A History of Pests

When I die, let it be said that I have a respect for insecta of all kinds. My respect is primarily reserved to those who observe the unspoken edict that they remain out of doors, never crossing the threshold of our home. I can identify the purpose and usefulness of some of these insects, and understand that they play a role in nature. There are a few that are anomalies, such as the mosquito, that serve no purpose other than to spread communicable diseases and itching welts- but I hear there are insects that are actually beneficial if not entirely innocuous. I reserve a hallowed place for one type of insect in my home, however. One that is not really an insect at all really, an arachnid. I leave the spiders to their peace so that they may aid me in my mission to eradicate the actually bothersome insects.

Before we moved here, my cousin Cathryne warned me that North Carolina was home to more insects than anywhere in the nation, some of them as large as birds. She learned this from a stint she spent in Chapel Hill. She claimed she could not even sit in the grass for fear of the many classes of insects that threatened to overtake her. I waived away her concerns, believing that she and I must be cut from a different cloth. She was right. In fact, depending on the time of day, you can hear a veritable roar of cicadas that quickly becomes background noise, part and parcel of living in the South.

However. 

Once said insects cross into my territory- into a carpeted, air-conditioned, civilized world-all bets are off.

For the most part, our home regularly only houses the human and feline species, but occasionally something else sneaks in. I can't really blame them- especially in August, but that doesn't change the fact that they are entirely unwelcome. 

I will now chronicle for you our history of pests in this home:

 Only twice since we moved here 4 years ago have I seen a cockroach- big, black 2-inch suckers that scurry and flee to the shelter of the underside of the couch or my sink drain. That's not bad for 4 years, but both of these incidences incited a near riot of one. I sat perched on my couch, which I quickly became afraid of, imagining it's many insidious and invisible predators that prey on dead skin cells and my peace of mind. Suddenly, I lived in a tainted world. All porous surfaces were suspect, and could I have afforded it, I would have hired a fumigator, ordered all new furniture and carpet, a Kirby cleaner, and a deep-cleaning team of specialists within the 5 minutes of sighting the cockroach. Alas, I was left to buy copious amounts of roach bait, clean compulsively and keep the name of an exterminator on hand should I sight another one. 

One of my cat's many faults is that they cannot eat without spilling cat food all over the floor. This may have something to do with the fact that all of Smeagle's tiny front cat teeth have fallen out, he has recently lost an incisor and a molar, and his remaining teeth are so plaque-encrusted it sometimes makes closing his mouth difficult. Nevertheless, they spill their food all over the floor, which sustains a large colony of the tiniest ants in the world who keep a steady track from the cat food to my window sill.

Once I discovered some very small larvae-looking things in the bottom of a rank laundry basket where damp clothes may have been collecting for longer than is advisable. Repulsed, I whisked them into a collection jar, and started my research, afraid for bed bugs. They turned out to be carpet beetles, which after my reading I was convinced would be the ruination of our home and family. I vacuumed religiously and kept better up on the laundry which were my only defenses against them.

I have seen and heard mice in my kitchen so many times I disregard it now. I've actually only sighted one once, but I am convinced that everything I hear from that vicinity is a mouse, hellbent on bringing my insanity to full fruition. As with the other pests I have battled, I go straight for the big guns. Had these mice been found in nature, I would smile at their small, cute natures and leave them to themselves. But once again, once they enter into my home, all I can think of is vanquishment at any cost. Mouse traps and carefully placed mouse poison. Incidentally, my cats are completely  useless against these pets. Never once have they caught a mouse, though they sometimes lay in wait, studying a corner of my kitchen which always makes me uneasy. Once, several years ago, Dobby caught a fly by one wing in her mouth, then eating it, earning her the nickname of 'Ninja Cat'. That has been the whole of their usefulness in their 7 1/2 years.

A few weeks ago, Timm came home from Scout camp and dumped his bag on the living room floor. Later that day, a small blue-tailed lizard was seen racing through the living room. This variety is often seen sunning on our front porch, making a hasty retreat as soon as you open the door. This was the first time I had seen a reptile in this home. Smeagle darted after it, causing Bella to sing his praises whenever possible to allay Timm's threats of turning him into 'Smeagle bacon'. I picked it up, it comically clamped down on my finger, and I released it outside. I blamed it on Timm's scout bag, but I'm really not so sure.

The next week, I was in the kitchen when Fiona came to me, wide-eyed saying: 'mama! There's a fwogda wiving woom!' (Or, 'Mama, there's a frog in the living room!') I chided her 2-year old imagination and moved to inspect. There, in close proximity to our dryer, was a frog, completely covered in lint. His eyeballs were so coated with it that he struggled to close his eyes and I had to thoroughly rinse him in the kitchen sink before returning him outside. I will admit, that one still mystifies me.

All of this evidence, collected, sounds horrifying. It makes me out to be a slovenly, unkempt and unsanitary person. That I might be, but our home is not. It's not perfect, but most of the time I like to think my house is cleaner than many others. As an example, I sweep my kitchen at least 3 times a day. This is in part because I have small children who eat like Cookie Monster, and because I cannot abide the feeling of crumbs underfoot. After the cockroach debacle, I further intensified my sweeping initiatives. My point is, I am not living in the deplorable conditions this evidence would suggest, and there is no need, at this time, to contact Child Protective Services.

And then. Then.

The whammy.

Lice.

Machine Washable

I don't have a lot of 'nice' things. Don't get me wrong- I have cute things, they're just not usually very high quality. Anything nice that I do have is almost certainly a gift or a hand-me-down from my mom. I've always said that were it not for my benefactor, we'd have cinder block bookshelves and bed sheets stapled to the windows. Because of her, my home has never reflected how truly poor we might have been at the time. I was raised in a very nice home and was quite accustomed to fine things, but as I ventured out in a poorly disguised version of 'living on my own' I became more and more aware that my adult life would probably not mirror the example I had as a child. I was not raised in wealth, nor was I particularly spoiled, but I never had to go without and I could usually have what I needed. Our homes were not small, and they were always beautifully appointed. 

I went through a series of progressive adjustments once I left the comparative luxury of my parent's home and became accustomed to the fact that I would lead a simpler lifestyle. My lack of expensive things originated from the lack of money necessitated to buy high quality things, but fortunately for me it has also become a choice of lifestyle. I have definite opinions, styles, and preferences, but I have found that they can almost always be accommodated without spending a lot of money. Because I was fortunate enough to be raised in  beautiful and creative environments I learned to create those spaces myself. There are times when something may warrant spending as much as you can afford, when you are buying an investment piece or something substantial where cheap just won't do, but many more times when it is just not expedient to spend exorbitant amounts of money unnecessarily.

I'm also very casual. I don't own or even want china. I don't care about a formal dining room. I don't care much for anything formal in fact. And clothes? Getting dressed up and accessorized once a week for church is fulfilling enough for me. The rest of the week I am usually happy in jeans or even stretchy pants unless an occasion warrants otherwise.  Sometimes I work hard and sweat profusely, staining my clothes. I get down on my hands and knees and get to work, in whatever I'm wearing. I have to scrub toilets and bathtubs. I clean litter boxes and wipe bums. I need clothes I can move in, and that will not cost me an arm and leg to repeatedly throw in the washer and dryer- or worse, dry cleaning! (the horror) And sometimes I drip ice cream down my front, or more often I drop food into my cavernous cleavage. Sometimes I don't find it until I change my clothes at night when it falls out of my bra.

I also have kids. As a new mother I was aghast to find dry clean-only baby clothes! I don't want silk covered chairs that I have to cover, again, when they are in use to protect the silk. I don't want fabrics that will stain and ruin with the very threat of little fingers approaching and that will stain once again as I try to clean them. I don't want delicate drapes that will tear the first time one of my errant children plays in them despite my repeated threats of bodily harm if they should do so. I want something I can repeatedly throw in the wash and know it will come out alright.  I want a clean home as well, and feel satisfied by washing something and then drying it in high temperatures, erasing and killing whatever may be there, real or unreal, seen or unseen.

A long time ago as I was washing my living room pillows for the umpteenth time, I realized that I live a 'machine washable life', and I like it. I think you could aptly describe my whole life with that term: Machine Washable. Sensible, practical, durable, affordable, but still cute. Something that might get dirty frequently because you really use it, sharing it with people in your life, but is easily remedied, coming out clean again and again- if not a little worse for the wear.

That's me- Machine Washable. My person, my home,  my lifestyle.

A Teacher's Fate

Associated Press 

photo taken in St. George, Utah- April 2011

"I think these turned out okay, honey", she says as she closely inspects a dish from the dishwasher, putting it away. Conscientious homemaker? Maybe. These days the dishes need a closer look since they're washed without dishwasher detergent. "I just put the dishwasher on the sanitize anti-bacterial setting and hope for the best!" says Jessie Tanner, 30 of North Carolina. They've recently hit a rough patch, but nothing they haven't seen before. "Well, we're on our last 2 rolls of toilet paper, we don't have any dishwasher detergent, I think we might have one more load of laundry soap, and I've got about 25 baby wipes left.What else? Yesterday the last cup of milk we had froze so I poured ice chips over my cereal and waited for it to melt a little. Oh, and we used our last pocket change to buy a small bag of cat litter, cause you can't really get by without that!"

What has landed the Tanners in this financial blight? Are they among the 9% of unemployed Americans in this country? Hardly. Timm Tanner, 32, has worked at least 2 jobs for the last 10 years. One of which used to be a high school teacher, and not just any teacher but 'Teacher of the Year'. A very talented teacher, one that has been recognized by his students, his peers, and his superiors. So what happened? When the Tanners moved to North Carolina 4 years ago they knew what they were in for. Teacher's salary schedules are public information, and shows you your entire career in a table projecting the next 30 years. There are no secrets, and the future doesn't look exceptionally bright for teachers in America. Worse still if there is a salary freeze, which has been in effect since Timm's first year teaching. At year 4 he is still making the same salary he did when he started, with no end in sight. There is no telling when the freeze will be lifted, and he will never resume the same year's salary that he is entitled based on the schedule he was hired on. The Tanners have one car, their two daughters Bella, 6, and Fiona, 2, qualify for Medicaid and Jessie hasn't had health coverage in 4 years. At times they've even qualified for food stamps, though they haven't used them since moving to North Carolina, despite Timm working as many as 17 hours a day. Such is the plight of teachers in America. Even for 'Teachers of the Year'.

"I told her just to enjoy this last time we'll have to go through this. Right now we have less than a dollar in our bank account, our credit cards are overdrawn and our gas tank is on empty. But this is the last time!" explains Timm. "I just took a job with Carolina's Healthcare and start next week." Timm has left teaching high school and instead will be training physicians in technology applications- a major loss to public education, and doubtless a disappointment for his returning students in the fall. "I have to take care of my family, number one, and I can't continue to do that this way." Timm explains.

This isn't the first time a teacher has left education for (literally) greener pastures, and it won't be the last. There is little incentive for talented teachers to enter the teaching field, and even less for them to stay. Until this country changes it's priorities and pays teachers a salary commensurate with their worth and their abilities, it will continue to happen in increasing numbers. Timm's new job is a perfect example. With Carolina's Healthcare, he will start at a salary 50% more than his two jobs combined, working one job with hours that will leave him with time for his family, and the money to take care of them. 

"We're really excited to move onto this next phase in our lives. And to go grocery shopping!" Jessie exults.

*No details in this article have been exaggerated 

An Outline of Events From 6/4 through 7/6

(or, where I've been for a month)

Introduction: Summer Hits Hard

I. I turn 30.

II. I continue my running career

III. Timm gets a new job

IV. Summer Fun

Introduction: Summer Hits Hard

 By way of explanation, summer came. I was plodding along, going about my usual business, when Wham! school was out and Bella was home every day. All day. Were you aware this happened every June? Cause it kind of sidelined me. Here's the thing: (I say 'Here's the Thing' a lot, I think.) Social interaction drains me. (I am an almost-agoraphobe after all) Even when the social interaction is enjoyable, fun, and energizing, when all is said and done, it drains me. I only recharge in solitude. (As grandma used to say, solitude is restorative, and it is) So suddenly, Bella was home everyday and I was thrust back into full-time motherhood of two small girls who bicker and squabble at least as often as they play cooperatively. And Fiona, she alone could wear out an army in a day. She never stops, never slows, never quiets. It's go, go, go, and yammering away all day. So anyway, I found that my days with the girls were about all the social interaction I could stand. At day's end, when they were finally in bed, I just wanted to be alone and bask in my own company. No emailing, no commenting, no blogging, no phone conversations- I was done. Tapped. And for 2 1/2 of those weeks Timm was out of town, so it was single motherhood for me. Yikes. But I've taken a month and adapted a bit. So here we are.

I. I turn 30.

I did, last month. June 18th. Thank you to all who sent well wishes and notes and gifts! It was a wonderful birthday. It had the makings to be disappointing because Timm had to leave town the morning of my birthday. Luckily, my parents came into town the day before so I got to spend it with them. It is wonderful to be with your mother on your birthday- especially when you have my mother and she takes birthdays seriously. I even got to go on a rare date with Timm the night before he left. The day of my birthday I spent with mom and Linda, doing the kind of things I rarely do, namely: shopping, a spa pedicure and out to lunch. Then we went out to dinner with Linda's family. All in all, it was a great day, a great milestone birthday. I highly recommend celebrating with your mother whenever possible.

II. I Continue My Running Career

I've continued to run 3 times a week for the last few weeks and I love/hate it. Running is a fickle, fickle friend. Two days ago I ran for 2.5 miles and I felt like I was floating on air. It was amazing. Tonight I ran 2 miles and I felt like someone was hitting me with a hammer the entire, arduous time. Terrible.

Some of the highlights: when I got my spa pedicure the woman asked me if I was a runner, judging from a purple toenail. When I answered her in the affirmative, it was one of the best days of my life. Plus, it was my 30th birthday, so win-win.

A few days previous, I had to relieve some of the pressure in that toenail by stabbing a sewing needle under my nail bed. Repeatedly. Like, all the way down the whole nail bed. The weird thing is, it didn't even hurt.

Tonight, the toenail fell off. I thought I had salvaged it, but nope. I have a good 'nail in training' going on now. That's actually what they call the nail bed underneath that toughens up and eventually grows out to be a regular nail, months later. I feel validated.

III. Timm gets a new job.

Yep.

IV. Summer Fun

Just kidding! 

I'll tell you about the job now. It's pretty freakin' exciting if you're Jessie Tanner. Which I am. So I'm pretty freakin' excited.

Fortuitously, proving that it's all in who you know, Timm got a job with Carolina's Healthcare. The Young Mens President he is a counselor to gave him a heads up about an opening as a trainer for physicians. It's still unclear to me what exactly he will be doing, but it involves training physicians in technology. Or something. What I do know, is that for the first time since I met Timm 9 years ago, he will only be working 1 job. One solitary, splendid job. (He has always worked between 2 and 4 jobs. 4.) I also know that it will be a 50% increase over our previous sad salary. We don't even know what it will be like, but we plan on seeing a lot more of each other, having a family day together once a week, paying off some debt and eventually even, dare I say it, saving some money. He starts on the 18th, so we have a week together before he begins his new career.

And in the mean time we are keeping busy with all kinds of summer fun. Which I will try and detail and chronicle as the summer days wear on.

Impoverished Evidence

In keeping with the vow of poverty I have so nobly taken upon myself, I turned, once again, to Great Clips to update my look. (If you would have told me at the age of 17 that I would regularly go to Great Clips or anything like unto it for style, that I would entrust them to cut my hair, let alone go for a new look, I would have died. That age was a now long-forgotten era where I had disposable income and it was used to purchase things like various Aveda shampoos. I can remember having a selection of 4 different Aveda products in my shower and how utterly intoxicating they felt and smelled. Since that time I have also fallen to the point where I trusted Timm to cut my hair for about the first year of our marriage. And it was a pixie cut. How times change; how they change indeed.)

(Even though I am not officially 30 for 4 more months, I have telltale wrinkles around my eyes. And mouth. Just for fun.)

I took these about a month ago, upon coming home from Great Clips and restyling it myself. I asked her to stack it dramatically up the back. I have a weird, flat head and need the volume of short (pixie short) hair in the back, but want it to look like I have long hair in the front. I plan on growing it for quite some time in this fashion, keeping it in the same dramatic- even severe-angle, but longer all over. I will keep it short enough in the back to disguise my freakishly flat head and mess it up all funky-like.

Upon styling it I positioned myself at my front door, where I get the most natural light to take these SPs. My dad was visiting, and I noticed he had a bit of a smirk on his face. I asked him what he thought, and he replied with a question of his own: "What do you think of it?" (That is generally not a sign that the questioner approves.) I told him I liked it to which he merely said, eyebrows raised, "It's awfully short in the back..." I told him it's supposed to be. He wore an expression that suggested he was embarrassed for me, but tried to hide the smirk he still had on his face. Perhaps these photos don't completely convey the shortness of the back, but later that day my mom agreed that she thought it was cute.

"He doesn't know anything", she informed me.

(I told you I liked my trashy shirt. Paired with this favorite gray ruffled cardigan, it's my stay-at-home-day uniform. I have a lot of stay at home days; It's a very clear edict in my Homebody Code.)

PSA

There is a chance (albeit a very small one) that eating frosting off of a spoon throughout the day will make you physically ill. Even if it is homemade. I am actively working to disprove this theory and will keep you apprised of my findings.

Also, my laptop has contracted a nasty virus ("Damn you, cyber bullies!!!") and is in repair. Thus, I have a lot of photos to post, Valentine's crafts to show, and emails to respond to, but this is complicating matters. My IT tech (Timm) is putting in long hours to restore things and hopefully I will be back in the fray quickly. Although he does work 2 jobs, and won't be home for the next 3 days and nights, so it may be longer than I anticipate. (I don't pay him very well either.)

Back to my frosting research.

Today I...

washed

dried

folded

swished

swiped

wiped

swept

made

vacuumed

dusted

loaded

unloaded

baked

slept

scolded

neglected

threatened

denied

cuddled

rocked

loved

kissed

listened

sang

crafted

painted

read

organized

scooped

shopped

dressed up

glittered

ate

laughed

laughed more

partied

socialized

thanked

enjoyed

Money Saving Tip:

Cycle to the store.

Your purchases will be limited to what you can fit into your bike trailer and how much extra weight you are willing to haul back with you. That, or after your first trip you will learn to take the proper considerations.

At first the going was a little hard, but when I realized that I had the gears set to the hardest setting instead of the easiest, things improved quickly. This small change repaired some lost confidence from my last bike outing, when I was dismayed at my apparent and complete lack of physical strength. Turns out I was just pedaling against the most strenuous resistance, all the time.

(M'kay, I'm getting really sick of Blogger auto-rotating my photos and doing it incorrectly. )

After I stashed as many bags as possible into the back of the trailer I had to fill in the space around Fiona in the front as well. Luckily I kept her happy with a FiberOne bar on the way home.

A word to the wise: cabbages are especially heavy. So is butternut squash.

At least the bike's pretty cute.

Good thing I got ready before I biked the 3 miles each way.

What, you can't tell?

WTF?

So my husband's a high school teacher and sometimes the teenage vernacular comes home with him. 'WTF' is one of those which I inadvertently picked up. If you don't already know what it is short for, I'm sure you can surmise. Just know that for my purposes, I always say and think it exactly like it is written 'w.t.f.' and not the full intended exclamation. That said, I have found myself wondering about a few things lately and muttering that expression. Maybe someone can help me out with one or two of these things?

1. I love perfume. For years I wore Angel, introduced to me by Michelle, who started wearing it when it was only available in France. I got sick of it after a while as it is very distinct and strong and became more popular. There was no problem whatsoever with it's staying power. Then I tired one of the Angel Innocents, and while I really like the scent it does not stay. No one has ever noticed it on me, not once. So I decided to try again and got some Lilly Pulitzer Squeeze. It is very citrus-y as the name suggests. I love it! But again- no staying power! I have tried mixing it with lotion- putting a bit of lotion in my hand and then spraying directly onto it about 6 times. Then I put that all over my decolletage (or neck./chest region if you prefer). I still spray several times on my neck and arms. It smells great. Until I walk out of the room, and then it seems to have evaporated. Throughout the day I may or may not be able to recall the smell if I bury my nose into my arm. What am I doing wrong? WTF?

2. Our fridge has given us problems for as long as I can remember. Often the contents of the freezer are only semi-frozen: ice cream turns to soup, and sometimes the ice cubes don't even freeze! Just water. However in the back of the fridge, things can freeze all the time. A glass water pitcher froze and shattered, produce becomes wasted as it has frozen and thawed repeatedly. Last week our milk spoiled before the expiration date, I believe, because it was not cold enough. When do you repair a fridge and when do you just get a new one? I suspect it's not a very nice one. It was new-ish when we moved here three years ago, but I think it's very, er, affordable. What do I do? WTF?

3. I am reading Edgar Sawtelle right now on Michelle's recommendation and am really liking it. However, there is a stillbirth in the first 25 pages that I was not warned about. This is the 2nd book in  row that Shell has expressly recommended to me that had a stillbirth within the first 25 pages and I was blindsided. 2 in a row! WTF?

4. My face is in a sad state lately, and as I was talking to Timm tonight I took part in a bad habit of picking at it. As is started to bleed (as it inevitably does) he said 'And now you have a dirty pock-marked face.' When I met this uncharacteristically rude comment with shock and horror he added 'It's...pretty ugly.' WTF?

5. Ever since school started Bella has been having way more tantrums than usual. It seems almost daily we have some kind of drama or issue to contend with. I'm hoping that I can chalk it up to the long days, the transition, the stress, growing pains... and that it will abate soon. It seems that Bella has defied my expectations and in some ways has gotten increasingly more difficult as she's gotten older. WTF?

6. No matter what the condition of my skin, I have always been free of any kind of body acne, mercifully. But lately, even when my skin is getting better, I have started getting small breakouts on my shoulders and back- a first in 29 years. It super grosses me out. WTF?

On My Mind

1. Bella was invited to a birthday party by a girl in her class who she really seems to like, and is on her bus. The problem is it's on a Sunday. Bah. Thus I had to break the news about not attending parties on the Sabbath. It did not go well. It did not go well very loudly and for a long time. It didn't go well when it was brought up again at dinner. I thought I had a great idea- we would throw a back-to-school party so that we could get to know everyone better and I could meet the parents of her would-be friends! How fun! The goody bags could be a collection of Bella's favorite things (to get to know her better) or school themed. My excitement was not matched however. Bella said it would be boring because our house is too small and Julia was going to have a bouncy house. All of my retorts sounded lame in my head: "But...I can make cute invitations..." Or "Ours will have a quaint handmade charm." "Ours will be creative." I don't think Bella and I value the same things when it comes to parties. We will likely never have a bouncy house. And now I regret extending the offer.

2. My girls had their first dentist appointments today. I know, Bella is 5 but she hasn't always had insurance. Anyway, let's move on. The good news is her teeth look good and she did not have any cavities. The bad news is she has a 40% overbite (which I never noticed) so he told me she will need braces. His exact words: "You have a college fund- now start an orthodontic fund." Huh. Actually we don't have a college fund. We have a 'Let's cross our fingers that we can afford the luxuries we have become accustomed to such as paying the mortgage and eating'- fund.

3. I've had a lot of anonymous comments lately and while I maintain that my blog is my journal for my uses only, I love commenters! I can't deny that it is flattering to know that people want to hear what you have to say. So read/stalk/comment on. Thanks for the support!

4. I chipped one of my front teeth from a bad habit of holding my sewing needles in my teeth while I make a knot. I am so disturbed by this. I have no insurance, so I can't have it fixed. I have tried in vain to smooth it out with my thumb nail but that has only succeeded in trimming my fingernail. Michelle reminded me that "Your teeth are not your tools" and I now wholeheartedly agree. The upside is that I have stopped using my teeth for anything other than chewing.

5. I am going to start Weight Watchers again with Linda. I know, Linda. I told her she better make up a back story so they don't all hate and ridicule her. I contend that she pose as a woman who was formerly morbidly obese and has an inspiring story of hard work and sacrifice, thus turning her from a target of abuse to a model Lifetime member.
6. Thanks for the pity Formspring questions. I have no illusion that they are anything but, however I'll take what I can get.

When I Say Too Much.

Miranda started an interesting discussion on her blog yesterday, and although I commented to leave my opinion, I still had more to say, so here it is.

As even the most casual observer should have noticed, I talk a lot. I almost always say too much and ask too personal of questions. I put it all out there, and what you see is what you get. I almost think of it as some kind of defense mechanism- as in, here it all is. Here I am naked before you (luckily not literally), so if you like me, awesome. If not, at least we got that out of the way and I won't waste time investing in a relationship that will hurt me later. Like me or not, but let's start from a clear place of understanding. 

Plus I'm not a shallow person; I am introspective and I am constantly examining my motives and trying to better myself. I need a lot of work.

So in a gesture of full disclosure, here are just a few more things 

Every day I still struggle to fend off depression.

Every day I try to make the decision to be happy.

Getting out of bed is usually the hardest thing I do all day.

If I didn't have kids I probably wouldn't get out of bed most days.

Even though I know sugar effects me adversely, I can't stop eating it.

Yet.

I never feel like I am enough.

I am easily threatened by women I think are better than me.

I hate this quality most about myself.

I think I have a lot of potential, but I am usually too fat/lazy/unworthy to achieve it.

Sometimes I believe I don't deserve to grieve for Lola since the girls I do have drive me crazy.

Motherhood is trying.

But I love my girls, all 3 of them beyond measure.

I usually treat myself like someone I don't like very much- or at least I don't think enough of to take care of.

I really care about people.

I have a lot of empathy, but sometimes I am too tired to reach out.

I feel like I am at my limit just getting through.

Sometimes I am too tired/lazy to wash my face at night.

I always regret it.

Sometimes I resist taking a shower because of the effort involved in getting ready.

When I do, it is like a healing tonic every time and I tell myself what an idiot I am for not remembering this.

I have a penchant for Lifetime movies. They are the perfect background for sewing and crafting.

I feel cheap because of this.

I don't want my husband or my kids to be embarrassed of my appearance.

But I'm not doing much about that at the moment.

Sometimes I think it's because I don't deserve it.
I can't watch commercials about animal abuse.
Sometimes I consider vegetarianism again.
But then I don't.
Sometimes I wish I could be a vet tech again.
But I can't.

I am paranoid that my house smells.

I have a huge mountain of laundry that I've neglected for days because I'd rather sew.

My purse is full of wrappers and crumbs and half-eaten snacks from my girls.

It's really gross.

I've had it on my to-do list all week.

I'm blogging instead.

I have the grossest feet you've ever seen.

They're pretty, ( I think) but cracked and dry like no one's ever seen.

I think I might need transplants. 

Or skin grafts.
No one ever ask me questions on FormSpring and I feel bad about it sometimes.
But then I remember that I probably don't give anyone a chance to wonder anything.
And although I'm pretty weird, I'm not particularly interesting.
I read a lot of self-improvement books.
I have a very small retention rate.
I don't think I do enough for the people I love.

Sometimes, when I am really depressed, I think it would be good to be institutionalized so all I would have to do is sleep and no one would expect anything from me. 

Everyone would already know I was crazy.

Going to church is hard for me.

But I know it is the right thing to do.

And I'm always glad that I did.

I'm usually pretty good about menu planning, but then I'm too tired/lazy to actually cook the meals.

I'd rather stay inside at any given time.

I am usually glad when I go out of my comfort zone and go outside.

Most of the things I enjoy are sedentary.

I am always glad when I do something active.
Even though this list is already very long (and boring), I have to force myself to stop listing my bad qualities.

I am a very slow learner and don't improve myself or my behavior very quickly.

One thing I can say for myself is I don't give up.

I may lay down a lot, but I always get back up and try again.

And now I've given you a lot more reasons not to like me.

But I hope you still do.

And I wrote this list for me. 

For now.

And later.

Around Here

Just some sights around these parts lately...

Baby ladybugs. To try and appreciate how small these are, those leaves are Creeping Jenny. There were about 3 dozen or more of these little guys underneath the plant on my deck.

These are just the books going back that day- Not taking into account the stack next to my bed that I am currently reading, or the stack I picked up from the library the same day.

We're all loving this piano.

This is her smile, or 'Cheese!' face, anytime you turn the camera her way.

Sebastian. Stamps. 5 minutes unsupervised.

Those lips- those kissable, kissable lips! And she gives those kisses so freely and sweetly.


There's a lot of eye-candy around here lately.

Dichotomous

Here are some of my daily thoughts:

  

I need to follow a strict whole foods diet. Absolutely no sugar or wheat. It wrecks havoc on    my system in every way.

Life is for living. I love food and I want to enjoy all of it as part of my life.

I want to lose 65 more pounds and be tiny. Like, beyond a doubt tiny skinny with no room for argument about it. I can wear anything off the rack skinny.

I want to let it go and accept myself for good or for ill, for small or for large, and be an example of acceptance, health and strength for my girls.

I am never going to grow my hair any longer. I love it short and funky and messy and easy. It suits me perfectly.

I think I might grow my hair out. It's looking a little weird.

I want to get up at 5 am everyday and exercise and pick up the house before the girls get up.

I want to stay up late and relish my alone time and wake up as late as possible.

I am okay. I am flawed and I mess up a lot, but it is the total of my parts that make me who I am.

I'm so screwed up. I'm such a loser.

Depression is not who I am, it does not define me, and it is not my fault.

Maybe this whole depression gig is just a weakness on my part. Maybe I am responsible for it after all.

I hate these stupid cats who poop and vomit places and I can't wait until I don't have them anymore. 

I love these stupid cats even though they smell funny and make my sheets dirty.

I'm funny. And cool.

I'm a loser. And a failure.

I want to move near my family somewhere.

I never want to move again.

I want to be thin at all costs.

I want to eat and bake and forget it all.

I am who I am. I can't change the fundamentals of my person, and that's okay.
I need to change and improve every aspect of myself.

I want to be a marathon runner. I want to run 5 times a day. I mean week.

I want to just incorporate normal physical activity into my life without spazzing out about it.

I think I might have a handle on this depression thing. Things are looking up.

I never want to get out of bed again. I'm done.

I kind of have a problem with balance. I think I might have latent schizophrenia.

Anti-Establishment

B has a birthday party to go to today- I don't really know them and i didn't have time to make anything so I'm searching for a toy online at Target. I am so picky: nothing electronic, no liscenced characters when possible, nothing gimicky or stupid or gross, nothing with a gillion parts that will end up strewn around their house, not ugly or frivolous- NOT expensive or elaborate-Something either useful, beautiful, enriching, educational, sweet...I should've made something.

My Day In Court

Today I had the privilege of attending my first court date. Nothing illustrious, just overdue registration on my van so I had to attend traffic court to waive the otherwise $150 ticket. I planned on bringing the girls, as I tend to bring them everywhere. I am loathe to ask for babysitting favors because I personally hate babysitting in most cases, thus I try to save others from a similar fate. Molly however insisted on watching them and I was very grateful. I took my book and looked forward to a few minutes of 'alone' time along with everyone else at the courthouse, but alas, the sheriff deputy promptly told me that reading was not allowed in the courtroom. Huh.
With my plans out the window I searched for other activities to keep me occupied. I compiled the following list based on my observations.

At 9:13 am in Courtroom 1130 of the Charlotte, NC Courthouse on March 5, 2010- I am Grateful That:
1. My name is not 'LaQuinta'.
2. I am not wearing a scrunchie.
3. I do not have a history of repeated failure to appear.
4. I have not frequented the courthouse often enough to be familiar with its layout.
5. I do not need a lawyer.
6. I am not appearing to answer to charges of assault.
7. I did not recognize any friends in the courtroom, giving a shout out.

And finally, on an unrelated note:
8. I am grateful that I do not have to list my relationship status on FaceBook as 'it's complicated.'

Easing My Way In

I don't know why I haven't posted in 2 weeks. Except for Valentine's creating not a lot has been going on, and I think that is precisely the problem. Maybe a bit of boredom? So in an attempt to jump back in I am compiling a very random list of thoughts.

I am on a roll with cooking and baking lately, if I do say so myself. Such as: Potato Soup, Whole Wheat Miracle Bread (with a bit of brown sugar addition), Bran Muffins, Enchiladas, Chicken and Sweet Potato Curry, BBQ Chicken Pizza with Whole Wheat Crust, Denise's Sugar Cookies with buttercream frosting, Red Velvet cupcakes with Cream Cheese frosting- (Cooking Light recipe, simply divine.) I'm sure there are others, but those stand out in my mind right now. Tomorrow- BBQ Chicken Potpie, some baked oatmeal...

Conversation:
Bella, to friend Emily- with this exact pause and emphasis:
"My dad's big.
My dad's strong.
My dad's.....bald."

I currently have disfiguring acne. Seriously. I am nearing 30 and this is the worst I can remember it being since I was on Acutane as a teenager. What gives? I'm sure my diet is a lot to blame since I have had somewhat of an explosion of sugar to my diet in the last couple/few months, bt come on. It's out of control and I wish my FSA covered Proactive. I want to give it a try. If it's good enough for Miss Molly's old classmate Jessica Simpson, it...might be good enough for me.

My plans to make my handmade Christmas gifts all throughout the year have yet to see any progress. The problem is that people keep on having birthdays! Quit it already! I have enough to make without you going and celebrating another year of life. Seriously, some consideration please. And holidays?? Enough already!

I can't wait to get a piano and paint it some awesome green. Also, I've always wanted to play guitar. Also, to me 'alos' has become a word since I always mistype it for also.

I am going to do Super Doubles at Harris Teeter so I need to go get a'cuttin.

Hopefully this eased my entry so I can resume regular blogging about things of no import.

Anti-Social Even on the Internet

I studiously avoid most networking sites or services including Twitter and FaceBook. Obviously, Blogger is an exception since it is my journal and not an advertisement for myself, availing any and all to seek me out. I admit to an aversion to these sites that prevents me from even looking at them-I have not ever looked at FaceBook or Twitter.
This seems a little strange since I am not necessarily a private person. I am a talker and anyone who has had one conversation with me probably knows all they want or need to now about me. I will write about almost anything. (In fact, in response to Jill's request- I wear a 36 D. Before I delivered my kids I was an E and that was before my milk even came in. We're talking personal-size watermelons here people.) Yet despite this proliferation I cringe at the thought of a very specific group of people finding me- anyone from high school.
I did not enjoy high school. That is an understatement. In fact I hated the years that collectively include junior high and high school, puberty, adolescence, all of that. I hated it so much that I dropped out at 16, got my GED and went to community college so I could transfer to BYU by the time I would have been graduating high school. One of the best decisions of my life. Because of this, I alienated a lot of people from my life, as was one of the primary reasons for doing so. I wanted to change my life and make a clean break. High school is not a place for clean breaks or absolution among your peers. I think I made those years unnecessarily difficult for myself. I am a completely different person than I was then and I don't want to reminded of that time of unhappiness.
Since I left high school in 10th grade and haven't seen most of those people since then, I never really gained closure. I left when everyone was at their peak of punkish-ness and thus they are forever frozen that way to me. It is so hard to imagine that they have moved on and become successful, contributing members of society, never mind admirable parents. That thought is mind-boggling to me. Mind-boggling. I know that at least some of them must have grown up to do something worthwhile if only because of the mathematical probability. Perhaps I may even like one or two of them if we met as adults. But I still can't imagine that to be true. In many ways I feel like my life began when I dropped out. Most of my memories and parts of my life that I like to recall are from that point on. Anything remembered from my adolescence is usually explained with a lot of head-shaking and shoulder-shrugging.
Perhaps part of this means that I am afraid of what people will think if they do happen across me. Would anyone even look? Remember me? And if they did would they think kindly of me or remember me as the weird girl who freaked out and dropped out of high school?
I know its idiosyncratic and probably an insecurity on my part, but I don't want to be on display in the online meat market that exists.
Besides all of those reasons, I try to live a simpler life and to me, these typify the rapidly increasing world of technology and voyeurism. I am not against technology and quite enjoy many of its fruits, but not to the degree that most are accustomed. We have a cell phone thanks to my mom, but I never use it and it is, as described by a flight attendant on the loud speaker this summer, a 'Model -T' phone, or looks like its from 1953. While I don't think it is that bad, it is definitely a no-frills phone. No camera, no touch screen, no apps or games of any kind. And voyeurism? I feel about blogs and the like the same way I feel about friends. I don't care about having throngs of friends who are merely acquaintances that I keep on hand or see occasionally to share trivial bits of information or gossip. I much rather enjoy a few select friends that I know well and love. I don't have the time or interest to pursue the lives of people I knew 12 years ago, veritable strangers, who knew me when I was at my worst.
So there's my defense of my anti-FaceBook and Twitter policies. Just musing on that today.

At Odds

I have a problem. I want to be thin(ner), but I also really love food. Why must these be at odds? I love everything about food. First and foremost, it just tastes good. But there's more- I love baking. Cooking-depends on the day- but baking, rapture! I love baking for other people. I love the whole process of baking from start to finish, but especially the middle part that sometimes includes dough! There are some really wonderful things to make out there.
I also want to be thin. Sometimes I wonder, at what cost? Is it really worth it? I'll give you a different answer on different days. And how thin? Maybe I want to settle for slightly plump if it allows me to also enjoy the wondrous array of food this world offers. I mean, food is a basic component of life! It's everywhere! It's unavoidable! It's amazing! And besides all this, I'm fighting biology. Eating sugar literally sends more mood-enhancing endorphins to your brain, which for a depressed person is basically a little shot of happy in every bite. (Hence a high correlation between depression and over-eating-) How can I fight chemistry? You always hear health freaks or diet-do-gooders say that food is fuel, and only fuel. I've been thinking about it and I came up with what I think is a good analogy. Yes, food is primarily a fuel source and the reason it exists is to fuel our bodies. But to relegate it strictly to this purpose is like using sex solely as a means of procreation. Sex exists to create life on earth, however it can also be really fun! (Between monogamous married individuals, of course.) Besides their primary functions both food and sex can be enjoyed for other purposes and should be! Right? Probably the solution to this would be moderation. However, I seem to have a really hard time with moderation. With anything, but especially sugar due to the happy shots it gives. Plus it's really good. Then I think I should just focus on making better choices over time to live an overall healthy lifestyle and not fret over every bite and every calorie. Unfortunately this method is risky and slow.
So you can see why I am at odds. Why oh why must this disparity exist? Why can't I be one of those cursed naturally thin people who get to enjoy the food they like without consequence?

In short

I went on my first preschool tour today.
I have to find a part-time job to pay for preschool. (As well as fill in some persistent gaps in our budget-)
I am reading my second book on sugar, sugar addiction and its detrimental effects.
I have gained approximately 8.5 pounds in the last 3 or 4 days. Reading about my beloved, disgusting sugar and giving it up is sending me into a swirling vortex- the desperate binges of a co-dependent lover continually going back to her abuser, who while ultimately cruel is also temporarily sweet and buoyant.
Despite this, once I kick the habit I may become an ardent preacher of the no-sugar gospel.
We leave for Utah on Wednesday. I'm excited and stressed. We'll be flying to Utah, staying at Michelle's for a few days, then going to Timm's family reunion for a few days, then back to Michelle's for a few days before I take Fiona to Denver for a few days, then back to Michelle's for a few days before we then fly home. See why I'm a bit nervous? We tried Dramamine when we went to the Outer Banks last month and it did not go well. It seemed to have the opposite affect, actually.
In my recent readings diet soda has been referred to the 'new crack', reminding me of a former coworker exhortations that my (then Pepsi One) habit was "Not helping" my dieting efforts- "At all." Apparently it also 'slows you down', which then wasn't such a concern, but now that I'm running is actually a valid deterrent.
Jon Stewart makes me laugh even though I don't always agree with him. Much to my father's chagrin, I'm sure.
So You Think You Can Dance is some of the best stuff on tv in modern times. It furthers my desire to put Bella in dance classes. Or gymnastics. Hence the job search...
Bella had her first swim lesson yesterday.
We have -$1.82 in our bank account. Timm doesn't get a check from CMS (the school district) until Sept. Woohoo!
I am ordering a hybrid bike (comfort meets road bike) soon with my birthday money. I can't wait and the only reason i haven't ordered it already is because we are leaving town soon.
I have too many swirling thoughts to pin any one subject down lately. I need to try and write daily, or at least more often than I do now.
That's all I have to say 'bout that.

Today

I dug out 182 daffodil bulbs with a trowel and my bare hands. I have about twice that many to still transplant.
Molly said my butt looked much smaller.
My neighbor Emily said I was a dream wife.
I weighed in at Weight Watchers and lost .6 pound, for a total of 22.6 pounds.
I stayed up until 3:45 am sewing a birthday present for Sebastian.
I ran one mile in the pouring rain: 13:30.

More to come, I'm sure.