Hey ya’ll.
So, I’m gonna be a full time mom now. Save every other weekend.
She’s 13 and brilliant. And she calls me mom.
Damn.
How do you do this?
Hey there. Long time no see. Just a quick update to let anyone who cares know that I am still kicking. It’s starting to be a long winter. I’m ready for spring. But the ground hog says “nay nay!”
My crochet class has been cancelled. One might think this would propel me into self instruction, but, I say “nay nay”. No ambition. Must be taught. I am waiting for a class reschedule.
The Superbowl is still on. I’m not so much interested. I made the mistake of telling Mr. that I didn’t know who the Patriot’s were playing. He is ashamed to admit he married me, I think.
I updated my blog links. That was exciting. Uh. OK. Not really.
How about a pugshot for your viewing pleasure. ( get it? pugshot? see what I did there? heh.)
I’ve had a couple revelations today.
One of which, is that, I have no girlfriends. There are girls to whom I speak, both at work and at play (read: bar) , and I get on with them quite well, but no one I could call a close friend. A best friend. I thought I had a best good love-me-forever girlfriend, but once the Mr. got sick, I realized how sorely wrong I was. I wish I could say I’m not bitter. But I am.
Also, I have realized that you will be given nothing more than you can handle. And if you are? Well, there’s medication for that. It’s a comforting and disturbing thought, all at the same time.
As an aside, I have realized I am a complete tool when it comes to following written instructions. So, I have signed myself up for a crochet class. I hope that this does not make me realize that I am just a complete tool that has no chance at learning crochet.
When you have no girlfriends, you need a hobby.
Right now? Colbie Caillat and my new stemless wine glasses (complete with sweet pucker-y white whine, I mean, wine) from the Mr. are my girlfriends:
I can’t possibly be the only who noticed how many of her songs on her CD relate to the drinky.
I can?
Perhaps, I can.
Cheers.
Keep your friends close. You never know when they’ll be gone.
I got this for Christmas:
Because I ASKED FOR IT.
And then? I got a Kohl’s gift card. Love that!
So? I bought this! (I bought other stuff, too, but I am hoping that doesn’t contribute to my dorkiness because it was a wallet and socks and…uh…yeah. That’s kind of dorky, too. Never mind.)
And then? I STILL had a Tar-zhay gift card.
So? I bought this!
And that is how you know that I am a dork.
You’re welcome.
*UPDATE*
In case you weren’t convinced of my dorkiness? I have to tell you that I also go a gift card to Jo-Ann Fabrics (DORK!) and I signed up for a class. Crochet I. Starts January 17.
Can’t wait!
j: “Don’t go in the closet in there.”
Mr.: “Why?”
j: “You’re Christmas toys are in there.”
Mr.: “I hope she doesn’t suffocate before Christmas.”
It’s D-pup, ya’ll.
Hello. Still kicking. I just have been busy, and quiet, and I don’t know. Not much to say.
I tried to learn to crochet. I suck at that.
I got a DVR for the bedroom. Oh. Yeah. That’s what I’ve been doing.
I’ve recently rediscovered ebay. That’s what else I’ve been doing.
My Christmas tree is up. Already. Since last weekend.
Tomorrow, I start shopping. Well, I guess I’ve already started, since I rediscovered ebay!
Pointless post. I know.
I remember when I used to talk about sex and motorcycles and drunken escapades with all of my friends.
I’m so getting old.
And rediscovering ebay…
So, one thing about this medication thing is that my mind is quieter. That means that I have a lot less to say. And when I do say something, it makes more sense. And, I think, that makes me kind of boring.
Well, hell.
I ain’t never been popular anyway. Why start now?
So, instead, I shall generate a list (which may be brief) of things that have happened recently. Maybe more for my own recording purposes (I am SO bad at that whole diary thing. Still. Seriously.) than for the whole two people who read me. (Hi!. thanks for reading me! REALLY!!!!!)
1. My mother-in-law passed away. Sad. Very. It was a long time coming. My father-in-law is very sad. More so than people think. Don’t tell Mr. (oops.)
2. We are going to spread her ashes next week. If the weather holds. (Do we still live in Ohio? Because holy hell, it should be snowing by now.)
3. Ashes do not look like ashes. You can see bone fragments. Creepy.
4. My niece is going to be one (1!) soon. OMG. I have a niece. My brother’s baby. Holy cow, when did we grow up?
5. She smells like lavender.
6. She likes when Mr. holds her.
7. Because she can grab his scary biker goatee.
8. I’m going to go measure it, hold on… 4 1/4″. I rike it.
9. Um…brain fart.
10. I bought a book to teach myself to crochet. Because I am a dork. And knitting? Yeah, that needs TWO needles. Crochet = one needle. If I need to hold two, how will I drink my beer?
11. Tomorrow? I buy pumpkins!
12. Nothing. Just couldn’t leave my list at an odd number.
Wew. The wonders of medicine. Long story short, I am now medicated and (miracle alert!) the first (ok. second, they wouldn’t give me the first one) prescription? It actually worked. No shitting. I just went for a follow up yesterday, and my doctor was just pleased as pie that she could charge me $80 to hear I ‘m doing SO. MUCH. BETTER.
Seriously ya’ll. It’s amazing. Even Mr. (soooo close to revealing his real name. not yet. worried about work repurcussions.) has said that I’m not NEARLY as insane as I used to be. Heh.
But yeah. I’m feeling better, thanks for asking. And I really want to try to write more, because it makes me feel better too. But if I don’t, well, so what.
Ima go surf the innernets now. Catch up on the blogs in my list. Oh, and listen to the Indians game with Tom Hamiltion.
Because I am SO not from NY.
I finally convinced myself that it was ok, and even probably a wise choice, to make an appointment to see my doctor to discuss my inability to deal with every day stressors in a rational matter.
She agreed, (Yay! I’m not stupid! Just crazy!) and wrote me a prescription for Paxil. I was to report back in three weeks to discuss any progress.
I rolled into my local pharmarcy, handed over the piece of paper that said “Crazy j, stay out her way” on it, and left because it was a 40 minute wait. Mr. and I ate dinner (chicken cordon bleu - yum) and we set out on our return trip to the pharmacy.
Upon informing the technician at the counter who I was and what I was there to get, I was promptly reminded (as if I should have forgotten so soon) exactly how huge of a piece of stinky shit American health care is. Because my insurance company, with all of their knowledge of my history (none) decided that Paxil was indeed the incorrect medication for me and they suggest I try three generic alternatives and if I don’t well, hey, that’ll be $109.
Well, thank you, you stupid fucking insensitive assholes. It took all of my courage to make that appointment and tell my doctor what was wrong, and I can’t even begin to explain the relief I felt when she said “I think you should try this, I think it will work for your symptoms that you have just explained to me”. And now, I have to call the doctor again tomorrow, which is causing me more stress (Have you ever had a panic attack, fuckers? Have you? I’ll bet not. They don’t feel very good. AT. ALL.) and Lord only knows how I will get myself to fall asleep tonight, dreading the phone call I have to make to my DOCTOR, who prescribed the medication to me, HER PATIENT, to tell her that my prescription company, who does not employ my doctor, is NOT MY DOCTOR AND HAS NONE OF MY MEDICAL HISTORY ON FILE, well, they think I need something else, doc.
And, in case you haven’t guessed it, I don’t exactly have $109 rolling around, and I certainly can’t pull it out of my ass, and I’d like to put my worn out boot up the ass of whomever decided they know more than my FUCKING DOCTOR.
Paxil is for people with anxiety assholes. People who suffer from panic mother-fucking attacks. And you aren’t letting me have it because I don’t have the fucking money to buy because all of my FUCKING MONEY IS PAYING MOTHER FUCKING HOSPITAL BILLS.
God, just fucking kill me now.
