You should write funny

So, apparently my last post was relatively funny, and I should try to write more like that. And I would love to, because that's popular and the one thing I've wanted my entire life, and always fallen short of, was to be liked. But it's just not me.

I had this great post in mind about tonight's dinner. On black Friday we, Steve and I, went to Costco because Friday is Costco day, I'm slightly obsessive compulsive, and we were out of food after the chaos of Thanksgiving. As we walked in, some guy was offering free cook books. I declined out of habit, but Steve heard "free cook book" and forced me to get one. We tried one of the recipes tonight. I seriously hope the others are better. Macadamia Crusted Chicken was a bust. My punchline was "it needs something to make the nuts stick."

The thing is: depression isn't funny. I don't care how many comedians have depression, it ends in situations like Robin Williams- the self imposed death of the funniest people around. Yeah, a funny thing happened today. Alongside of countless slit-my-throat-I-can't-deal-with-this things.

I have a failing small business.

I have a rental home that I hate and no prospects on a real home.

I have a panic attack every time the phone rings because it's probably the school telling me what else is wrong with my son.

I hate getting the mail because it's always more bills we can't pay.

This is why my funny is broken.

This is why when people ask me to donate, I just can't. I can't even work up the energy anymore to point out that all of the "homeless" on the street that I've seen begging for spare change have better clothes and better hair cuts than I do.

This is why that one moment of levity in the day is lost. Because it's buried in life.

What do animals have against sleep?

This morning, driving my son to school, I was slightly afraid that he was going to die from lack of oxygen because he was laughing so hard he couldn't breath properly. All because he asked me how my sleep was last night.

"Last night? Last night's sleep was fine," I replied. "It was this morning that was a bit of an issue."

I woke up around 6:30am, about an hour before I normally do, and had to use the restroom. So, I scampered off to do my business, happy to crawl back under the covers for another hour. Except as soon as I lay back down, my husband rolled over in his sleep, half on top of me, and began a dream where I assumed he was running away from a vicious hoard of zombies intent on feasting on his brain. I wasn't sure if I should wake him, grab a weapon, or call an exorcist.

As I was wrestling with the decision of what to do, I heard the cat loudly sharpening her claws on her scratchy post in the living room. The cat is far over due to have her claws trimmed, and the idea of her sharpening those already razor sharp sickles filled me with dread for the next time she decides to play KILL THE HAND! with my hand. Then, there was a split second of silence before the sound of a herd of elephants went tearing up the stairs. DUH-DUM DUH-DUM DUH-DUM DUH-DUM! The herd of elephants, of course, was only the cat pretending she's a saber tooth tiger chasing a mammoth up the icy steppes. Then the mammoth turned and chased her down the stairs. DUM-DUH DUM-DUH DUM-DUH DUM-DUH! Then she ran around the living room and kitchen for a bit, making the little bell on her collar scream in panic. JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE JINGLE! Before once again tearing up the stairs after her imaginary prey. DUH-DUM DUH-DUM DUH-DUM DUH-DUM!

All her crashing about alerted Zack, the big dog, to the mammoths that had invaded our house, and he had to see if he could be of assistance to the intrepid huntress. He padded around the room a few times, then headed out into the living room.

Zack typically sleeps on a bean bag, and Toby, the other dog, sleeps in a dog bed. However, when Zack left to aide in the mammoth hunt, Toby decided the bean bag would be much more comfortable. Which resulted in a five minute beat down of the bean bag to make it conform to Toby's shape. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH!

All the while, my husband was running from the hoard.

Then, around 7am, I heard my son fall out of bed upstairs- his customary way of waking up. Followed by the footsteps of Zack heading up the stairs to say good morning. And soon after, Zack coming back down the stairs and into my room. Where he sat by my side of the bed, and stared at me. This is pretty standard as he is not allowed on the bed until 7:20am, so he sits, stares, and occasionally licks my hand if it escapes from the covers to try to convince me to let him in bed a little early.

On the dot, Zack jumped up into bed, and I had a crunchy stuffed armadillo dog toy touching my nose. Eeeww. So I took it away from him and dropped it on the floor. I then opened my eyes and realized I was staring directly into two dark dog nostrils. His breath puffing on my face. And then he let out a great big dog yawn. I thought he was going to eat my face! That dog does the loudest yawns I have ever heard! AAARRRR-OOOOPP!

Following his gigantic eat-your-face-yawn, Zack did a massive flop into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. He then began shuffling towards my face, slowly getting closer and closer. Once he got into position, he stretched himself across my chest so he could give Steve a great big doggy good morning kiss- much to Steve's dismay.

"What was Toby doing?" my son asked between peels of laughter.

Toby was in his customary morning spot- Steve's pillow- cleaning himself loudly. SLURP SLURP!

It wasn't long after that we gave up and got up for the day.

Needless to say, it was a rather interesting morning wake-up call.

The sadness has me

Sometimes being a crafter is incredibly hard. Especially when I've been struggling to make it my full time job and actually use my skills in the hope of adding to the home income for a change, but not actually selling anything, and then tripping over another crafter's page who is considered to be in the same department as I am but when I look at what they've made I realize that I made similar things when I was 7 years old during school holidays and I've grown way beyond that, but then I notice that everything on their site is sold.

Sorry for the run on sentence, but damn! I just don't understand. I really wish someone could explain to me, in small words, what I'm supposed to do to get this business going. I'm so confused as to how people who make low quality products and charge 4 times as much as I do can make their businesses flourish while I'm on the edge of failure. What am I doing wrong this time?

It's frustrating. I don't think I'll ever understand it.

Holidays are hard

Ugh. I hate the lead up to holidays. Don't get me wrong, I love the lights, and watching the movies, and hearing the "peace on Earth" songs, and eggnog.... mmmm.... eggnog... But there is so much to do! I feel like I've lost my mind and just can't keep up with everything on my ever growing list of to do's.

Luckily, one of the blogs that I follow religiously (literally since she's created a religion for her tribe of misfits)  had the most amazing news today. According to The Bloggess, if you google your name and "meme" and look at the images, hilarity ensues. Now, normally when I do things of this caliber, I am sorely disappointed. NOT TODAY!

Ok, that's a good start. I like that.

Nice, it's always nice to be heard.

Been there. Been there too many times.

I'll ignore the "ruff" vs. "rough" because I enjoy the sentiment so much. This is going strangely well.

Ah. Um. Thanks? Kinda creepy, but I guess that's sweet.

That turned quite suddenly, didn't it?

Huh?

I don't even know what that means. Is that English?

I can assure you I am not a transsexual. And if I were, it would be much more Rocky Horror than this implies.

Seriously? And no. Trust me, when I ruin your life it's not just a stupid face moment. It's blood and guts, asshole.

What the hell? Actually, there was a whole stack of memes along these lines. I believe there are some Jades out there who are abusing the privilege.

See? This doesn't even have my name in it!

"Their."

This has a real "Hodor" feel to it. I think we'll leave it there.

So, if you need a giggle, go google your name and meme.

P.S. I just googled "Steve meme" but I didn't like any of them, so here's the one I made a while back. You're welcome.

Right back where we started

My son was escorted out to the car today by his teacher. Yes, I felt like driving away as fast as I could before they could reach me.

We've been having a lot of difficulties lately, and yes, it's mostly my fault.

He's been taking risperdal since he was 5150'd and dragged off to a mental institution in the back of a cop car 2 years ago. We were so desperate for help that I didn't question the drug very much. That is, until he gained so much weight that I barely recognized him, became lazy, and honestly, it wasn't really helping the behavior very much. But no one would listen to me. I complained to more doctors than I care to admit to, begged for help, and usually left their offices in tears because no one would take my concerns seriously.

So I weaned him off the drug. It took several months of slowly lowering the dosage, but he's been off it for a few weeks. He's still taking prozac, though. But the calls from school are increasing. I don't know if it's because he was in a school that was little better than a mental institution and now he's in mainstream, or if it's because the medication was helping after all.

I started looking online for other medications, and I think I found one that I feel comfortable trying. I'm pissed that no one told me, or was aware, that risperdal should NOT be taken with prozac. It's one of the major drug interactions that the company warns against. Things like that are supposed to be caught by doctors, nurses, and pharmacists. Not one. Not one person cared enough to protect my little boy, and I failed to hold them accountable.

I'm so very tired. I don't want to fight anymore. It's just a loosing battle. Even when I know where the attack is coming from, I'm completely helpless against the onslaught.

Tis the season to go completely insane?

The last few days have been a whirl wind. Steve has taken every Friday off until the end of the year, and we're using that time to get some stuff done.

This Friday was a trip to Pedernales Falls. It was gorgeous. But we've had a lot of rain this week, so all the trails have been washed away. We weren't the only ones struggling to find our way back to the car park. One of Steve's photos.

Gorgeous.

And then on Saturday we went to the Austin Zoo. I don't have photos because we forgot the camera.

Now, here's the thing. I grew up in San Diego. I don't remember a time that my family didn't belong to the San Diego Zoo. My first job out of high school was working retail at the San Diego Zoo. A yearly membership for the Austin Zoo is the same cost of a single visit to the San Diego Zoo. San Diego, it takes upwards of 10 hours to see everything. And even then, you're probably going to miss out on a bunch. Austin? We spent 2 hours there, saw everything, and it probably took us a bit longer because I was giving the goats a scratch.

Funny thing is, I kind of liked the smaller zoo.

All of the animals in Austin are rescues. They're not leading any research or breeding the next generation, they're giving animals who had a pretty crappy start to life somewhere comfortable to live. It was sad seeing some of them. The male lion rescued from a junkyard in Alabama who was neutered so never grew a mane. The black leopard who... I don't know, but he couldn't walk very well. The capuchin who lost it's tail somehow. The entire pack of wolf hybrids, and the ones rejected by the pack, because people think having a "wolf" would be cool. Not to mention all the parrots from people that simply couldn't look after them anymore. And the lizards and snakes abandoned.

Ahh, I want a zoo.

There's a place I used to frequent in New Zealand called Staglands. Basically, a huge petting zoo. I would love to have something like that. Surrounded by animals? Giving needy animals a good home? Yes please!

At the moment, though, I'm still concerned with making this arts and crafts business work. Insert heavy sigh here. The problem is, every time we do one of these markets, we're lucky to break even on the cost of the market. And since we're so close to cost on each item, we're loosing money. But that doesn't stop people from being incredibly rude and insulting.

At the zoo yesterday, they had very simple, 3 inch dream catchers for sale for $17. I sell similar for $8. Handmade. I have the same size, but double dream catchers for $12. And then my other dream catchers, roughly twice the size, double, and it doesn't seem to matter what price I put on them, people want them for less. It's insulting.

That and the woman who insulted my sculpting ability. You think you can do better? Please show me.

Anyway, we're looking at putting more effort into the website and backing off some of these shows. (Honestly, the last one was $55 and we were lucky to make that much, the next one we were looking at is $200. I don't think so.) But that means that I need to learn how to list things, and update certain areas. Steve's going to try to teach me.

Again.

This is not the first time.

The trouble is that it's far beyond how I think, and Steve's not a great teacher. He gets things far too quickly, and after he understands it, he thinks about it even faster still. But he cannot slow his mind down enough to actually explain. My mind works much slower, which is one of the reasons I've always been a decent trainer. That, and I actually expect that people are not going to grasp the concept the first time. Steve figures once is as good as a hundred times.

So I downloaded the software he told me to. This is the message: Notepad++ v6.6.9 new feature and bug fixes:

1.  Fix comment command bug that the comment symbols isn't set on the first column for Fortran.
2.  Add python parson for function List.
3.  Make icons' background colour transparent for functionList and projectManager.
4.  New feature: Apply new file default settings on created new file (opened via command line).
5.  Fix colour picker' chooser bug which does not work well.


Included plugins:

1.  DSpellCheck v1.2.12
2.  NppFTP 0.24.1
3.  NppExport v0.2.8
4.  Plugin Manager 1.0.8
5.  Converter 3.0
6.  Mime Tool 1.9

When you can't even read the the "welcome" message, you know it's going to be a battle.

MIA

So, it's been a while since I posted. I've basically been going insane.

We had our second craft show over the weekend. We were planning to go back to Wimberley, but found a different show, closer to home, on the same day, so we did that one instead. With the same barely breaking even outcome.

We're seriously starting to question the sanity of this.

The problem is that it's really expensive to join these fairs. Wimberley is $75 a day! And people want what we make at below cost of making them, which would mean losing even more money than we're currently losing, which really defeats the whole purpose of a business.

Case in point: I make these double dream catchers that are pretty darned cool, if I do say so myself, and I've never seen any like them anywhere else. The cost to me of making them is around $20 for materials, plus the callouses and blisters that comes with doing crafts. These are one of a kind, hand made, unique pieces. Last month, there was lots of interest, but the $36 price tag put a lot of people off. So this time I tried it at $28, basically losing money after factoring in all the incidentals of craft marketing, and people still wanted them for less. In fact, one woman was a little insulting about it. So you know what? Next month, it's back up to $36.

If there is a next month.

I just don't know what to do. This is isn't working, just like everything else. The fates have apparently decided that I don't get to earn a living anymore. I'm so tired of the "you're not what we're looking for" response form letters from applying for jobs. I'm tired of spending money trying to make something work only to end up further in debt. I'm tired of rude people who are completely incapable of realizing that times are hard and I'm running out of options. I'm just tired.

I need something good to happen soon, but I don't think it will. Good things happen to other people. I just hope this wave of failure stops soon.

Loosing the war

I try very hard not to get irritated when people around me are overly critical. I'm sure their hearts are in the right place, but it happens way too often. It seriously makes me wonder if I'm that big of a fuck up, or if people in our society really do think that unsolicited advice is welcome.

In other news, it's been rainy here for the last 2 days, and we're enjoying it. The weather is cool, which is a great change from the mind numbing heat of the summer. I'm still a little nervous about what winter will be like here. Everything we read said the winters are mild, but then everything we read claimed the cost of living was so much less here. People lie.

For now, though, we're enjoying the cool rainy days. Although, I can't speak for the animals.

Yesterday, it was raining hard enough that we didn't take the dogs for a walk. We also missed going for a walk on Friday because my foot has been giving me a lot of issues lately (probably because of this cool rainy spell, but whatever). So this morning when we took them for a walk, they went nuts! Sorry, Zack went nuts. He's a very high energy dog; doberman and huntaway- a NZ sheep dog bred to herd the flocks up and down the mountains all day- are the most recognizable breeds in him. We learned early on that he's next to impossible to wear out.

But he also doesn't like rain.

He loves water! Pond, river, ocean, puddle? He's in it! He hasn't been in a pool yet, but that's because he hasn't had the opportunity. But rain? That's a whole pile of nope. So when he went running out back yesterday morning for his early morning patrol of the yard, the breaks went on so fast he almost sat down as he hit the edge of the covered patio and realized that it was raining. Toby just stood on the patio looking confused.

The weird thing is- Zack is from New Zealand! He's never liked rain though. Whole months of his life were spent huddling inside until the need to pee forced him out in the weather where he'd do his business as fast as possible and run back inside to be toweled off. Of course, going for walks in the rain weren't so much of an issue. We've got a seriously heavy duty rain coat for him, and he actually enjoys wearing it. We don't have one for Toby yet since in two years living in California we got a sum total of 5 inches of rain. And I think that was over 3 days. It looks like we may have to get Toby a rain coat now, though.

And then there's the cat.

In New Zealand, she had a fun little game where she would go out her cat door at the front of the house, circle around the house, sit at the back door and meow pitifully so that I would let her in and towel her off. As soon as I put her down, she would make a bee line for the cat door, and do it all over again. Usually, she would do three times before I threatened not to dry her off the next time (an empty threat, but still), and she would find a warm spot to curl up and take a nap.

She's forgotten how to deal with the rain. In California, we couldn't let her out of the house. Now, however, she enjoys her mornings in the yard hunting bugs and lizards (she has eaten so many lizards!). The last two mornings, she has sat on the edge of the patio staring at the rain with pure hatred. This morning she turned the accusation on Steve. "Why?" she seemed to ask. "We lived for two years in a place it never rained, and you lock me inside. We move here, where it rains, you let me out. Sadistic bastards." She seems to enjoy the lizards, though.

Cute, right?

Steve and I have been busy, organizing mostly. But I also carved out enough time to finish my Halloween project I started a few weeks ago. I got inspiration from an online project: mason jar ghosts.

But, in my typical style, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't do the mason jar thing. I had to make it mine.

I'm not happy with the ghost, but
I love everything else. 

I think I inhaled some of the moss, and now I can't stop coughing. Nasty. Looking at that mason jar ghost, I think I need to get some of those little pumpkins to use around the house. I love those things.

Steve's put a kibosh on buying more Halloween decorations this year because we don't have enough room to store the stuff we already have. Which is a valid point, but I really love the 5 foot tall skeletons at Costco. He's promised me next year I can get a life sized skeleton.

I'm going to push for a 6 footer.

Yet more reasons why I'm against so called "higher education"

I'm sure that college used to be a great place before it turned into greedy, power hungry corporations taking advantage of people. 

My step-daughter is enrolled in UTI's mechanic program in California. They made a lot of lofty promises when she applied, they've broken just about every single one of those promises so far. 

They have a program to help students find work. Every time she's sent for an interview, the position has already been filled. The school said that if they couldn't find her work, they would employ her in the office on campus. It's been 4 months, she still doesn't have a job, what happened to the office work she was promised?

But now there's a new housing coordinator. She is a beast. First, she showed up at the girl's door and said they had 24 hours to move. In the middle of the week, middle of the term, no explanation given. My step-daughter is not a shrieking violet, so she complained to the director that it was totally unreasonable to give them 24 hours to move out and not provide them with alternate housing, as they are required to do. They were then given a week. 

Then, this week they're served with an eviction notice- 3 days to pay or get out and face legal proceedings on top. So I finally called housing services. The person I talked to at corporate assured me that it was a notice to pay, not that she would face eviction, and was quite surprised when I read the part that says if it's not paid within 3 days, she must leave the house and they will take her to court. Apparently they're not supposed to get that notice until after 20 days of non payment- not 8. 

I'm trying to find out how to lay a formal complaint on this woman. How dare she treat anyone this way, but especially teenagers who are just starting out! My step-daughter is really enjoying working with the cars, and I don't know if some of the other campuses are better organized, but certainly I have been less than impressed with the California campus. I'm so tired of being lied to. Don't promise assistance if you are unable to provide the assistance you promise! 

Icy hand

I can feel it. Creeping in, darkening the world. Making me feel like I can't stay awake, and not sure why I should even bother to try.

There's a bad bout of depression looming over me.

I think the thing is, it makes me so tired and so run down by life that I don't have the energy to fight it. It sucks all my will to get things done and be active right out the window and I just don't care. I just need to sleep. And it's a fight that no one can fight for me. Whenever someone, aka Steve, tries it either comes across as lies- "But you're so great at that!"- or bullying- "You can't take a nap. Get up!" Yes, there are things I want to do, but I can't. I simply cannot will myself to give a fuck.

Things that usually piss me off grate a whole hell of a lot more, too. People's ability, or more to the point their lack of ability to drive makes me cringe on a good day. Lately, it's sent into an absolute rage. Like a take a baseball bat to their windshield type of rage. And no, I haven't done that and I won't, but fantasizing about it is inevitable.

Normally, I'm upset that we live in the cruddiest little rental house and simply don't have the space to do the things we want to do. Everything is broken or falling apart, but the landlord and handyman don't seem to care. I feel like we're living in little better than a slum. Now the housing prices are going up again, and I don't feel like we'll ever get our own place again. I think it's one of the sharpest thorns in my side because we had it once. In New Zealand, we had our house. It wasn't perfect, but it was damn close, and we were making it better. It had our space, and we had a community where we belonged. I kick myself every day for giving in and giving it all up. Especially now that it keeps looking more and more like we'll never get even a fraction of it back.

I don't know. Maybe a miracle will happen. They don't happen to me, but maybe to Steve. Or maybe we'll die here in this horrible slum rental. Destitute and alone in an area that couldn't care less.

Selling stuff

Despite convincing myself that there was no way we'd be ready, Batty4Arts made our debut at the market on Saturday. We weren't 100% ready, but we were close enough. It could've gone better, but it also could've been much worse. All in all, we were slightly more than even at the end of the day. Best part: we have a much better idea of what may be successful at future markets.

So now I have a month to make some more, smaller, items. At least I have a direction. And despite loosing two days (so far) after the market from pure exhaustion, I think next month will be significantly easier. That's my hope anyway.

I was afraid that my son would be a complete nightmare sitting at the booth for 9 hours without much for him to do, but he actually enjoyed it. He kept saying how surprised he was at what a good time it was and that "it's actually fun hanging out with you guys" (meaning Steve and I). Yeah, funny that.

Being a parent sometimes sucks

I think my son must have had a hormone surge recently because he's become unbearable. In the last week or so, he's taken being an aggravating little shit-head from an amateur hobby to professional level. He's 11 years old, so it's about the right time for him to get a hormone surge, but ACK! I'll be lucky to live through it!

This morning we were running a bit late so I said I'd sign his planner in the car when we got to school. He refused to think that maybe that meant I wanted him to get his planner out on the way to school, not before he got in the car, not shoving his backpack in the back seat and getting it out after we got to school, but sitting down, strapping in, and getting his planner out while we drove. And no, I'm not finding the page and signing it WHILE I'M DRIVING THROUGH A SCHOOL ZONE!

Then started the fight that I'm still, 6 hours later, a little bit pissy over. I asked him to turn to last Friday, the day I had to sign off, so that when we got to school it would be easy to sign. He screamed at me that he didn't know what today was. October? So he turns to the monthly calendar for October, which, of course, has today blank because it's September 29. So he starts raving that today doesn't exist so he doesn't have to do anything. ACK!

We have gone over and over and over how to use his planner. Turn down the corners of the pages at the end of the week to make it easy to find the week we're in. Does he listen? Does he pay attention? Does he attempt to put any modicum of effort to anything he ever does? No, of course not! It's all too freaking hard!

Eventually, he got to the right page, and low and behold, there's a note that he's supposed to have a binder with brads today. He does not have a binder with brads today. Who's fault is it? MINE! It's all my fault because I'm a horrible mother and I don't love him.

Then, he puts his bloody planner back in his bag. We're still driving to school! I haven't signed the stupid thing! So I tell him to get it back out, open to the correct page, and hold it! He starts at the back of the book, in July, flipping one page at a time.

"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Looking for October," seriously, I would really appreciate a lot less attitude.
"Remember what I just said about the folded down pages?" I didn't even bother to remind him that it's still September. But we're finally parked in front of the school, so I take his planner and show him what I mean by turning to the first page without a folded down corner- again. I would put money on him still not "being able" to do it.

One good thing this morning: a lot of people in our neighborhood decorated for Halloween this weekend. I'm not allowed to start until the first- well, start in earnest. Steve doesn't seem to mind a few skulls and ghosts creeping into our lounge decor.

Spitting tacs

I'm deleting this post. Not that I feel I'm off base, but because there's no point in fighting a broken system. Our world is so fucked, I don't think we can fix it. I'm not sure I'd want to at this point. People suck.

My Monkeys

There’s a saying that I really like: “Not my monkeys, not my circus.” Except that, at the moment, they are my monkeys. My stupid, retarded, fugly monkeys. And this is my circus. My circus that no one wants to come to because it sucks. I'm pretty sure the clowns are doing drugs behind the elephant tent, and the bearded lady keeps shaving. 

This weekend I kept getting very frustrated for all the usual reasons. Last week was pretty much shit better to forget, and today hasn't been very nice to me either. People seem to find it necessary to remind me what a horrible person I am. I might be able to cope with that if it wasn't quite so many people all at once. 

It’s also become apparent that we’re not going to be ready for the market in 2 weeks, which means my deal is off. My deal was that if we could do the market for October, November, and December, and we didn’t make a profit I’d start applying for a real job again. Since we’re apparently not going to be ready, I can’t really hold off the inevitable anymore. 

I also came to a sobering reality: no one has ever been interested in anything I’ve ever done. Steve spent Saturday working on the website, and I suddenly realized how many things I’ve made over the years that no one is interested in. I may get a passing glance or a pity comment, but no one is buying. No one gives two fucks. So regardless of if we could be part of the market, the reality is that my stuff, at least, will never generate profit. And yes, that’s incredibly depressing because I just can’t help but fail- which sucks big time. But if I can somehow live with that and stop this stupid nonsense that I am anything but a grey person, maybe I can finally find some peace.

You see, through all this depression and failure, there’s always been this burning, albeit fragile, flame in me that says I’m more than just another blob on the Earth. There’s something special that I can share with the world. The thing is, there really isn’t. I’m ok at some things, but I’m not great at anything. I don’t inspire people, and no one even notices when I’m not around. 

And sometimes it really sucks to have a husband who believes my dreams despite all evidence to the contrary. 

Just when I thought I could be ok with being just another grey blob, having a job that I hate like everyone else, he gets me talking about all the things that I could do if we lived in a perfect world where I could actually succeed at things. Which would be great if I wasn't trying to forget all the things I want to do, and just do the things I'm supposed to do.

Today I had a few people ask about Batty4Arts. One even wrote the web address down, so I guess that's cool. I just don't know how to deal with anything right now. Personally, I just want to crawl in bed and order take out until I forget who I am and who others think I am. 

And yet more UGH

Steve and I have started putting more effort into our arts and crafts business, Batty 4 Arts. There's a local market here that runs the first Saturday of the month, and we really wanted to be involved in it. We've known for a while that it's something we wanted to work towards, so we've been working on stock as well as filing for a license and tax permits, and all the other bull shit that goes along with living in a country so overrun by bureaucracy that you can't even tie your own shoe without first filing the proper forms. 

I had a sudden realization this morning that the next market day, which was our goal to be involved in, is 2 weeks away! In 2 weeks from today, we should be sitting in the market selling our creations, talking to people, and handing out information about us. 

I don't think it's going to happen. 

Honestly, it probably could. Yeah, our business cards are outdated, we don't really have a sign, and we have limited display items. Still, we could probably scrape by. Yes, we don't have any tables or a cash box/register, but we could probably have those items in time. 

The nail in the coffin is that we can't accept cards. We have some fairly big ticket items and people just don't carry cash anymore. I tried to get one of those card readers from Paypal, open our business account through them, but they required a copy of my social security card. Social security administration are a bunch of power hungry wankers who can't do their job properly so they take it out on the general public. I legally changed my name while living in New Zealand. I have the legal name change forms. My driver's license has my new name. My US passport has my new name! When I went to social security to update my card, they claimed to be homeland security, threatened to confiscate my passport and have me arrested for fraud. What!?! 

So, of course, my name on my social security card is different from every other form of id I have. Wouldn't be a problem if this country wasn't so fascinated with a dead form of societal control. Anyway, Paypal's black listed me until I can provide every scrap of information they can think of. I'm surprised they don't ask for a blood sample.  

Why is everything so hard? I truly do believe that someone put a curse on me, or maybe this is punishment for something I did in a past life. I've never heard of anyone else ever having these many complications in every aspect of their life. 

Sometimes it's very hard to not give up. 

Too much

I'm not a stupid person, at least not in the ways most cultures define stupid. I received good grades and took challenging classes throughout school. I've had difficult jobs yet performed them well. I usually rank fairly high in most IQ quizzes and tests. I'm usually fairly quick to grasp new concepts and skills and to build and expand that knowledge. I have a deeply innate awareness of my own body and it's needs. I'm well connected to the environment around me, and I'm decent at working with other people.

So why can I not do this whole business thing?!?

This is going to sound mean, but there are some pretty dumb people in business for themselves. How the hell did they manage to fight their way through the red tape and road hazards just to establish a business, let alone cope with the rampant bureaucracy to keep that business financially viable and productive. Dealing with the very edges of it has taken 2 full days! And we're not even done yet! At each step there are new and more depressing pit falls, bumps, wrong information, and humiliation galore. And when you think you've finished hacking through the forests of bullshit and managed to finish one step bringing you closer to your end goal, you discover that the step you just completed added three more steps to your list of shit-that-may-actually-kill-me-but-has-to-get-done.

So I thought, "Do most people hire someone that is masochistic enough to make this their life's work?" And maybe, but it would cost thousands! We simply cannot take that route. So we're left to muddle through, hoping against hope that we're doing it right.

Hoping against hope that this doesn't destroy whatever is left of my sanity.

At least I'm not screaming

The other day we had quite a good rainstorm here. We really need the rain, and it finally broke the streak of hot weather. A month of every day being over 38C (100F) was getting old to say the least. But this house was designed by someone unfamiliar with the area and/or didn't grasp the concept of weather prevention and high energy costs. In plan language: when it rains here it's still wwarm enough to need the windows open, but windy enough to need something to stop the rain getting in the house.

As a result of the poor design of this house, we wound up closing some windows so that we didn't wind up with water damage on everything.

Side note: did you know that sash windows are evil dangerous things out to take revenge on the human race?

Seriously, the last 2 houses we've rented have had sash windows. What is the fascination with these things? They don't ever work properly, they break easily, and they try to kill people! Abolish the sash windows!

So, I realized after the rain had moved on that the windows were still closed. I braced myself to open them because sometimes when I open them it feels more like I'm pushing myself into the ground rather than lifting a window. Heck, when I close them I have to put all my weight on them and I'm not a small person! I managed to open one without death and dismemberment, so I moved to the second.

As I lifted, my hand slipped. As my hand slipped I felt the pain of a nail breaking. I've always had long nails and when you have long nails, occasionally they break. Occasionally, when a nail breaks, it hurts for a bit. This time it was hurting quite badly. Sometimes they break down at the quick- where the nail is actually attached to the finger- and that really hurts, so I just sat on the couch and held my finger waiting for the pain to subside. I never actually looked at it, though.

Until Steve asked what happened. He was in the kitchen so I walked in, still holding my finger, still not looking, and made the big reveal, and then promptly feeling light headed and slightly nauseous. It had indeed broken past the quick. About half way down.

The worst part is, it didn't actually rip off. It only ripped about 3/4 of the way across. So every time it's touched, it feels like my finger is exploding. Typing is proving to be quite tricky at the moment, and this post is taking significantly longer to write than usual. At least today it's a bit better. I did the damage on Sunday evening, and yesterday every time the wind blew on my finger I would scream and throw up a little. At least today I only squeak when I hit it with a bit of force, but I'm not throwing up today.

Yesterday, Steve and I tried to cut the nail to stop it from catching on things. Bad idea. I finally just wrapped a bandaid around the stupid thing. Maybe in another day or so I'll try to trim the nail.

But right now, the act of typing this has made it really start to ache, so I think I'll go play a game to get my mind off my finger before I start to do some work. We now have the start of our business license! We still have to file in at least one, possibly 2 other counties, file for our Federal and State tax things, get some sort of permit thing for State tax, and probably a billion other things, but it's a start!

Edited: sorry for the typos. It's hard to type with this damn finger!

Plague

I was born in the 80's, and although I was young I remember the hope that was around during that decade. I remember the gloom of the 90's as it looked like the promise of the 80's economy boom was not going to last. And then September 11, 2001 happened and America broke. Everything that we were clinging so desperately to, remembering the greatness of our nation and people, was thrown away to the militarization of police, handing the TSA ultimate power, taking away every personal right that our ancestors fought and died to give us. We pissed it all away because we got scared. The nightmare made it onto our soil. We suddenly felt vulnerable and afraid, and it's much better to know who the bad guys are rather than just shadows in the night. But it doesn't work.

Because we are still afraid.

When I was a little girl, the teachers and my parents told me that if I ever got lost and afraid, I could always find a cop and they would help me. Now I have to tell my son to stay away from the cops, they won't help you.

When I was a little girl, I would ride my bike all afternoon in the summer and only had to be home when the streetlights came on. Now, my son doesn't play outside because he has to stay within my sight at all times.

When I was a little girl, both my parents worked full time, but we were able to fun things as a family on the weekends. Now, I can't even get a job interview much less a job. And when I did manage to find a retail job, it cost me more in gas than I made working!

We allowed businessmen and politicians and lawyers to break our country and our spirit because we were afraid. The terrorists attacks on that early fall day were horrific. It's something that those of us who lived through it will never forget. But the terrorists did not destroy America. We did.

Today, if you haven't noticed, has been very bad. For a few reasons, but the biggest of the moment is Sprint. If you are looking for a cellular phone, do NOT go to Sprint.

Last month we were threatened with disconnection because their internal system is not allocating the funds taken from our account to the proper place. They take the money, pocket it, and then claim we're overdue. The representative this morning even said that it was an internal error on their part, but then followed that by saying we'd have to pay the money a second time so they wouldn't report us to collections and disconnect service. Last night Steve was on the phone with them trying to explain the situation and the help desk person called him a liar and hung up on him. Today we were told that the billing statement does not actually reflect what's due and is just numbers on a page. And the money that we could see had gone out of the account didn't really exist anyway.

I have no idea what sort of drugs they give to the Sprint customer help employees, but they must be really strong!

So now, we're waiting for an attorney to call us back- and you know how I feel about attorneys. Steve has been so stressed today that he called out sick to work, and has been half asleep most of the afternoon. My body feels like it's been hit by a truck, and I'm not entirely sure I'm not going to throw up.

How does this keep happening to us? How do we keep getting caught up with these companies that are so evil? I'm feeling like this is punishment, but I'm not sure what we've done to deserve this. I just want it to go away.

Captain, she can't take much more!

Sigh.

Heavy sigh.

Heaviest sigh!

Have I ever told you how much I hate Mondays? How the weekly torment has made it it's sole mission to tear down every last barrier I've put up against the angst, anguish, and soul crushing bleakness that stares me in the face?

Yeah. So, it's Monday, and I'm just done. I'm actually too tired to be depressed about it right now. Maybe that's a good thing.

Last week I was feeling a moodiness, a slightly psychotic "KILL ANYTHING THAT MOVES!" -ness that is fairly typical that my lady-time is eminent. I have a few tell tale signs and that's one of the least enjoyable. And usually, sorry if this is TMI but this is a horrifically honest blog, usually I get the most ridiculously painful cramps for about 2 hours and then it eases off and I bleed out. Honestly, last month I actually soaked through- to the point of have to change my pants- an overnight pad in 2 hours. Yeah, let that sink in.

I've had pain so bad that I've actually thrown up. I've had times I had to call in sick to work because I couldn't stand up straight off the bathroom floor.

But when I practically went into seizure from the intensity of the pain last night- that was a first. It was just really inconvenient that it didn't finally let me go until sometime after 1am when I had to be up around 7am to get the boy to school.

And then I had a flat tire. Seriously. I haven't had a flat tire in nearly 12 years! And this morning! This morning when I was exhausted and still in a bit of uncomfortableness, a nail that could've taken out a rhino was lodged in my rear tire. Mother fucker.

It must've happened when we pulled into the garage on Saturday afternoon, went flat on Sunday, and made me scream Monday. Oh what fun. So I was 2 doors down the road when I stopped, and we walked home. I told Steve, and he went to put the spare on while I strapped the motorcycle helmet onto my son- we were going to take the scooter to school. Funny thing, my little 150cc scooter really needs to be run once a week to keep the battery alive. It's been about a month since it's been run because it's simply been too hot here in that time to go anywhere without a climate controlled cage environment. It took a while to get it running.

I only had to pull over once in the 2.5 miles to school to tell my son, in a sweet loving voice of course, to LEAN INTO THE BLOODY CORNERS BEFORE YOU KILL US BOTH! Actually, that's only what I was thinking. What I actually said probably was sweet and loving compared to that. I don't actually want him to be afraid of riding.

Actually, as most Mondays go, it wasn't so bad. I mean, that was a seriously crappy start and I'm still freaking exhausted. But, the tire repair was free- loving Discount Tires!- and they even put it back on and checked the other tires for me- for free- and were extremely nice about it. Groceries, although a chore still bound to send me to an asylum, was quiet today and not nearly as aggravating as usual. My son had homework this afternoon to be done before next Monday, and although we had a horrendous argument about the phrase, "When is it due?"- never did I think that would be considered a trick question- he's already slightly over halfway done of his own choosing. I wasn't even going to make him work on it today! And yet...

Steve's in meetings this evening, which I hate more than I can say, but 2 of the planned 3 have been cancelled, so I may even get some time on the couch with my husband this evening. I am dreading next week when he's away on business, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

So maybe all the bad of Monday got it out of it's system before 9am.

I'm not entirely convinced that's any better, but I'm not convinced it's any worse either.

And yes, I do realize I'm rambling. I'm just so very very tired.

My one thing for today: it is actually getting cooler. It's still hotter than dog's balls, and especially at night, but that cooler weather is trying to fight it's way through. Why is that a good thing? Because I miss sleeping under covers curled up with my husband. I love the weight of a heavy quilt and his arm around me. For the last few months, just his hand on my arm has created a pool of sweat that drips into the sheets making us itchy and uncomfortable. Soon, we'll actually be able to be close without the fear of heat induced heart attack or heat stroke. That's a very good thing.

The world has blue blue balls

This post has two working titles. I went with blue balls because I thought it would be less offensive than "Dr. Lecter's feast day."

Allow me to explain. I understand that we've had a lot of storms building to the south of us. Yesterday afternoon, we were convinced that the 3 storms converging on us would be spectacular! I was battening down the hatches because the wind was so strong, the sky was the blackest I've seen it in a long time, and the slightly metallic smell of rain was like a promise. It was exciting, and we really need the rain. So when the storm broke up after barely spitting on us, it was disappointing to say the least. And this keeps happening! It looks like we're finally going to get some weather, but it breaks up as soon as it hits the houses.

My theory is that it's a bit like when a man is excited but gets no relief. It builds pressure. So maybe all this build up to storms without the release of an actual storm has built up the barometric pressure and made people ruder than they normally would be.

Or maybe the world has just gotten that bad and people are assholes. Hence, Dr. Lecter would have a feast. I love the idea of Hannibal Lecter because he only killed rude people. How many times have you thrown up your hands in exasperation because rudeness isn't a crime so you are totally helpless in dealing with the impolite morons that make living harder than it needs to be.

Today has been a doozy, and it's not even lunch time! Women stopping their SUV's in the middle of the road, stopping traffic in both directions, to have a conversation. Truck driver pulling so far forward into the intersection that I couldn't see oncoming traffic to make a safe turn, but the truck behind me really didn't care and just wanted me to GO! Workers parking their shopping cart/trolley/buggy diagonally across the aisle, blocking anyone from moving anywhere, arguing with their coworker. Really? REALLY?? Ugh.

On the good side, there's a cemetery down the road from our house that's attached to a church. The church has their sign announcing what this week's sermon is in the front corner of the cemetery. This sometimes is amusing, but today's was so perfect I almost had to pull over I was laughing so hard. I think I may try to get a picture tomorrow. Today, presiding over the cemetery, the sign read: Responding to God's invitation.

Metaphorical clouds moving in

It's probably TMI, but I think I'm pmsing. I'm angry. Just angry and things have been too hard today.

Once again I looked at how to get a business license since we've said we were going to do it for the past 2 weekends but didn't. So, I opened the websites (honestly, why must you register a business in 7 different offices?), and stared at them hoping one of the English words would make sense. Then I got depressed that the only thing written there that is actual English is "contact a lawyer." Well, lawyers have always been scum sucking low life criminal demons whenever I've had the misfortune of needing to seek legal advice, and they've never helped me before so why would now be any different?

So then there was a 30 minute period of intermittently being angry at how our society has over complicated every aspect of life, and anger at myself for being so fucking stupid I can't even figure out the simplest of tasks.

Probably not the best of ideas to then follow that up with looking at the files Steve gave me that are apparently what our website is built from. I tried to open one and it just said, "No, you can't do that." Yes, computer file, you are so right. I cannot fathom how to update a website. People keep telling me how insanely easy it is, "It's just dragging and dropping or copying the files across.  Anyone can do it!" Huh, anyone but idiots apparently. 'Cause I don't get it.

That was followed by another 30 minutes of berating everything in our society, but most especially myself.

Onto something I can do because I've been doing it a lot: braiding. Yes, that fun little thing we used to do as little girls has become the only thing I'm any good at. Except I got to the end of the necklace I was making for Steve, my hand cramping, my wrist swollen, only to discover that I fucked that up, too. I had to dismantle the whole thing, and I'll have to try again. Not tonight, though, my wrist is in a lot of pain.

Then I spent the entire ride home from picking my son up from school trying to get him to answer a simple question: "Have they given you your school planner yet?" I didn't think it was a complicated or trick question, but apparently to him it's the equivalent of asking him to explain string theory!

Oh, but he's not in art anymore. He's now doing theater. He doesn't know why, they didn't say, just is. I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with my email to the art teacher yesterday. I found a piece of paper from her saying that if any parents would like to share their artistic knowledge with the class, she wants to know because she loves to "[expose the students] to many different artists' styles and passions through special guest visitors." I don't believe in coincidence, so it sucks. Big time.

I don't have a one thing today. I'm tired, I'm hurting, and I'm pissed off. I'm going to enjoy my Laproaig and watch people get hurt on World's Dumbest before dinner.

End of Summer

Today is Labor Day here in the US. A day for sales and bbq's. Growing up in Southern California, it was also the traditional end of the summer tourist season, so it's become synonymous (for me anyway) with the end of summer.

I had to look up what Labor Day actually is, or was when it began. According to Wikipedia it is "a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of their country." Well, I guess that explains why it no longer really has that feel to it since most workers feel and are treated like little more than slaves. But that's not what I want to talk about today. 

I'm really looking forward to cooler weather. We moved to central Texas from southern California this summer, and I'm tired of being too hot to think. As a child, fall was always my favorite season, even though a southern California fall is not really fall-ish in the sense of any of the decorations or movies. The leaves don't really change color, the days are still clear blue skies, and the clothing is still shorts and t-shirts. But you can go outside without baking alive, and sometimes a sweater in the evening can feel nice. 

Now, however, Labor Day, the end of summer, breaks my emotions. I'm elated about the promise of cooler weather, but heartbroken over another summer that didn't live up to expectations. 

See, living in New Zealand, the winters were gray, wet, and bitterly cold. You looked forward to summer (which wasn't actually hot in the since that it is here), and relished every moment of the warmth because you knew it wouldn't last long. Summer in New Zealand also coincides with Christmas, and the entire country all but shuts down for the month of January. The only option that makes any sense at all is to spend your days at the beach and the evenings bbqing and playing with friends and family. Here, every house is closed up tighter than a.... tight thing, to try to protect from the searing heat. 

So now I'm sad that summers are no longer the fun season they were, and feel a bit of home sickness for New Zealand. I'm relieved to be going into cooler temperatures without the months of dismal gray (I hope, this will be our first winter in Texas). Yet I'm mourning the daily trips to the swimming pool, and hopeful that next year at this time we'll have our own pool. 

It's like a storm of warring emotions in my head right now. 

But, the Smirnoff is calling, and those ribs on the bbq are already smelling divine. I hope everyone is having a fun and safe Labor Day. 

Did you really just say that?

I take the whole "til death parts us" part of the wedding vows pretty seriously. So much so that it was one of the few traditional parts of the wedding ceremony that Steve and I kept in our somewhat less than traditional wedding. So, it's quite a heartbreak when a marriage breaks up. And I know it happens, and in some cases it's probably for the best, but it's still sad.

Even more so when it turns into a screaming in the middle of the street, name calling fiasco IN FRONT OF THEIR TODDLER to such a horrible degree that I damned near called the police. On her. He was trying to stay civil, and keep the kids safe from any further trauma. She was calling, screaming, the most vial things at him. As it turns out, she's the one that had the affair.

This weekend, they've been moving out of the house, each with their own separate trucks and helpers. I'm amazed that there hasn't been another incident, but maybe it's because they're staying in the house as much as possible. The thing is, our other really helpful neighbors don't seem to be helping. I think everyone within a five block radius heard that fight and know that tensions are high. Best just to step away.

So, it's pretty obvious that my one thing today is my husband. There are times I'd like that whole "til death parts us" to find him buried in the backyard, and I'm pretty sure he's felt the same about me at times. But in the 7 years we've been together, we've never had what I would consider a fight. We've disagreed, sometimes quite strongly, but we've always found a way to compromise and/or find a middle ground. And we've been through some of the most stressful situations you can possibly face as a couple.

It's amazing to find someone who accepts me with all my crazy, and even love me not in spite of it, but because of it. It's great to be able to sit on a grass hill, cramping up from the uncomfortable position, stomachs beginning to churn from the rich meal we just ate, for the simple pleasure of watching a million bats come out from under a bridge at dusk. It's special to play together in the pool, splashing and dunking each other with complete trust that you're always perfectly safe.

But the best part? The absolute best part is when he says something completely private in a public place loud enough for the woman shopping next to us to hear and then he blushes while we both giggle. The best part is that despite the years, the pounds, and the fact that he has seen me at my absolute worst, he still finds me attractive. And vice versa.

Holiday rage

Nothing brings on pure, blinding, irrational rage and anti-social attitude quite as quickly or completely as holiday traffic. For anyone reading this outside the States, this Monday is Labor Day. In true American fashion, though, one day simply isn't enough to show our love of all things summer (I'll talk about that in another post), so we use the entire weekend for car sales, mattress sales, and booze sales. Seems less like a farewell to summer and more a reveling in consumerism.

I mistakenly thought that today, Friday, midday, would be safe to run some of the errands that I needed to get done. Stores will be crazy this weekend with bargain hounds and people getting the makings for their last bbq of summer, but people work Friday, right?

No, apparently not. Apparently the traditional 3-day weekend has oozed over onto Friday as well. Normally, people are- generally speaking- horrendous drivers. Most of the time I'm stunned that half the people on the road ever got their license because it seems they just don't understand the concept of lanes, brakes, speed limits, and especially turn signals. Couple that with the heat index, oncoming storm fronts, and holiday brain it's amazing that anyone is surviving. Thank goodness it's not a full moon! Although, living in a city whose infrastructure was built for a fraction of the people now living here really doesn't help matters. I'm pretty sure the city planner had his 5 year old play roller coaster tycoon and then based the layout of the city on the outcome.

I'm now scared to pick my son up from school today. The radical lane changes, wondering shoppers, and clucking women- honestly, there was a group of 3 women in Home Goods that were trying to drive the world insane with their incessantly inane chatter- have made my eye twitch. Literally.

The best part? I still have to do groceries. I'm holding out until Monday. It may be a mistake; the one that finally pushes me over the edge. I can't face Wal-Mart right now, though. Just the thought of it makes me physically ill. I'm going to sit here, in the air conditioning, drinking my coke, and I'll probably do some sculpting. Later, I'm going to try cognac for the first time. And I'm going to pretend that Wal-Mart doesn't exist. Pretend that I have servants who do the chores that threaten the last scraps of sanity that I clutch on. Pretend that when I don't have any other choice but to go, it won't be as bad as it normally is.

One thing: I have a bottle of Laphroaig. Mmmmm....

Technicolor

One of the things I used to do was every month I would buy something or do something just for me. Sometimes it was a massage, sometimes a cd; big or small, I made sure to do something for myself once a month. It felt selfish at first, but it was a good way of meeting my needs without overburdening myself.

Then I got married, and even that little bit became difficult to do. Now I do things for my husband and I on a much more regular basis, but our individual needs do tend to go by the wayside. It's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just life. Sometimes that's just the way it is.

All this is bringing me to the simple fact that I dyed my hair this morning. For whatever reason, I have to justify the cost of hair dye. Most people, I'm sure, wouldn't even question it. Depression makes me question if I'm actually worth the $20.

Whether or not I am, though, I do enjoy having red hair once again!

Baskerville Hound- UPDATED

In the beginning of the year, we decided to get a second dog. We thought about it for a while, weighed the pros and cons, and finally decided that yes, it would be a good thing. So, when we went to the pet store where they have adoptions every Saturday morning, we were prepared to seriously consider the dogs available. None really appealed to me, though, so I was ready to try again in a week or so, start going to the shelter, try another place, etc.

Until one of the little dogs caught Steve's eye, and he just had to meet him. It was love at first sight. Of course, as soon as Steve was in love, the kids were in love, and I was over ruled. Toby joined our family.

It's not that I don't like Toby- he's a great dog! Dumb as a stump, but he tries so hard to please and he is so loving you can't help but love him back. But he has some issues.

He's a cairn terrier mix, meaning he has long hair. I don't like long hair dogs because grooming them takes a lot of effort. Even more so when the dog is terrified of anything to do with grooming. When we first got him, he attacked the brush any time he saw it. We actually left it in the middle of the living room floor, purposely ignoring it, until he finally stopped growling at it every time he walked by. Then it was another month of holding it, getting it closer and closer to him, before finally being able to brush him a little. Now, he doesn't mind the brush as long as we keep him trimmed, which brings us to the next issue.

He's ok with having his back and sides clippered. Touch his face, legs, chest, stomach, tail, or ears, though, and you'll loose a finger. Basically, all the places that are currently matted with burs from the yard. And the last time I took him to the groomers, they called and said they couldn't finish because he was in such a panic they thought he might seriously hurt himself.

We had to take him to the vet for updated shots, and we told her about the problem. She said she could prescribe some sedatives to knock him down just enough to let us groom him.

We just tried it.

We gave him half a pill like she said. Damn near lost a hand.

We gave him another quarter of a pill like she said. There's no change!

One of the problems is that he's naturally so mellow (until the grooming tools come out) that it's very hard to tell if the sedatives are taking effect. He's not a big dog, this really should have done something!

This is when I want the ability to call the dog whisperer and plead for help.

At least a positive for today is that my son seems to be settling into his new school ok. He was told off for making jokes at an inappropriate time (the math teacher asked if anyone had any questions, so he raised his hand and asked, "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" He's very proud of himself that he can say it now, it's taken a lot of practice), but there have been no calls home, no emergencies, and he doesn't even fight me when it's time to go to school. This is a huge improvement! Fingers crossed he can keep it up.


UPDATE- Apparently the sedatives just take a little longer to take effect. He still complained bitterly, but at least we got the burs and knots off. And now we know we can take him to a groomer. Just have to sedate him 45 minutes before!

I don't like Mondays

Today started with anxiety riddled butterflies in my stomach, and has somehow managed to go downhill.

Mondays suck. Today more than most.

It's the first day of school for my son; he's started 6th grade this year. We moved this summer so this is his first time in a Texas school, and the first time in 2 years in a mainstream school. We have not had good luck with schools.

When he started school in New Zealand when he was 5, the principal was an evil man. No really. We were going through testing to see what was going on with my son because he wasn't like the other children, and it was decided he is on the autism spectrum. The principal said it was a speech impediment brought on by listening to his American mother and I should just really stop talking and focus on the housework so that I would stop destroying my son. Yes, he really said that, nearly word for word, to my face. He almost died. It was when I went to pick my son up after school one day and found the principal chasing him around the playground with a bit of wood threatening to hit him that I said enough is enough and moved to a different school.

They were better, and much more equipped to deal with difficult children.

We moved back to the States a few years later, so when my son began 4th grade, we were in Southern California. We told the school everything we'd been through. We gave them copies of the tests and his school records from New Zealand. They did their own assessments. And then put him in a classroom where he lasted a total of 45 minutes before chaos erupted. Blood was shed. He was suspended, put through an amazing array of assessments, 5150'd and dragged to an institution in hand cuffs where they couldn't hold him because he was too young (he was only 9!), and enrolled in a special school with one-on-one support. He did ok there, but since it was a school for troubled youths and special need individuals, his education was not to the level I was happy with and it was always a bit stressful.

Now he's back in mainstream school. I've been terrified. But, it's been 5 hours since I dropped him off, and we haven't gotten a phone call yet. That's a good sign!

Normally, however, Mondays are not my favorite days. My Mondays are grocery shopping days. I hate grocery shopping with a passion. Actually, I'm not fond of shopping in general, but groceries are the absolute worst. I don't know why exactly, it's just the way it is.

So I really didn't need the text message from Sprint as I left Costco notifying me that they are going to disconnect my service unless I pay them. The thing is: our account is $200 in credit! Steve called them last week when they sent a past due notice and they said, "Oh, sorry about that! Our system must have had an error, I'll take care of that right away!" Turns out she didn't take care of it, and they were going to disconnect us! Even worse, it turns out that their system was taking the money for payment, but not allocating it properly. So, we only saw the $0 balance due, $190 credit, they saw $40 past due. And for $40 past due that wasn't past due they threatened to disconnect service and turn a collections agent on us!

As soon as our contract is up, we're changing phone companies.

With all of this, One Thing is a bit hard to find. It's strange because I don't feel particularly depressed right now. Anxious, yes. Pissed off, yes. Depressed, not really.

I do have a partial box of See's chocolates to partake of, and a bag of M&M's though. So yeah. Chocolate. Chocolate is always a good thing!

Doctor Who Day!

Today, despite forced manual labor- had to take the dogs for a walk and some gardening this morning- dying of heat, and not being able to complete a few things I really wanted to do for a variety of reasons, it is a good day. Because it is Dr. Who day! Tonight, not only is it a new series, but a new Doctor as well. After being married for a few years, a new Doctor is akin to a first date. Will you like him or will it take a while to warm up to him? Will he be dark and brooding or silly and boyish? Will he be steampunk, goth, nerdy, futuristic, or something else entirely? There is excitement in a new Doctor. There is joy in any Doctor Who.

If you have not discovered the brilliance that is Doctor Who, do yourself a favor and watch some. BBC America is running a marathon of Doctors past in preparation for tonight's epicness, and they often run Doctor Who marathons. Keep a look out.

And just for the record, spell check, "steampunk" is a word. And although "epicness" may not currently be a proper word, it should be. Note to self: use "epicness" in a sentence once a day.

New beginnings

I was 11 years old the first time I thought that the world and everyone in it- especially my friends and family- would be much better off if I wasn't around.

One thing, one day is about depression and suicide prevention. When things are at their darkest- the medication doesn't work, therapy has lost, the clouds are thick and you truly believe that you are the worst person on the face of the planet- find one thing to get you through one more day. Tomorrow, hopefully things will be better. Or maybe you'll have to find another thing to get you through another day. Eventually a tomorrow will come when things are better again. Until the next time they're bad again and you have to find one thing again. There is no cure for depression. Just the long endless battles. I may have to find a Xena costume to wear on my worse days just to remind myself that I have to be a warrior.

This promises to be a hard blog for me to write. Mainly because I've avoided talking about my emotions for most of my life since people seem to be very uncomfortable when the answer to the question "how are you?" is anything other than "fine." But sometimes I'm very far from fine. In fact, most days, "fine" is such a distant dream that walking on the moon seems more achievable. And no, that's not ok, but it is my reality so I live with it and just get to tomorrow.

The passing of Robin Williams recently has thrown the issue of suicide and depression into the spotlight for a little while. And although the huge surge of social media posts laying blame and saying "get help" has seemed to subsided a bit, it still needs to be an issue that we aren't afraid to talk about, despite being a difficult subject.

Isn't that the kicker? People go around shouting "get help!" but we really need to talk, to be listened to, it seems there's scores of people around us with their thumbs on their foreheads saying, "not it!" So, when we feel like we're unimportant, worthless, useless, and scum, the very same people who claim to care reinforce that believe because talking about the negativity makes them uncomfortable. It's natural, but still creates a vicious cycle. And if you've ever tried to gt professional help, you probably know how that can push you even further into depression. Some people are lucky to find a therapist that they click with. After trying 6, I gave up. It's apparently not for me.

And neither are medications. I've tried a few, and hated them all. Sometimes it's necessary to get me through a particularly rough patch, but then the depression worsens when I notice all the weight I've gained and can't take it off. Or when I feel so completely removed from myself and reality. And the medication doesn't change how people respond to me.

So, I'll try this. Writing about my feelings in a public setting will probably prove to be hard, at least at first. And I really want to try to write every day. I've set that goal and failed several times over. Maybe it's another symptom of depression- constantly setting yourself up for disappointment. But, I'm making the goal anyway. My hope is that it will help me feel more in control of my emotions and my life, and also help others out there who might be feeling the same way at least feel not so alone. So if you do find help here, please let me know so we both can feel not so alone.

My one thing for today is my son. He's usually my one thing. He's on the autism spectrum, quite high functioning, but still a challenge. I couldn't think about leaving him with the belief that I abandoned him.