lunch first, and she shoved it back into the lunch box, breaking its head off.

Back off people, if I say he can have a cookie, he can have a cookie. Would they prefer that I send nothing BUT the sandwich and cookie, to make sure he actually gets to eat the cookie?

Do not like. Not one bit.

Second Day of School

and I fucking hate it.

Not the getting up early, not the traffic (although all that sucks too). Somehow in the excitement of it all, I completely forgot that I was committing him to a sheeple processing factory. An institution.

Today I parked way the hell out by the road, again, because of the grossly inadequate parking, took both kids by the hand along with a book bag and a bag of school supplies and party invites and headed for the classroom.

"You can't come back here without a pass," says some jerk with an inflated sense of authority.

"Oh, I didn't kno..."

"You HAVE to have a pass. I'm JUST doing my job."

"Okay, that's fine, I'll get one."

I go to the office to find a line 30 people long, all of them holding their driver's licenses. So I go back out.

"Am I going to need my license?"

"I told you that you need a pass. It doesn't matter if you have a license, you have to have a pass."

"I'm trying to get a pass, I'm just asking you if they'll need my license. I don't have it on me."

"Then you won't be able to get a pass."

"Okay, but he needs to get to his classroom."

"There are all kinds of adults back there, he'll be fine."

"Well, he just turned five and his classroom is at the other side of the building. I'm not sure he would ask, or know who to ask. Could one of the volunteers take him?"

"Yes, fine."

I give him a hug and a kiss and watch as she shoos him down the hallway...alone.

"Wait. It's his second day of kindergarten and his first day in this huge building..."


"I'm just asking you to make sure he gets where he needs to go safely." (near tears, not knowing whether to hate her for being a bitch or myself for being a wuss.)

"Ma'am," she said, grabbing a random passing parent who did have a pass, "Can you take this little boy to Mrs. D's classroom?"

"I don't know where that is?" She says looking baffled.

"One of them will help you," pointing in the general direction of the crowded hallways.

"Um, okay," she replied, taking my child's hand and walking off.

I know I'm overly tired and probably extra sensitive, but I started to cry. I was just so mad. I'm all for policies, especially for safety, but I'm also all for having a brain and a heart, and I personally couldn't have treated a tired mom with a toddler and a brand new kindergartener like she was going to burst into the school with a machine gun and start killing or molesting people on the second day.

There was far more danger in her original plan of just shooing him down the hallway alone. Sure he would've gotten there eventually but would his fear and confusion on the second day of school been worth protecting the masses from his stupid mother who forgot her driver's license?

Jerk. I'm writing a letter. I'm not just saying that either, I'm going to at least let the principal know that maybe there should be a little bit of flexibility on the second day of school, or at least kindness and the promise that my child will be well taken care of.

My computer is TRASHED. I don't know what's up, my anti-virus doesn't know what to do, my screen is all distorted and huDge, I'm going to go shut down and pray for a miracle upon re-boot. Today's got to get better, right?

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Beware of Sealing Wax

I have tea stained hands and a hole in my leg from creating Big Kid's invitations, and I'm not even done with the ones that need to be mailed.

Sealing wax burns like a bitch, just in case you were wondering. It still hurts.

I'm too worn out to go check, but remember last year how I had the ginormous circus birthday bash? Didn't I tell you all to stop me if I start getting all crazy like that again?

Well, next year...NO PARTIES. I mean it. We're going to Disney World, or something.

I love doing it but every year I end up with bodily injury and excessive last minute stuff to do. This year I blame you, for not stopping me or at least warning/reminding me.

It will be a kick ass party though.

Also, you know how I can never get the cork out of a bottle of wine? The bottle in the fridge was already open, but Mr. Ashley had pushed the cork in there really tight.

I tried pulling, tugging, walking into the room to see if Mr. Ashley would wake up, the traditional corkscrew method...and finally decided to use the corkscrew to hack the cork into a million pieces, pushing it through and into the wine, which I'm enjoying a glass of.

Hey, it worked.

Big Kid's First Day

I swore I wouldn't do it, but I started to get all choked up as that kindergarten classroom door closed.

Not so much because he's growing up, but because it was one of those "Damn, I really am a grown up" sort of moments.

I have two kids, a house, an SUV, I'm waiting in the car rider line...

I'm a real, live grown up.

How the heck did it happen? When??

I picked him up after school and he shouted out as soon as he saw me, "I had a great day at school today!" He was so genuinely happy.

We hopped in the car and I began the obligatory quiz:

Ashley: Did you make friends?
Big Kid: Lots of fwiends. I have so many fwiends.
Ashley: How nice! Who was your favorite friend today?
Big Kid: Hmmmm. I fink Hudson. He wasn't here today, but dat's who I pick.
Ashley: He wasn't there today? ...
Big Kid: No. Not yet. My second favowite is Justin, 'cuz dat rhymes wif Hudson.

So his best friend at school today was the one absent kid?? Am I right to be concerned? Because that's weird. We know he's weird, but come on now.

little kid is gearing up for a major Separation Anxiety phase. We didn't do that with Big Kid because he was easy. Not little kid.

As soon as he realized I was headed for the door after dropping him off at daycare, he stepped between me and it, held his arms out wide, and said, "Mum, Doh go mum. No doh go mum. Muuuum." Then he started crying. I finally just had to make a break for it and pull away while watching him cry in the window.

He was having a grand old time when I picked him up though and she said he did great. But tonight when I had to leave the house to run an errand he pulled the "Doh go, mum" business again and followed me around crying. It kind of breaks my heart.

But I guess all in all, today went really well. I got stuff done, Big Kid liked school, little kid had fun at day care, and I realized I was a real, live grown up...well that last part sucked, but still.

Blame little kid

Everyone in the house blames everything on little kid. Shoes missing? little kid. Battery charger gone? little kid. Unpaid bill disappeared? little kid.

However, it's not always his fault. I try to remind everyone of this, particularly those who are prone to misplacing things anyway (ahem, Mr. Ashley), but old habits die hard, and the blame usually still falls on little kid until proven otherwise.

I just had the following exchange with Big Kid:

Big Kid: little kid messed wif your computeh. I been watchin' it and it's doin' crazy fings.

Ashley: No, my computer has a virus. It's kind of like it is sick or something. It just started late last night, but it may have to go to the computer doctor.

Big Kid: Oh, dat probwy is what it is. So little kid downloaded a viwus to your computeh? Dat was a bad boy.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

First Day Eve

So tomorrow is the first day of school!

Uniform is laid out, backpack is ready, lunch is bento'd.

Tomorrow is also little kid's first day of day care. I packed his butt ugly monkey lunch box even though he'll probably only be there until noon-ish. I figure I'll start everyone off slow, you know, make her think she's capable of this before I let her get a full day in and realize she's not making enough money to handle Baby E-bull.

As I type this, I realize I'm not as prepared as I should be. I don't have any of little kid's stuff ready, I was going to pack his backpack with his horses and horse movies. Hopefully I can round them all up in the morning. He'll also need diapers and wipes (and yes I'm still making my own, but bought some for when others are forced to deal with him) and a clean outfit, I guess.

This whole morning thing is going to suck. 8:20am? Every day, five days a week? That's just insane. It's going to be life-changing and not in a good way. I read an article about some schools and businesses who were switching to longer, four day weeks to save fuel and energy. That's a great idea, I wish we all could.

So tomorrow I've got a ton of work to do and a ton of phone calls to make. I also have to seriously harass my hair dresser. You know how I always wait until the last second and then call and want an appointment right away because it's an emergency, and they say that it's not going to happen for whatever reason, so then I have to call back until I get someone willing to relay the exact emergency to my hair dresser so that I get my way promptly?

Yeah, I've got to do all that tomorrow. She's going on vacation next week too, so this is going to take serious begging and pleading. There may be a photo shoot involved for my new job and roots are simply not an option. She'll understand and find a way, or get someone else to do it, but I feel bad that I'm such a turd to deal with.

It probably won't be the last time either. Also, the guy she'll probably get to do it if she can't is the one that lent me the book that Murphy peed on.

So, that should be fun. I'll have to break the news and give him the replacement book.

"Sorry my dog peed on your book and I screwed up your schedule. Can we go blonder this time?"

Pirate Brudders

The storm was pretty boring, so instead I bring you pirates:

Aren't they scary? Yeah, I think so too.

Monday, August 18, 2008

And the Rain

Rain, Rain came falling down...

and down...

and down...

Shutters are up and rain is falling, and has been all night. I feel claustrophobic already, being all boarded up.

I do have wine and ice cream, so things should be fine, but tomorrow is going to be a loooong day.

Ashley is Happy

I got a book in the mail from Amazon from my boss today.

Do you even know how much I love that? That I get to take a long bath, read a good book, and call it work tonight?

Have I bragged enough about how happy I am about this job? You guys were so right with that "everything happens for a reason" nonsense, annoying as it was at the time. It's just so perfect for me and I'm just so excited about it.

There isn't one part of it that I'm dreading or wishing I didn't have to do. I keep waiting for something awful about it to surface, but I don't think it will. I think I have actually found a kick ass company and super cool bosses and a really fun job. My phone anxiety has even diminished, it's amazing how easy phone calls are to make when there is virtually no chance of someone on the other end freaking out and yelling at you. Real estate people yell. A lot. I can't imagine too many situations that would cause yelling in this new job. That feels so good!

I actually LOOK FORWARD to making calls so I can check more off of my to do lists.

Yay me! Even with all of this rain, and the gloom of the hurricane shutters, I am HAPPY. About work, at that!

I just had to say it loud because I'm bursting with it. I also need to thank you all for putting up with me through unemployment and the interview process, I know it wasn't always easy ;-)

little kid

just ate about a quarter of my brand new bar of "Sparkling Green Tea" soap from Old Navy.

Dear Tropical Storm Fay,

Summer is over.

Summer is so, so over.

I am done with summer and I am done with Stay-at-home-momdom and yet you prolong the torture with your appearance.

I am very tolerant of tropical storms normally. One could even say I am fond of them; everyone gets the day off, they aren't as scary as hurricanes, and everyone ends up grilling their freezer contents since the power is out, and getting drunk since they know they aren't driving anywhere.

However, your timing really sucks. These kids are making me crazy, today is the longest day ever and I only have tomorrow to look forward to. Tomorrow in a claustrophobic, hurricane-shuttered house with two whiny kids and the possibility of no power or God forbid, no internet.

I have had nothing to do, nothing at all urgent YET this year and on the week I leave SAHMdom for a kick ass job, and my kids leave this house to be handled by professionals, here comes you.

So, make it quick, make it easy, no power outages, no flooding, school starts on Wednesday and not a second later.

Not one second.



Big Kid: You know what? Da utter day, when I was at Em's house, I said "Eureeka!" and she went and told her mudder dat I called her a retawd.

Ashley: (snorting back a laugh)

Big Kid: Don't laugh, it's not funny. I don't eben know what a retawd is and she's sayin' I called her dat and twied to get me in twouble wif her mom.

Ashley: Well, what did Aunt Em's mom say?

Big Kid: She dest said, "Oh boy" like she was tired or somefing.

Ashley: Yeah, she probably was pretty tired. Don't say that word though, it's not nice.

Big Kid: I neber eben did say it! How come you don't listen? I said Eureeka!

Ashley: Well, that's a pretty weird thing to say too. I'd skip both from here on out.

Note to Self

Don't ever do anything fun with the kids again.

They are just too tired and crabby the next day, and I find myself lacking the energy to deal with all of the whining, crying, fighting and nonsense.

Keep them locked in their dark rooms so that they won't expect anything and so that you don't have to hear them.

It's 10am and I'm about to swaddle them both up like newborns and leave them on the doorstep of the firehouse and run like hell. If only Big Kid would forget our phone number...

Sunday, August 17, 2008


Remember how Big Kid was hoping his new teacher looked like his new doctor, with straight, brown hair in a ponytail?

Well, we met her on Friday and he couldn't have custom ordered someone to fit the bill more perfectly. If his doctor was ten years younger, she'd be his teacher. Their last names are even only off by a few letters. It's uncanny.

I told her how fortuitous the whole thing seemed and she promised to wear her hair in a ponytail often and thought the whole thing was hysterical. I really like her, she's young, funny and energetic and the class room is really nice. I'm excited for Big Kid, I think he's in for a great kindergarten year.

I'm a little nervous for little kid. Thursday the boys stayed at Em's house and little kid sobbed as I left. "Mum-mum, no, mum-mum." He gave Em's mom a run for her money all day long, reminding her how difficult my day to day life with him really is, and everyone was happy to see me at pick up time.

little kid didn't let me out of his sight the rest of the night. More than that, he didn't let me out of his reach all night. I had to go to the bathroom once and he cried "Mum-Muuuuuuum" the whole time. Otherwise, he sat on me like a warm sack of potatoes, rubbing his hair against my mouth and turning around to squeeze me in a hug every few minutes.

If he's like that at Em's house, whose family he knows and loves, how's he going to be about me dropping him off at a stranger's house?

It has to happen though. I've got to kick ass at this job.

So his first day will be Tuesday, which is the same as Big Kid's first day, or should be if this damn tropical storm manages not to hit us. I just need things to settle down and get on schedule, tropical storms aren't on my schedule.

Today we went to the waterpark because Big Kid has been waiting all year to turn five so that he could go down the water slide. Every time turning five has been mentioned, he has reminded us that he'll be old enough to go down the slides. After much excitement and a little bit of nervousness, we walked up to the gates...and discovered that they changed it from 5 years old to 48 inches.


Big Kid was a champ about it. He was a little annoyed, but after we told him it must be for safety reasons, he understood. We call him The Safety Patrol, he's serious about safety. I was sort of ticked though, I remember going down water slides with my parents when I was little. Also, it doesn't seem fair to discriminate against the short and slow-growing like that.

Oh well, we had fun anyway.

Let's hope Tropical Storm Fay doesn't interrupt my week or inconvenience me in any way. I'd be fine with this in a few weeks from now, because hazardous weather and the preparations that come with it can be fun, but not now. Not this week. We've got school and a job to start!

Saturday, August 16, 2008

The Sun'll Come Out

I'm tired tonight, but feel guilty about going a whole day with not posting, so here's some links to soothe my guilty soul:

Flexible furniture
A cool sink
Rock cushions
Backyard retreats
Crib Candy website I like

I know, I know, I suck.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, there's always tomorrow...

Friday, August 15, 2008


page views since The Closet opened.

I am proud and confused all at the same time.

You people really will do anything to avoid work, won't you?

We're having a freaking party when we get to a million.

Dear Everyone I Know,

I don't want to go to your Mona Vie tasting party, I don't want to buy kitchen utensils from you, I don't want to buy food from you, I don't want to buy home decor from you, I don't want to buy purses from you, I don't want to buy makeup or skin care stuff from you, I don't want to buy stamping or scrapbooking supplies from you, I don't want to buy candles from you.

Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT invite me to a "party" and then tell me that I have to sit and listen to boring stuff and/or buy stuff at said party. That does not equal a party to me, it equals a sales presentation.

I will consider GOOD QUALITY knock off purses, perused at my leisure with no pressure and I'll almost never turn down a sex toy party because that's just plain fun.

Let's just have parties because we like each other and not because we want to profit off of each other.

Ashley Quite Frankly

No More Babies Says Big Kid

We were watching cartoons on TLC when "A Baby Story" came on.

"Uh-oh, get outta my way little kid. Dere's a baby show on, I need to change da channel quick before our mudder tinks she wants anudder baby. 'Cuz we don't need anudder baby, dat's for sure."

For sure indeed.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

First Day of Work

I am so tired.

But also so happy! Shit people, this job is freaking amazing. It's a little intimidating how much they trust me with all of this responsibility. They are trusting me with money and hiring decisions and all judgment calls. It is astounding. They are also not only accepting of my photography business, they are willing to provide some amazing opportunities.

They're also all super nice and seriously smart. I'm impressed that I was hired.

I wore a cute Ann Taylor collared blouse that I got on sale for $10. It had short squeezing sleeves and was blue silk and buttoned up the front. I felt a little like a fat man in a little coat when I stretched my arms out in front of me, but I had no reason to stretch my arms out like that other than to test the squeeziness of the arms (which I did several times, because I'm a freak like that).

It had sort of a deep V before the buttons started and at one point I caught my boss looking at my chest a couple of times. I was starting to wonder if she was checking out my bewbies or what, so I glanced down and there was no cleavage showing or anything so I just sort of forgot about it and thought she was a little odd.

Sure enough, I get home after dinner, look in the mirror and a freaking button was unbuttoned. Fuck. How long was it like that? At least since 3pm but how much longer before that? Cute Ash, real cute.

My pants were these fan-freakin-tastic black with black pinstripe Ann Taylor trousers that I got on sale for $40 down from $150. They fit me like they were made for me; they were comfortable, they were the perfect length, fully lined...they felt like $150 pants.

Sure enough, I got home after dinner, took them off and noticed that I left the tags on.

How freaking hopeless am I? I am not fit for the public, I tell you. Luckily the tags were definitely inside my pants and my shirt was not tucked in, so no one saw, but still. Damn. It definitely put a chip in my ultra-confident, oh-so-executive armor. And now I just told thousands of people.

Oh well, she liked me, boobies and all.

So tomorrow will be another all day affair and then the bosses will go back up north and set me loose on the world. I will be working from home. I will be online a lot. So things with us should be fine, I don't want anyone freaking out, I know today must have sucked for you all.

Just think, we're another step closer to the Ashley's Closet cruise!

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Tomorrow I Start

I believe I found daycare for little kid today!

The best part is, it's a policeman's wife and the cop was completely charmed by little kid. I think that this "in" with the police department could seriously benefit my little felon in the future.

Super sweet, wholesome couple. He was very talkative, total "good ol' boy", right up little kid's alley and vice versa. She is quiet, calm and nice. They live in a lovely home and little kid loved their one year old and I guess there is another boy who is little kid's age that comes three times a week.

This is a major step up from the place we went yesterday. Big Kid, the daycare critic, no longer felt the need to interview daycare providers because he really liked the lady we met yesterday and thought her house seemed fun. He was ticked that I would betray her by checking out someone else but as we were leaving today he said, "Dis is da best daycare yet. Dis is where little kid needs to be goin'. Dis is a good house, she is a good teacher." I agree.

We had stopped by a big corporate run daycare in town the other day and I was stunned by the number of kids in one room and the overwhelming stench of crap. As we walked to the car, I said, "I just don't know about this place" and Big Kid said, "Yeah, I know. I was really embawassed for dem 'cuz it dest smelled like poop so bad. We can't be leavin' him places dat smell like poop." I agree.

Driving away from there today I felt so at ease and little kid was in the back seat happily yelling, "Scoo mum, scoo". As we were leaving, I told him to give a hug goodbye, nodding to the one year old, and he turned and threw himself into the daycare lady's arms and gave her a trademark squeeze before turning and laying one on her daughter. They both loved it.

I warned her that if there's a Sharpie in the house he'll find it, or an opportunity for mischief he'll take it, and she said she can handle it. She'll only be watching him 2-3 days a week and I bet you anything he goes over there and acts like a total doll for her every single time. Freaking turd.

We then went to Wal-mart to get the rest of Big Kid's school supplies and little kid picked out the ugliest lunch box ever. Seriously. I don't even know if he'll need a lunch box, but he was so excited to be part of things that I let him get one. But damn is it ugly. I've got to get a picture of it for you, it's so "him".

Tomorrow is Day 1 of the big job. I've never been so excited about a job before. I'm nervous, semi-sick-to-my-stomach nervous, but also really excited. I'll be in all day training tomorrow and they invited me out for dinner afterwards. So that's a big day there. Then all day training Thursday, then a conference call on Friday morning (you know how much I'm looking forward to that) and Big Kid's meet the teacher on Friday afternoon.

Big Kid is excited about starting school and is hoping his new teacher resembles his new doctor, or at least has the same hair. I guess he is fond of brunettes with ponytails. Alrighty then. We'll see on Friday.

So the rest of the week will definitely be crazy and you all will definitely be missing me. You've been warned. I'll check in though, you know I can't stay away.

Monday, August 11, 2008


Manic Monday

I didn't start my new job today, for all those wondering. There is some sort of human resources hold-up, but someone did ask if I could come in on Wednesday.

Now I just need to find someone to watch little kid on Wednesday...

I am in a mad rush interviewing home day care providers. It's scary how any idiot can put an ad up on Craigslist. I go meet one tonight and I'm hoping I can meet another one tomorrow. I thought there was a third but she's not getting back to me and that's not a good sign.

Luckily, I will mostly be working from home (I believe) so at least I have a little bit of flexibility and time to figure out what to do with him.

I'm also still on the chicken obsession. I tried to make myself stop, but I have no control. Now that I can't, it's like I HAVE TO. I did find a local lady who will just give me free eggs, so now I have no excuse not to try again. So I'm preparing the incubator and getting backup supplies for a better chance of success this time.

I know, I know, I should probably wait, but you all know I won't be deterred. Call it spoiled, call it determined, but I won't accept this not happening. I'm going to be a Mother Hen. At least I've found an almost-free way. I was starting to get all obsessed with chicken breeds or whatnot, but that's over the top, even for me. Free eggs are free eggs, and I'll take them.

(and I've heard a rumor that some are bored with chicken talk...hold tight for the waaaahmbulance, it's on its way.)

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Waste of Time

I've spent way too much time tonight playing with this virtual sand art game at

Click the little gray box in the bigger light gray box for instructions. Basically you just throw grains of sand around and can change their color by pressing C. Sounds thrilling, right? Yeah, somehow it is sort of relaxing.

I made a beautiful and time intensive sunset before looking at the gallery and realizing how much mine sucked compared to the good ones. Now I'm turned off, but it was fun while it lasted.

Empty Nest Syndrome-Again

So I've just completed the Egg Autopsy. One more baby chick and the rest just yucky. Out of 24 eggs, there were only three real chicks and only one looked 100% developed (the others I'd say were a 98%, their tummies weren't all healed up yet).

I'm really bummed about it. I stayed up all night looking at other eggs and other chickens and reading posts from people who were all kissy face with their brand new baby birdies. I decided to just forget about it for a week and go to bed, but I've woken up unable to forget about it and resenting the lucky ducks who are all kissy face with their chickies.

I have two options: 1. Buy more hatching eggs and try incubating again or 2. Buy day old baby chicks. Option 1 is cheaper but involves more hope and potential for heartache. Option 2 brings guaranteed results but costs more, seems sort of mean (they mail day old baby chicks!), and robs me of the chance to be their mother.

I mean, I know I'll still be their mother, but I wanted to birth them. What if going through the mail at a day old causes psychological problems and makes them unable to trust me? What if I don't feel maternal to them and their weird feet creep me out too much to love them? And for some reason, if they turned out to be roosters it would seem even more unfair. I don't know why, but it's one thing if I hatch roosters, another if I unknowingly pay for and have roosters mailed to me.

Mr. Ashley isn't feeling the urgency re: chicks but you know how men are, they don't bond until something cute is sitting there in front of them. He was feeling a little tenderness towards the perfect-other-than-being-dead chick. Big Kid votes for just getting mail order chicks because we "seem to be havin' pwoblems wif all dese eggs." little kid ran over to the empty brooder this morning to see if any chicks were in there and yelled "babies!" when he saw the incubator outside, sterilizing in the sun.

It's not fair I tell you. I've been reading about people whose temps and humidity were all off, or who are incubating in some crazy homemade contraption, or who are dealing with eggs that other eggs exploded all over...and they have chicks. I just want to know WHY I don't have chicks. I want a real chick autopsy, by a professional.

I really just want some freaking chicks. Even just one chick would work.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Dead Chick

Sad news.

The eggsperts said it was time to be worried, so I began poking holes in the top of the eggs to see why the heck nothing was going on. About 16 were nothing but yolk or early embryos, but then I got to one where I could see feathers.

The eggsperts said if it wasn't moving in there that it was dead, so I picked the rest of the shell off and there was a perfectly formed (but definitely dead) little chick in there.

It was really sad. It's one thing when you're dealing with some scrambled yolk or little rubbery alien eyed things, but quite another when it's a precious, balled up little chicky. I sort of feel like a murderer.

I put the rest back in the incubator, but have very little hope. The eggsperts say you never can tell why it happened and everyone gets bad hatches now and again but I think they're just trying to make me feel better. Two bad hatches? I'm a serial chicken killer.

Maybe God doesn't want me to have chickens? Maybe God wants me to have fancier, more exotic looking chickens?

Let Them Eat Cake

All of you who had faith that I'd pull it were right!

I didn't make those awesome cookies though. Right after I discovered my dilemma, I remembered this lady that I kept running into online. There were like three different occasions/websites I've encountered her and I remembered that her cookies were cute, so I looked her up again and she actually lives within driving distance. Totally meant to be.

The cookies were PERFECT. I had kept warning Big Kid that they would not be identical to the Nick Jr. cake and he was worried about that. When we saw them, he was amazed by how good they were! They taste seriously good too, I can't stay out of them, none of us can.

My cake creation was quite an adventure and my volcanoes leave a little to be desired, but it got done. I've been eating the leftovers all day long.

I can't say enough good things about this baker though. She actually has an Etsy store called A Sugar Affair and she ships cookies and treats too. I've heard good things about her online business, I was just super lucky to live close enough to meet her somewhere, and that she was nice enough to sympathize with the whims of an almost 5 year old. So bookmark her, I was glad I did.

Before he went to bed yesterday, Big Kid gave me a hug and said, "Today was my best birfday ever." He's so worth spoiling.

Dear Chickens,

Get the fuck out already.

I have now spent SIX weeks of my life checking temperatures and turning eggs three times a day. I have a hard time believing that I am unable to get even 1 chick from a total of 36 eggs and two hatches.

My thermometer is good, humidity is right...come on. How do chickens do it in such inexact circumstances? How do teachers do it, having to transport and/or go home on the weekends? How do not-so-smart people do it?

I planned on your arrival yesterday. I was okay with pushing things back to today. You're out by tomorrow, I'm serious. And you better not be dead or I will be so freaking pissed it won't even be funny.

I look forward to meeting you.

Your Mother,

Friday, August 8, 2008

Click to Enlarge

Dear Big Kid,

Five years ago today, I met you for the first time.

I remember gazing down at you the day after you were born (I was tired, drugged, and worried about your resemblance to an alien on that first day), and knowing with absolute certainty that you would go on to do great things.

I am even more sure of that fact five years later, now that glimpses of the person you're becoming have emerged. I can't even tell you how proud I am of you. I am incapable of being humble when it comes to people complimenting you. I can't just smile, nod, and thank the people who tell me you are beautiful or intelligent or funny, instead I find myself agreeing and adding to the list of qualities.

You are an amazing little guy. I enjoy every day with you and am so excited to watch you on this journey through life. It's a neat feeling to have made such a fantastic person, and to be a part of something so great, and have front row seats to the show of his life.

I hope your fifth year is as much fun as your fourth was. You have grown so much and learned so much and are such a good boy. Every night when I go to bed, I think of you and your brother and feel warm and happy and oh so lucky to be your mom.

So Happy Birthday, Big Guy! I like you, I love you, and I'll always protect you.

Yours Forever (and Ever),

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Cut the Cheese

So I got Big Kid's last immunization shot today.

I had to go to the same place that houses the WIC office. For those of you who don't know, WIC is a nutritional program for low income mothers so that they can get checks to buy juice, formula, cheese, peanut butter, etc. and learn about good nutrition.

Well, at the risk of offending lots of people, something has gone horribly wrong with this program. I don't know if the money saved on cheese is going towards chips and soda, or if each family member eats two pounds of cheese per sitting, but I've never seen a room full of fatter people ever (and it was a super crowded room).

Every single person over the age of 1 was overweight. Most of them were also rude, loud, and had dirty/inappropriately dressed children who weren't expected to behave.

I was about to go bat shit crazy in the waiting room and was ready to start handing out spankings and taking baby bottles away from 4 year olds myself. I finally walked down the hall and asked the nurse if the kids and I could wait in her hallway because I just couldn't take it anymore and she took pity on me.

I know it's wrong to stereotype and for all I know everyone in the room could've had a thyroid problem and kids with Autism, so I shouldn't ASSume anything...but I thought it was an interesting observation/coincidence.

Cake Update

So, I've been working on Big Kid's cake. I found someone to save the day with dino cookies, you'll hear more about that later.

However, I'm doing the actual baking and I've totally gone and screwed things up. Let's say the cake didn't leave the pan gracefully. Let's say it landed in a warm crumbly mound that I picked up and ate by the handful.

I did successfully bake one layer, after much assistance from the bargain board. I guess I'll get another box of mix and try for layer #2 tomorrow.

I think asking me to bake cakes is really expecting too much.

Eggspert Says

According to a chicken expert, our chicks are actually due on Saturday instead of Friday.

Let's hope I'm better at Faux Farming than I am at math.

Hatch Day Tomorrow?

I know everyone wants an egg update, but there really isn't one.

They're still sitting there.

Supposedly, tomorrow will be hatch day, but I'm less and less sure of that. I think some of them are probably alive, in fact, I swear one may even be moving (because it's not usually where I left it) but I don't see or hear anything indicative of any major excitement.

I'm trying to leave them alone and remind myself that Mother Nature has got this covered. Sometimes I think I know more than her though, like the time I grew butterflies and became the Butterfly Midwife...that didn't go so great. Two of them lived though, so you never know, we could have a few hardy chicks regardless of my impulse control problems and complete lack of knowledge.

I think I forgot to tell you all that there was another stinker that I went all CSI on and I think this one died around day 11. It had both eyes and a teensy beak shaped thing and feather stubbles near it's bottom! I didn't kill it though, it was definitely already dead. Through no fault of my own, as far as I know. I almost took a picture for you all and then decided maybe you wouldn't want to see it? I'm lazy, so I skipped it.

Anyway, tomorrow we will see what happens! Who knows how many chicks we will end up with or what rescue missions I may be called to do...

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

3 Strikes

I'm not ignoring or avoiding you all, just having a super busy and super hard week. I'd rather be in the Closet, trust me.

*The Jesus People don't want little kid. None of them. They take one look at him and declare that they've had a year long waiting list and I'll never get him in to a two year old program. The Jews will take him but they've changed their tuition for that age level and it is INSANE. Truly unbelievable. I have NO OPTIONS except for an unverified home daycare that I'm not feeling thrilled about.

*I think I just lost most of a client session. I didn't have it properly backed up yet, technical difficulties occurred, data recovery people will have to get involved now and I want to kill myself. It's not something that can be re-shot either. Have I mentioned that I want to kill myself? Seriously puke-tastic over this one. God damn me.

*Remember that $400+ doctor's appointment Big Kid had for his school shots? Well, they forgot a shot. Now the school won't put him in a class until I come back with proof that he has had it. I walked into the health department the other day and walked right back out because it was TOTAL CHAOS. Now tomorrow is the last day I have to get this fucking shot and get the papers to the school. How do people who don't vaccinate do it? I'm just going to tell everyone this particular shot is against my religion and to leave me the hell alone.

I'm really tired, so I think I'll go to bed and lie there sleeplessly sick to my stomach over these potentially lost photos while agonizing over what to tell the client (she's expecting them soon...real soon).

Let's hope the poor people all sleep in tomorrow and Big Kid can get his shot in a manner that will be relatively painless for me.

Um...No Really

Big Kid's birthday is Friday and he's been telling me that he wants me to make him a dinosaur cake (we have a big pirate party planned for the end of the month, this is his request for the family celebration). I figured if it was something he'd found on Nick Jr., then chances are I could possibly create something that vaguely resembled it or ask Publix to.

So today I asked him to show me and THIS is what he thinks I will whip up for him. Hmmm. I could swing the volcano part, but the intricate dino cookies??? Where the hell will I get those? Could a grocery store bakery do that for me? Would a baker bake a dozen dino cookies for me at an unridiculous price with very little prior notice?

I suggested we look for another cake and he wasn't happy with that idea. I suggested plastic dinosaurs and he explained that the cookie dinosaurs were his "favowite fing about dat cake".

Sorry kid, your mom isn't Martha. Your mom is also pretty damn tired this week, anniversary of your glorious birth or not. We may have to compwomise.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

They Got Ashley

I've got to say, the actual hire was almost a let down. I had worked it up to such an enormous event and then the reality lacked the spectacular-ness that I was hoping for.

I was picturing something like that scene in Annie when Daddy Warbucks decides to take her in. You know, where the whole staff dances through the house singing, "We got Annie! We got Annie? WE GOT ANNIE!!"

I was imagining something sort of like that, people cheering, "We got Ashley!" and carrying me around on a chair while leaping and sliding across tables and doing cart wheels and whatnot.

I mean, I was thinking there would at least be an email or phone call informing me of the hire.

Instead I came home at 4pm on Friday to nothing. No message, nothing. My brother called right then and told me that an old friend of his worked there and got along well with one of the ladies that interviewed me. She (the friend) has also read the Closet and thought that I should have included it on my resume.

My brother and I argued back and forth on whether or not this was a foolish idea. He wanted my permission to tell the friend to leak it to her coworker (they swear she hasn't, but regardless, I want to say that her coworker, my now-supervisor, is young, gorgeous and impressive and I'm not just saying that to cover my ass in case she reads this. I was impressed. I'd even say there was Girl Crush potential there.)

I didn't want to, not because I'm embarrassed of the Closet, but because I don't want to go screwing it up for myself. It's just easier for "real-life" people not to know. I can't even tell you how guilty I feel about not telling some people. Like Girl Crush...what a freak I am to keep it from her, but how the hell could I tell her now?

I swear I'll do anything for you people sometimes. I can't risk lowering the potential to entertain you all and the more people that know, the more complicated it gets and the guiltier I feel.

Anyway, my brother had almost convinced me by stating that it was truly the 11th hour, they were hiring someone that day and the day was almost over and at least I would find out one way or another and know that I didn't screw myself by not sharing it.

Right then, I had another call beep in. An assistant from the HR department asking if I had filled out an application. I told her I hadn't and she said she would email it over with the offer letter. "So I'm hired?" I asked.

" one has spoke to you about this?"


"Well, I don't have the authority to tell you that, but if they are doing a background check and sending an offer letter...probably."

And that was it.

I then got the offer letter and the salary amount was not the same that was originally mentioned. She had mentioned a number in the low-somethings and it was actually a number in the mid-somethings right below that number. I'm pretty used to getting Screwed by The Man though, so I just signed away my rights to privacy and gave them some pee with a smile and truly feel excited, grateful and happy about the whole situation. I'll renegotiate once I've proven that they can't live without me.

It is a super cool job. I wish I could come right out and tell you but that's not a good idea. It is media related and mom related and I will be In Charge. Woo-hoo. My business card has a fancy title. I'll have a Blackberry and laptop. It will be something I will truly love doing and something I really know that I'll be good at. I do believe they are as lucky to have found me as I am to have found them, it really is an awesome opportunity.

I will say that now that putting little kid into some sort of daycare is a real possibility, I find myself wondering how I can do that to my Choo-Choo (that's what we call him, Choochie LaRue).

Don't get me wrong, I'm still doing it. Oh am I doing it. I just feel a little tender about it. He's such a baby still and such a mama's boy.

I was going to send him to The Jews, because I can trust them and I adore them, but I think little kid needs Jesus in his life. Plus, the Jesus People are less expensive and more flexible. I still need to check them out in person, but so far they're beating The Jews.

All in all, we're entering into what feels like an exciting time in all our lives. Both boys going to school and making new friends, Mr. Ashley getting his new job, me getting my new job, us having two jobs with steady salaries and benefits.

Now let's just hope I pass the drug and background tests...

(kidding, kidding...I should pass...)

Monday, August 4, 2008

Girl Date

Tonight Em's mom and I decided to go out and celebrate my new job. We had the perfect night.

At one point, we were walking together, completely alone on a deserted stretch of beach, the soft sugar sand lit up pink and orange because of the sunset, rays of light cutting patterns through the wispy, fluffy clouds and dolphins frolicking (I shit you not, there were dolphins) on the horizon, and I turned to her and said, "This is the most romantic night I've had in a long time." And she agreed.

It was just beautiful. The conversation, the sunset, the private corner booth at The Melting Pot, our waiter, Steve, who understood our passion for bananas dipped in milk chocolate and brought us an endless supply without so much as a dirty look...(he did not have the answers to some of life's bigger questions though, we did ask)...perfection.

Now I am stuffed full, I mean really and truly GORGED, and a little bit tipsy and feeling pretty darn good all around.

Remember that article I told you all about where women release Oxytocin when spending quality time together? Remember my love of Oxytocin (breastfeeding, anyone?)? Yeah, that. I love that.

Next Monday, I start The Job. Contingent on a drug test and background check, of course. Don't worry, I'll pass both, and assure them that my life really is as boring as promised.

Other than the girl dates and the exploding dinners, things are pretty tame. Let's hope they don't test for Oxytocin or Pinot Grigio.


If something says "oven safe" on it, that does not mean you can use it on the stove top.

But you probably already knew that.

I know, I know

I'm behind in entertaining you all.

Read THIS about a feral child (and the scumbag "mother" didn't even get jail time)

THIS has to be one of the most thoughtful and creative gifts ever given by a man.

HERE is an article about internet trolls. Thankfully, we've had nothing but amateurs in the closet thus far. There are scarier, more pathetic people out there than we realize.

SOME GUY built an arc, just like Noah.

Hidden Van Gogh painting revealed by x-ray technology.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Stuff in my Sidebar

keeps getting messed up and it's ticking me off.

I am aware of it and I will be looking into it later.

I slept until almost 1 IN THE AFTERNOON today...that's freaking crazy.

I have lots to say, but it'll have to be later.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Yay! Yay! Yay!

I got the job!

Contingent on a full background check, and I mean a FULL BACKGROUND CHECK. Holy cow, it's insane the amount of information they feel they have a right to. There's no background to check and nothing to hide, but you know how this Big Brother sort of stuff freaks me out.

I'm really excited and happy, but also nervous and really tired. I've had a big week and a busy day. I'm too beat to even celebrate properly, maybe tomorrow.