LOOKIT

How PERFECT is this??? On sale at Fred Meyer today!

Also on sale, and conveniently, because that is EXACTLY what I stopped for:



Ask the Pope, we totally stopped for Milk Duds!!!

10 am

I wake up at 10am regularly now (on the weekends).

If my life were a movie, this time would be a portentous sign that something truly awful had happened at this time, and only I can find out what it was.  

But alas, the only ominous thing about 10 am appears to be that it is time to pee and I need to eat something.  

In other news, I'm dreaming again.  I haven't been dreaming since I found out I was pregnant.  I'll spare you the details of my dream, but suffice it to say that if I ever find myself with my closest friends in a sex club/casino, I will feel a strong sense of deja vu.  Oh, and I will know exactly what promotional material from Lindsay Lohan's early career will make great collectors items.  

I bought a toaster yesterday.  It has been approximately 5 years since I have had one.  I'm serious!  You can ask SK and CLP, who made toast for 7 using a baking sheet in the oven!!!   I finally got tired of flipping bread and standing by the oven while it broiled.  I bought it yesterday and today, I have toasted and it is everything I remembered and more.  Watch my bread intake skyrocket and remind me why I haven't had one in years.

We have located many many areas that were peed on by the errant cat.  We discovered who it was, too.   A feral boy in the neighborhood apparently decreed that this was his house, came in through cat door one work day and sprayed several places in every room.  You can mostly find them by scooting along like a bloodhound and sniffing corners, or objects with corners.  We are enzyming them as we see them, to eradicate the smell.  Even outside, where he marked the actual house.  Hoo.   I tell you, if I get my hands on him, I'm going to ensure that little fucker never pees again.   If you know what I mean.   

This spring we have experienced a weed explosion the likes of which I've never seen.  Every spring dawns anew with weeds, but this year it is exponentially worse.  I think back on our first year here and how I wanted natural remedies to everything.....because mah kitties were going to be outside and I needed to protect their delicateness!!  Mah babies!  

This year I am so tired and there are so many more that I find myself online looking for residential-grade napalm.   I bought concentrated Round-Up and mixed it in a deck sprayer and sprayed areas vigorously.  I don't even care if PLANTS DIE, because I get tired of them, mostly, after I plant them.  I should be a landscape designer, because I love to select and plant them, and then wait one year to their next active stage (i.e. flowering) and then ......I'm done.  Ready to change it about.  

Tired

I'm very tired.  

Not tired enough to get off the couch where I obsessively watch episodes of Bridezilla (who ARE these people who act like this?  I fear Middle America will eat itself) or Jon & Kate Plus 8.  I now know all the kids by sight, or voice.  I think they're adorable.  Cara, Leah and Aaden are my favorites.  

I'm too tired to do anything at work.  Or is it ennui?  Probably a serious case of pregnancy ennui with regards to work.  I'm having a baby, so I don't care that the locker rooms are out of towels or that you lost your third quarter in a row in the tampon dispensers and now you are so pissed that you are going to send me a snotty email, railing about a building that has the temerity to charge 25 cents for low-quality tampons that should be free.  Hey, try remembering to carry some in your purse!  That's what I would do.  

And let me let you in on a tiiiiiiny secret.  The building is made of concrete and steel.  It doesn't think, it doesn't feel, and it doesn't go out of its way to make your existence miserable.  But I do, so be careful about the tone of the emails you send to me.  

Well, we had some banner weather in Seattle over the weekend.  88 degrees on Saturday!  Woo!  No air-conditioning and a resident who hates all noise and general sounds of other people's joy....not so woo.  

I had to walk to pick up the ever-failing car.  It was probably just under a mile from our house, mostly downhill.  I stepped outside the house and immediately had to pee.  I went back into the house, peed and then retraced my steps.  I got about halfway out of our street before I had to pee again.  Sure it was just the phantom pregnancy urge, I kept walking.  I was almost in tears by the time I got to the auto-dealership, every step threatened to force me onto the side of the road with a small weed for privacy and a couple of poison-ivy leaves as toilet paper.  

I have now been stone sober for over two months.  I have just one thing to say:  it is seriously overrated.  

URGENT LETTER

DEAR GODDAMNED CATS:

Now is NOT the time to start marking the bedspread and bedskirt.

And somewhere in the living room, although we do not know exactly where.

For fuck's sake, we ARE TRYING TO SELL THE HOUSE!  

Urine in the proper place is appreciated during this important time.

I swear to God, when I find out who is doing this, I am going to take you into the backyard and pee all over you.  

YOU THINK I WON'T?

Mom

Letters Letters Letters

Dear People Who Are Looking At Our House,

Buy our house.  Please?  Please buy our house. 

All the neighbors are being quiet.  Nice of them.  Of course, I'll egg their house if they aren't, but in general, everyone is behaving themselves.  Like they do, you know, until you buy the house, move in and find that they blast their oldies rock station over the sound their lawnmower and/or bitch at you the first day you're moving in because you parked in front of the mailbox.  Because the moving truck was in your driveway.  And it was a Sunday.  And you're right that I could block the mailman.  Who delivers on a Sunday.  In an alternate universe. Take a chill pill, Terry, fergodsake.  

Anyhoo, where were we?  Oh Yes!  Buy our house.  Please?  Please buy our house.

I am Tired of Making the Bed,

Salome

Dear Constipation,

Ohhh my gosh you are killing me.  KILLING ME.  You will be the death of me.  In a relatively easy early pregnancy, the fact that I cannot go to the bathroom is making me want to lie down on the floor and cry.  Metamucil (tastes like Tang!) doesn't seem to work.  The Feast, which I once memorably blogged about, also doesn't work.  Nothing works.  I've been warned not to strain, for fear of the grapes, but it is hard not to!  When you finally lose your patience after 5 straight days of ABSOLUTELY NO ACTION HAPPENING and you feel like you've eaten two beachballs for dinner when in reality you ate the spiciest thing you could find in the hopes of manufacturing Montezuma's revenge, sometimes you have to just sit there and strain and make all kinds of Cinemax noises and finally pass something that looks like an inch of concrete.   And it makes your whole day.

Chronically Over-sharing,

Salome

Dear Library Books,

Please take yourselves back, you weren't any good.

Disdainfully,

Salome