Ahem... what was I saying about cramps?

Such a charming way to start the morning. It's Memorial Day, a holiday, no school. I'm warm, but not too warm, snuggled in my jersey sheets. Charlie the wonderdog is nestled up against my calf, it's the almost light before dawn, and all is right with the world.

Except.

I feel a slight... dampness between my legs. And not in a good way. I'm just sweaty, that's it.

No.

I get up, aforementioned dampness turns to a waterfall, and I shuffle off to the bathroom to take care of it. It looks like I was shot. Blood dripping in the toilet, down my leg, there was even some on my ankle from my hurried dash from the bedroom.

Off with the nightie which looks as if there was an entry wound, but no exit in this shooting, and the spraying of it with Wine-Away (I didn't have any Spray n' Wash). New pajamas with a protective layer of old panty just in case. Back to the bed to inspect for damage. Yep, the shooting took place in here. Through the sheets and the mattress pad. Not quite to the mattress, so the victim couldn't have been on the bed too long.

Damn it.

So, strip the sheets off the bed, more Wine-Away, and out to the washing machine in the early morning light.

This is all before 5:30 in the morning.

Hooray for another day.

Home stretch

May 24, 2005 is when I started this blog. As em, I was encouraged to do it by Torn, and I've been able to keep in touch more with friends through it.

A year of blogging. It's strange. Very few people read what I write, and even less comment on it. It's a public journal of sorts, but of course it's not exactly the same. I can say anything in my private journal; here, even though I like the idea of it being honest and truthful, I'm always considering my words. From whether or not I spelled a particular word correctly, to whether or not I'm going to hurt someone's feelings with what I say. I react to what others say on their blogs, knowing very well they will read mine, which is something unheard of in my own handwritten journal by my bed.

If a student wanted to find this blog, it would be possible. Not easy, but possible. I have to think about that too.

I've learned things I would have been happier not to know from this blogging life. The lack of emotion, inflection affects the way I read and how I've been read. I've thought about just leaving all this alone.

Sometimes it feels like a popularity contest; "has anyone read me today?" "How many comments did I get?" "God, I really put my heart and soul into that, and no one even noticed."

I failed at that contest the first time in junior high, and sometimes it feels like I'm back there again.

Teasing comments I could totally make in person come off as spiteful when left in writing. I've had my comments deleted when someone didn't like what I said, or how it made him look to his other readers.

I've had to learn a whole new idea of tact. I still haven't got it right sometimes.

Maybe that's why I'm not winning at this popularity thing, this second go round. I don't write every day, I don't comment on other blogs every day, and I sometimes forget that every one has a different reason for their blog.

Most of my friends never read my blog, even though I've told them about it. I like being the center of attention, but people have other things to do than learn that I've lost a pound or have cramps.

So, what's my point?

I don't have one. I talk a lot, and most of it is banal. Not always mind you, I mean, remember the monkeys and the typewriter analogy. You know, given enough time, something worthwhile's gotta come out of me.

And so it is with this blog. Most of what I write is unimportant. Every once in a while it's not.

Here's to another year.

So close, and yet so far

Two pounds! I lost two pounds this week!

I know, I know, in the bigger scheme of things, so what? There's a war going on, our phone calls and websearches are being tracked, there's an idiot in the white house...

But,

I lost two pounds!

eight tenths of a pound and I will be at the 40 pound mark. Gosh, that's a lot of potatoes. It's a toddler. It's quite a big bag of potting soil.

It's a lot.

I'm tired, and going to bed early tonight.

The Plateau

That is one hell of a hard word to spell. I kept trying different vowel combinations, and all looked weird. Torn probably loves it for Scrabble or Tangleword.

So sad, speaking of Tangleword. I have slower-than-cold-molasses-in-January dial up still here at home, so I can't play it here, and my school district has just put all kinds of new blockage up, so can no longer get to the Iwin.com playsite anymore. Don't tell me to get DSL, I'm still too far out in the boonies to get it. Cable is my only choice, and it's frickin' fifty dollars a month. I don't want to play games that badly.

But it sure would be quick.

Anyway, back to my title. I'm at a plateau regarding poundage lost. I've been hovering around the 38 pound mark for two months. It sucks, because it was coming off so regularly before, and I got used to that. Now it's gain two-tenths of a pound, lose four-tenths, gain a pound, lose a pound... etc.

Of course, I've lost 38 pounds. That's something. It's really something. I'm just not finished yet, and it's getting me down. I've set little goals for myself along the way. I want to lose 50 pounds by my birthday in August. That's only 12 pounds in three months. It's doable. It's possible. Will I make it happen? I don't know.

Oh, Happy Mother's Day Em, and any other moms reading today!

six weeks left

but who's counting?

I am wiped out from my weekend with the sister and father and wife of father. Dad got really sick; a bad cold, and so was like a weak little kitten most of the visit. He had to take a nap on Saturday (sister, wife of father and I went to Target), and Saturday night, he could only eat soup instead of the overly cooked steak my sister made. He went back to the hotel early because he felt so terrible. I actually felt bad for him.

All the worry I had about the visit was pretty much unfounded. He was very careful about what he said around me, and I was careful around him.

Charlie and Gideon (my sister's monster dog), didn't get along so well. Gideon actually drew blood after biting Charlie's ear. I guess Charlie got too close to the bag of dog food in the kitchen. Not sure what happened, but heard the most horrible noise come out of my little guy. He ran to me in the living room and jumped in my lap. I realized he'd been bitten when the blood from his ear got on my shirt.

He lived. I hope sister gets that dog some training though. Every time Charlie would get petted or any attention, Gideon would come over and nudge him out of the way. Charlie's the most submissive dog in the world, and still, Gideon wouldn't leave him alone.

So, this next weekend is Mother's day, then a weekend off, then Memorial day, then sister's 40th birthday extravaganza, then two weeks and school's out.

I have so much to do.

At my sister's house... Saturday night

Okay, so I'm still functional right now, but will definitely be ready to go home tomorrow.

The picture is of us today at the Ronald Reagan Library and Museum (I know, I know... shush.)

We're in front of the Air Force One plane that Reagan used. I bought the picture for a ridiculous $10.95 for a present for the father. Go on, laugh it up.

Tired tonight

But I'm waiting for my laundry to finish. Actually, only one of the loads. I'll put the other in the dryer tomorrow morning, early. I'm just too beat to stay up late again tonight. And, if I put my wet stuff in the dryer at 11 pm, it will be all wrinkled when I get it tomorrow.

The banality of my life can really get to me sometimes.

I took the day off tomorrow, and will drive to Chatsworth to be with my sister when my father and his wife visit. It will be the first time I've seen him since he stopped talking to me a couple of years ago. We've had a few sparse emails since then, and I figure, he's my dad, so I'll suck it up.

You know though, I have no clue what we will talk about. I was running through possible topics, and I've come up with only two: the weather and food.

That's it. I went crazy a couple of days ago, figuring out all kinds of things to do; go to the Reagan library and museum, go miniature golfing, movies, a comedy show... I'm trying to fill up as much time as I can, to avoid any kind of interaction. I'm nervous that I won't be able to shut my mouth if he says something racist or generally asinine.

My sister has a totally different idea. I don't know who she thinks is coming to visit her, but it's not the same man I'm expecting.

"Oh, I thought we could barbecue here at my house, you know, to save money. We could play board games, too. We don't have to go out."

This from the girl who bought herself a white, multi-colored, leather appliqued, Coach purse for $400 because she saw it in a magazine and "had to have it."

What is she talking about, saving money? Who's money? What about my sanity?

Ugh.

I'll get back to you all on Sunday.

Be well.

my throat hurts

No, I'm not sick, and I haven't been yelling. I was eating my soup tonight (black bean and roasted pepper), with my Tostitos "light" chips, and one of the chips went down and got stuck in my throat.

God. It sucked.