Miss Congeniality

The above title would definetly NOT describe me today. Not by a long shot. Not even if you were drunk from a 3 day non-stop drinking binge and high on crack.

Today I am really, completely depressed. Even the little happy pills my doctor gave me aren't helping today. At least Amy isn't the only one taking 3 giant leaps backwards this week. See what a good pal I am? I'm keeping her company.

I've been fighting this for weeks now. I had been doing pretty good up to this point, but today? Absolute crap. Nothing in particular, just lots of things adding on to one another. I woke up feeling pretty bad as a matter of fact. I didn't want to get out of bed and the day didn't improve from there, either. Lunch was a nightmare-for me anyway. Arianna was acting up at the table, and like ANY responsible mother, I was trying to instruct her on proper behaviour. She decided to take issue and argue the point with me instead of just doing as instructed. It became a debate over table manners with no mediator. Rule No 1: Do not argue with Mom. Especially about ettiquite, cause I don't hold with an overly arguementative 10 year old, sorry. Instead of backing me up, Z told ME "Can you just shut up? I don't want to hear any talking during lunch."

Yes, go on, imagine my gaping look of shock. I'll wait for you.............. Done? Ok.

Before ANY of you say it, yes, he screwed up on a multitude of levels. 1: degraded me in front of the child when I was trying not only to teach her something but also to make a point. 2, by degrading me in front of her by asking ME to shut it and not talk, he took HER SIDE and that is just... WRONG.2.5: by dissing me in front of her, disrespecting me in front of Arianna, the child will wonder "Why should I respect her, even DAD doesn't". Trust me, MY kid will totally rationalize that. 3: For Chrissake, if she has poor tablemanners what will people say? They will say "her mother didn't teach her". HELLO?!!!!!!!! THIS IS MY DAMN JOB HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!! So then Monster was running her mouth nonstop after I shut mine and stared at my plate and I finally said quietly and almost under my breath: "if you want peace and quiet during lunch, then you should tell EVERYONE TO SHUT UP, especially HER, not just me".

Of course he said nothing to his mom. Just me. Why just me? Cause I'm stupid, I swear.

Later, I got another version of "Just be quiet and don't say anything" for a totally different reason. I swear, growing up, my Dad was quite fond of the old adage "Children should be seen and not heard". Forgive me, I'm 33 years old and I'm getting it still. ARRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If I don't hear about an interview or a job this week, I think I'll go completely over the deep end,dammit. Why my sudden desperation? Because darlings, this week the Holy Month of Ramadan starts. The month of fasting. Nothing gets done in Ramadan, I swear. Offices are only open for 6 hours a day so that people can go home to prepare to break their fast at sundown. Everyone is fasting and that equals some really CRAP moods. Can you imagine going to an interview with someone who is fasting (no, not even water from sunrise to sundown) so, hungry and cranky, and probably has no sleep, (cause people stay out till all hours all nights of the week going to gatherings and tents set up at the hotels to smoke shisha (hookah) and play cards and eat, eat, eat, eat and watch entertainment.)? Not bloody likely. In which case, that would mean perhaps a whole another month with no job.

Yesterday I discovered that my bank is, yet again, screwing my account up, those bastards. I just wanted to check and make sure they took the money Z gave me to make my loan payment and lo and behold, there was some very strange numbers and things on the mini statement I printed out at the then closed bank. I paid off and closed my Visa card back in December 2003, and guess what showed up? They are STILL charging me a shitload of fees. Then, for some stupid reason, they took money out of my account in the form of a Visa payment, you know, the Visa card that has been closed for 11 months now?????!!! Stupid British Bank Standard Chartered. YES. I put the name. Why? Because they are bastards and I hate them. Can I change my bank? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, not till I have a JOB, because why? I would have to transfer my loan to said new bank because me not being a local, I have to have a salary transfer direct to the bank I have my loan at. If not? They will do mean things to me, like drag me to court where I don't speak the language, put a hold on my passport, and generally harass the living shit out of me. HATE. THEM. ASSHATS.

You know how I know I'm really depressed? When Monster starts in on her shit at me and I am completely unable to hold my temper in. Yes darlings, you guessed it. I went apeshit on her ass tonight. I know you and I know you are all chomping at the bit for details, aren't you my lovlies?

It was over something so stupid really. But I wasn't gonna shut my mouth, nuh-uh. First off, some background. It was over a little water aquarium picture I have in my Guest bath on a shelf. (on a shelf, cause the whole thing is tiled floor to ceiling) Z bought it for arianna, but she didn't want it in her room, cause she knocked it off the wall one day. This thing looks like a hanging aquarium, does actually have water, and has 3 little fishies and is battery operated so that when you flip a switch, the fishies swim all over the place. It's cute. So, When ari exiled it from her room, I put it in the guest bath back in MAY, since this IS MY HOUSE, INNIT??? So, the fishy thing was there this afternoon but this evening, when I was checking my emails, Ari came and got all bitchy with me and giving me attitude as to WHY I PUT THE DAMN FISHY PICTURE BACK IN HER ROOM ON THE WALL CAN"T I GET IT IN MY HEAD SHE DOESN"T WANT IT IN THERE? (she yet breathes, don't worry) I said "First Missy, Watch your mouth and tone of voice with me!,Second, don't accuse me of moving something if you don't know I did it. and Thrid, STOP SHOUTING AT ME, I"M NOT DEAF!!!!!!!!!!" She said "Oh, sorry, I thought you did it. I don't want it in my room. I said , Ok then, put it somewhere." So she did. IN the bathroom, aparently, that she shares with Monster.

Got all this? Good. Fast forward 2-3 hours. I'm in the kitchen making Z a snack. Ok, one of my famous sandwiches. My kitchen has 3 doors. 1 goes outside. 1 opens and is always open onto the L-shape hallway that leads to the bedrooms and eventually, after a left turn, out my front door or to an alternative door for entering the Living room. Kitchen door 3 opens onto the living room. Directly opposite door 2 is Ari and monster's bathrom at the end of the hall.

There I stand, minding my own business and making Z his snack. Monster comes out of the bathroom and starts SCREAMING AT ME with the most horrible "DIE YOU FUCKING BITCH" look on her face and shaking this stupid fishy picutre at me screeching "Why did you take this down from the wall? Isn't it Arianna's? I put it there, how dare you.... why did you put it in here..........shreik, scream.... " with me just staring at her. and that dear readers is when I just. fucking. snapped.

I think I recall that I had one damn sharp knife in my hand at the time also. I stuck my head in the living room and said to her son "DO YOU HEAR THIS BULLSHIT THAT IS BEING SCREAMED AT ME? IF YOU DON'T SAY SOMETHING THEN I WILL AND YOU REALLY DON"T WANT THAT, NOW DO YOU?" Yes, I was loud, but he listens to the TV with the surround sound on and I was pissed. So sue me. He goes "WHAT?" and I said "Listen to this shit! I DIDN"T DO ANYTHING and I'm getting screamed at for nothing and being accused and she's runnig her mouth at me like this? She should ask first dammit! IM SICK OF THIS FFING BULLSHIT!" (erm, can you tell I'm mad? I may cuss like a sailor on my blog, but in real life? Not so much.) He finally heard and asked what her problem was (notice I didn't say anything to her directly?Good.) then asked me why I moved it around, etc... About this time Arianna came out of her room like "oooh, fight!" and I said "Why do you assume I did it? Why not ask your daughter, Z, what happened and why it was moved and WHO did it?" Monster kept screaming on and on about me, shreiking and shaking that damn picture and Arianna finally said to her, I took it off the wall to her dad." Then Z said to his mom " Who moved it?" she said ""Your damn wife, that..... Cyn"(she refers to me usually as that or It.) He said "Arianna just told me SHE did it." and she said "Oh, I figured It did it as usual". He said to her "before you accuse,scream, and shout, you should ASK instead of opening your mouth next time, hmmmmm? Wouldn't that be a good idea?" and to Ari he said " And you speak up next time!". Then I went and handed him his sandwich, not saying much of anything.

Good Lord, but I want to tear my hair out.

Oh yeah, the other day, she was hearing voices and she saw someone that wasn't there. Arianna actually. Ari awas playing at her cousin's house and monster said she woke up and saw Arianna creeping towards her in the doorway with pillows to come at her, then when she got up and called to her, and looked around, no one was home. I said "It couldn't be Ari, and the door was locked when I just came in. hahaha. you seeing devils too?" She said "Only the one right in front of me, YOU." Well damn. Then I had to tell her that HERE, if I get her admitted to the Psych ward, they will pay ME 200 bucks. She better HOPE I don't get desperate enough. Seeing shit that isn't there and hearing things? walking around talking to herself?

DO I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE SCARED? I THINK I DO. You should have seen her face when she was screaming at me tonight. E-V-I-L. A friend of mine dreamt that when she shook monster's hand, that when monster took her had away, there were maggots on her own hand. That is some traumatizing shit to hear, you know that?

Anyway, I got out for a bit directly after to go pick up N,( the hamster owner, remember?) from the airport. She told me a very funny story about her trip. She and her boyfriend went on a business trip together and I have a very funny story to tell, hilarious actually, but I can't post it here, cause once in a blue moon, Z might read my blog and I promised NOT to tell him, so. If you want to know it, email me or post request me real nicely and I will email it to you. (Make sure I have your email, babies!)

There are a few other things on my head at the moment, and shoulders too actually, but I won't actually go into them here. Just trust me when I say, they are big weights dragging me down.

Icing on my cake tonight? I had a record (for me) of 783 Bulk Mail in my yahoo account. Do you have any idea houw tedious it is to delete all that? Cause sometimes? A real email gets in by mistake, so I have to check before deleting. That is a LOT of SPAM, I swear. and then? On Survivor? They voted out my FAVORITE Player. The hot one, the smart one, the gorgeous one. Waaaaaaaah.


*And for the record? Z has told me (Cause I know what some of you will say) that he will NEVER EVER get his mom out. (ie I don't like it, take my own options or deal.)So basically, if I stay, I'm stuck till she kicks it.

Bathtime

I guess I’m on a roll about my cats lately but to be honest? I just couldn’t NOT post this little bit of funny. No way. Y’all would NEVER forgive me.

So, without further ado……..

Z and I were washing and grooming the 2 boys and Big Mama Isis. (actually she’s tiny as hell, but lots of attitude) It was bath time. I have to help because, well, if I don’t, he might end up killing one of em. He’s awfully heavy handed and rough with them unless they sit still… yeah, cats sitting still in a bath. Well, Max, my big lug, who, for the record is a flame point Himalayan Persian cat. He is a very big boy. I kid you not. He’s about the size of a partially grown cocker spaniel and damn heavy. His head is HUGE. Big ass cat. Anyway, Maximus, the big dork, snuck out of the house and flopped in the garden. My Persian cats are housecats y’all. These are pedigree, longhaired cats and cats like that and the yard? Make for a tangled mess that I have no patience to try and fix normal again. Anyway, if Max had flopped in the grass it wouldn’t have been such a big deal but where did he flop? In the newly empty flowerbed that is nothing but dirt and manure, the stupid bastard. I think he did this little outing right after he had bathed himself cause he was well, covered in the dirt and it was stuck to his fur. Sigh.

So, into the bath he went. He is generally pretty good. Usually just sits and meows a lot, particlary at ME and it sounds just like “Moooooommmm, oooooowwwwwwww,moooooooooooooooom”. Really. So, Z was soaping him down real good, 3rd shampoo and I was holding him and petting him and keeping him calm. Max, not Z! So then Z is soaping Max’s tummy and then he shouts out ………

Are you ready for this?


Are you SURE????????????????

Z shouts out “Ohhhhhhh Shitttttttttttttttttt!!!! Ewwwwwwww yeck! Shit I touched his penis! Fuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!*gag, retch, heave, shudder* Damn… gross…ewwwwww…. I touched it….*more gagging and choking*”

This statement, shouted out loud, sent me in to absolute FITS of laughter. While I was laughing very loud and quite hysterically at him and the look on his face… his gagging and retching noises making me laugh even harder he jumped up and started scrubbing his hands with soap to wash them and , oh, I don’t know, perhaps scrub the skin off them? This made me laugh even harder and I started telling Max, “Hey big boy, I bet this is the BEST bath you EVER got, huh baby?” and he was just looking at me with those huge big blue eyes while I laughed in his little furry kitty face and hearing Z say “oh SHUT UP, will you? *Gag*” . I couldn’t stop though, I just couldn’t.

Come on, do you really blame me?

Testing, Testing……..

I was kind of worried there for a while. I keep finding myself checking to make sure my phone is working. It is getting extremely ridiculous how I drag my mobile (cell phone) around with me. Bathroom tinkle trip? Yup, there. Shower? Yup, close to hand. Kitchen for a glass of something? Yeah, there too. But I was really beginning to wonder if the damn thing was working……

Then Z called. Whew! At least it works.

You know the old saying “A watched pot never boils”? Well, the same goes for the damn phone too! Of course, when it does ring and it’s the employment agency…. I get ALL HAPPY. For a while. Although they haven't called me in 2 weeks exactly. Sigh. So.....

As you might imagine, no, still no job. !@&*(^%%$*^%$^%&

On the bright side though, I got in one of my cleaning fits the other day.

Typically, when I get "down" - okay, depressed- this uncontrollable urge to clean posesses me and then I will, for instance, yank EVERYTHING out of the closet, so that it is BARE, scrub and clean everything, including the walls and the shelves, and then put everything back in all neat and OCD arranged-more so than before even. I do this with the kitchen cabinets also from time to time. But the usual recipient of my cleaning fit? The floors. A big-ass bottle of Clorox Clean-Up, a huge stiff brustle broom, and a bucket of clean hot water and a mop. Most of the house is tile excecpt for monster and Arianna's bedrooms, so, you can imagine the extent of my endeavors, no? Z will typically walk in after one of these fits and say "Oh, Cleaning Fairy visited again, did she?" To the ladies that read my blog, yes, he has survived that smart-ass comment to say it another time.

And where are my cats during all this furious floor cleaning? I've stuffed them all in the guest bathroom with litter, food and water until I'm done and ready to do that floor-last. Why? Do you think I want paw prints on my spotless floors before they are dry? HELL NO! They would do it just to spite me. Well, maybe not Miss Scarlett, my GORGEOUS little mostly red Calico-tabby girl. Fluffball. Scarlett purrs like a Harley Davidson, has big butterscotch colored eyes and likes being carried like a baby. She obeys me like a trained dog. I swear. I call her, she comes. She is on something she shouldn't be, I tell her "Scarlett, DOWN!" and down she comes. She also likes to swing under my wrought iron glass topped coffetable. Yes, on the iron bars, the loon. I love her to pieces. The other day, she had to go potty and the door to the litter box was closed. I was on the computer and she came, meowed at me I asked her "WHAT missy?" and she turned, walked a few steps, looked back at me and meowed. I got up and followed her and she walked right to the door, looked up at me and meowed again, then stood up on her hind legs with her front paws pushing on the door. I'm not stupid, I took the hint.

She also has a Cheetos & a french bread habit, but that's another story. (What? She is also a sucker for peach yogurt. My cats junk vs healthy food pecadilios is well balanced!) To the cat haters out there...... shut up. I love her and her big daddy Maximus (Max) too. It isn't as if I don't like dogs too for chrissake! I LOVE dogs. Remember, I love most ALL critters. (excecptions:reptiles of any sort, insects except ladybugs and butterfilies, and rodents.)

Yeah yeah, I know, just call me Ellie May.

WAND MONKEY THE BASTARD

Remember my post last week about Wand Monkey leaving on sabbatical in December? Well guess what?

He’s gone. For good. Bye bye. Finito. Arevadercci. Adios Bendeho (yeah, I meant that). Aloha. Masalammeh you shithead. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass…. Wait, scratch that, I hope it DOES hit you on the ass on the way out, ya big FREAK.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, that’s better. Do I sound irritated? Good, cause I am!

He left without a word. Sneaky so and so. He just took off. And guess who is taking over his patients? His mentor. The very conservative one. The Dr. I started out with in the first place, and then when he decided he was leaving, he dumped me on Wand Monkey. So. I will name names just so we can keep things straight, shall I? The Disappearing Wand Monkey’s name is Dr. Hatem. Sarcastic Wand Monkey is Dr. Raouf. Actually, I bet if he looks at my file, Raouf will say “You’re STILL not pregnant?”followed by “Why did he do that? And why did you take _____ and what about______???” and I will just end up whimpering in his face. He is older, and honestly? Adorable. His hair is like cotton it is so white and fluffy. He is the doc that did the hellish Laprascopy on me 2 years ago exactly.

One good thing about Sarcastic Wand Monkey….. he is gentle, bless him. I STILL remember the internal exam he gave me when I was in pain, he was apologizing left, right and center and calling me ‘poor darling’ and saying ‘I know dear, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Im done now’. Yes my dears, I’m trying to find a silver lining in all this.


You know? I can’t WAIT to tell him the specialist asked why he didn’t suggest ovarian drilling *shudder, retch, gag* 2 years ago and was questioning his choices. THAT will piss him off. Heh.

Well, I’m not gonna see him till I have an INCOME, that’s for sure. I still can’t believe Wand Monkey #1 took off. He lives around the corner, the schmuck. Feaking asswipe. I’ve been through a hell of a lot with him. Couldn’t even say BYE?

Now that, my friends, is an Asshat with a capital “A”!

In the meanwhile, I’m off to go googlesearch how to make a voodoo doll of that little gap toothed wand monkey schmuck. Now where did I put those stickpins?????

Say WHAT?

It’s a funny world my friends where the strangest things can happen. Case in point.

This morning my Sister In Law ‘Shem’ won some money. Heh. SOME. Hahahahahahaha (The SIL that lives here that I get along fine with that has always been my favorite, even when things became strained for a time between us because of her mom’s antics when we moved here. She woke up eventually. Things aren’t like before, but they are better at least. She’s very well off. She is the grandma of the triplets I mention so often by the way. She is wealthy, has her own businesses with a partner who is more like family, but that’s another story.) Anyhow…. This morning monster comes pounding on the door first, then flies in my room waking me up screaming “Shem” won money! SHE WON MONEY!!!!! (Me, naked and sleepy, diving under the covers….can you just imagine??) Me: “Huh? Money? Won? Huh???? How much?”. SAY WHAAAAAAAAT???????? She won the amount US$375,000.00 in a raffle/lotto type draw and found out this morning when the phone call came.

Yes, US$375,000.00! I should have such damn luck, I swear! I’m happy for her, but jeez! Listen to the damn CIRCUMSTANCES will ya?

She went to Abu Dhabi (an Emirate near Bahrain in the Persian Gulf) 2 weeks ago today to do plastic surgery with this Fancy (yes, with a capital F) Famous French plastic surgeon from Paris who was visiting. She had a breast reduction/lift (and I am SOO JEALOUS. They are SO. Damn. Perky. I TELL YOU! Waaaah) and body sculpting lipo. Her boobs were actually larger than mine, if you can imagine anything bigger than my G-cups, hmmm? (Is there such a thing as H cup?) And she is only 5’1 and very small framed. It was very Dolly Parton-esque naturally. Now they are lovely and perfect. And PERKY dammit. Sigh. Ok, so, anyway, on her way back through the airport, they have this lotto draw thingie… some of them are you buy a raffle ticket for a luxury car, or you choose numbers on a computer screen and enter your contact info and it gives you a receipt and blah blah. She did both of these while waiting to board her flight in Duty Free, all bruised and swollen and high on pain meds to fly home 4 days after surgery. She picked the lucky numbers and got the phone call this morning.

Congratulations ‘Shem’! Never mind that she almost had a freaking heart attack when they told her she won. They woke her up too! But WHAT a GREAT way to wake up, no?

I sent her a SMS message of congratulations cause her phone was so busy nonstop. I joked that it looks like she will be doing that mini facelift and other minor things she wanted to do next a lot sooner than later now! Just last night I was at her house and she was saying; “Now I have to figure out how to get the money to do the other things I want to do!”

Funny how things work for some people, isn’t it? I hope some of her luck rubs off on me! I just want a good job dangit and maybe a baby? Yes, in that order.

The Birthday Report

Thank you for all your lovely birthday wishes.

Carrie Jo, I swear I didn't delete that second comment, hell if I know what happened.

Now, on to my report....

Monster had a total hissyfit that I was going out. She doesn't like it when we go out. EVER. What burns her ass even more is when AMEEN takes us out. It burns her ass. She was screaming and slamming door and cussing at me. I was wandering around humming to myself. screw. her.

Dinner was lovely. SO were the pitchers of strawberry margeritas! I was still on my first one when the horrible singer and her gutair and computer accompaiment started in on that 70's hit "I WILL SURVIVE". Az was sitting next to me and Ameen on my other side. Az's hubby was across from Az. He saw us goofing around singing the song and he motioned to the singer with the mic to come over... she came and next thing I knew, it was in my hand! I'd like to state that the rest was crawling with Navy guys...ie: lots of Americans, which is one of the reasons I chose it. It was as close to home as I was gonna get!

Anyway, seems that Az didn't know all the words, and I ended up singing out my heart all by myself! Heads started turning and soon people were clapping along with the song. I could NEVER forget the words... I called this song "Mama's song" cause it was on the radio constantly just after my parents divorced and we were driving around looking for apartments. I would sing it to her in the car and say "This is YOUR Themesong MOM!". So, I had a nice round of applause when I was done.

When I started singing, Z was sitting across from me hiding behind BOTH hands. Shortly after, he was starting at me open-mouthed in shock! Yeah, THAT will teach him to be afraid I embarass him! HAH!

Many....MANY.......MMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNYYYYYYYY drink refills later-even Z had 2!-(Z, who NEVER EVER DRINKS AT ALLLLL) we finally crawled home.

Heh. HE had a hangover at work the next day. ME? Who had much more than he did? Nada. I was totally fine.... as usual. Now, on to my actual bday.

Flash forward through my tipsy sleep. I wake up to find Arianna prowling my room. She informs me that I am NOT allowed out of bed. I said "Can I at least go to the bathroom?" she allowed that. Gracious of her, no? Her condition was that I had to get right back in when I was done. I obeyed, wondering what she was up to.

She came in a few minutes later with breakfast in bed. Or her version of it. Tea and toast. Aw. I don't think I've had breakfast (or any other meal for that matter) since I was sick in my teens and my MOM brought for me. WOW. She also brought me a Birthday Card she made for me herself from red construcion paper. Tucked away in the card was a cardboard heart she had cut herself and colored (both sides). My card read as follows:

Happy Birthday Mom. Dear Mom. This is the best day for me and for you EVERY year. It is so nice to spend time with you and I enjoy it and it makes me happy. I love you!!! Love, Arianna

So I am sure you all understand that I was very teary eyed when I read this. I am SO saving this for when I am, hopefully, a very old and cute old lady so I can read it over and over again.

Later, when my hungover hubby came dragging home from work (after reading all of your lovely B-day wishes on my blog, cause he can be a nosey cuss sometimes) with a pretty boquet of flowers in hand. This caused MUCH more cussing and slamming of doors on the part of his mom, even though he tried to hide and sneak them in the house so she wouldn't see. They were very similar to a boquet I saw the other day. Beautiful sprays of creamy white centered Dendrobian Orchids with deep magenta petals, some hewge other orchid that I can't think of the name of, and pale peach roses. I love dendrobian orchids. I had white ones in my wedding bouquet along with roses and that same huge orchid as well. LOTS of green in my birthday bouquet also. He did good.

Yesterday was quiet. Well, other than the screaming, slamming of doors and CURSING shreiking of Monster. and....excecpt for my computer going completely PSYCHO (musta been MIL vivbes) cause it wouldn't let me post ANYTHING. damn thing. Freaky ass computer. Hrumph.

Again, thank you all for the birthday wishes. I was feelin all loved and special. Thank you all very much. A BIG HUG for each and every one of you. MWAH. (what the hell, a kiss too!)

Getting Older

So, my birthday is tomorrow. I’ll officially be 33 at 7:41am EST. (Like the way I drag out turning a year older?) woo. hoo.

What am I doing for my birthday? Nothing much really. Well, Z’s friend Ameen-who he’s known since childhood (who, shortly after meeting me and a few times since said “Divorce this asshole and marry ME instead! He doesn’t deserve you! Haaaaaaaaa!)ALWAYS remembers my birthday and so, for the last month has been planning to take me out for my birthday to dinner , like he does every year since I moved here, and said to Z “Yeah, you can come too.” Since when he asked what we are doing, Z replied with a shrug “I dunno”. So, Ameen will take me out for my birthday a day earlier (tonight) since he has family obligations on my actual birthday. So yes, I am going out to dinner for my birthday, but no, my husband is not involved in the planning-by his own choice- in any way.

Arianna came in and jumped in my face the other morning in bed, then got all snuggly then said in a sing-song voice “Who’s birthday is this weeeeeeeeek, hmmmmm??????” about 10 times with a goofy smile on her face. I love this kid, I swear.

What is it about birthdays that turn us all introspective? With each passing year it gets worse and worse, it seems. At least to me it does.

I find myself thinking about what I’ve done with and in my life so far and what I plan to do. Or perhaps I should say HOPE to do. Or what I maybe SHOULD have done. Or should be doing……Ugh, it’s enough to give anyone a panic attack, I swear! *Scrambles for that “emergency” xanax*

I look at what goals I set for my adulthood I have reached and which ones I haven’t, and which ones are just unrealistic. I find myself being more concerned about my older years now and stability for the future. I’m a planner by nature, so I can’t help myself.

This whole infertility thing really gets to me with each year I add on too. Talk about a biological clock ticking! Damn! Except it’s more like a clock attached to a B*mb. Tick-tock-tick-tock and I don’t know which damn wire to snip to get the clock to stop ticking away. I’ve been thinking about this since I was first diagnosed with PCOS at 15. You do the damn math honey! That’s a heck of a lot of years. I think that is the most frustrating thing for me getting older…. I know my eggs have a general expiration date, except I don’t know exactly when that is… and THAT is kinda scary.

I had really hoped to have a couple of kids (3) by this age. 1 down, 2 to go. I’d be happy with one more, but if by some fluke of science or God’s graciousness I were to have twins, I’d be a happy camper…. And DONE. Of all my goals I’ve set for myself, this is the one thing that really sticks in my craw that I haven’t accomplished yet. Notice I said “yet”. Cause I am a stubborn and determined thing. But damn me it’s frustrating.

I’d also planned that Monster would NOT be living with us still. You ALL know where I am on that goal. That is the UNREACHABLE GOAL. The impossible, short of me leaving, goal. When I got engaged, I mentioned this, and I was promised “a couple of years”. Y’all, I define a “Couple” as 2 or 3 years. NOT 14. It was just a hush up comment. Boy am I a sucker. Hindsight is a bitch, no?

I’d like to have my own home. A house. I don’t really care where. It looks like that MIGHT maybe be a possibility in the next year, fingers crossed. (Long story) But I don’t want to get my hopes all up and all, you know? Yeah, I thought you might. Counting chickens and whatnot.

It pisses me off that I’m gonna be 33 and jobless. This is SO unacceptable. I’ve been working since I was 14 years old, dammit. Z told me a few weeks ago “I bet you will have a nice job by your birthday”. Well honey, unless a miracle happens in the next 24 hours or so, it don’t look like it.

Lets see, that book I always wanted to write? There are about 12 good solid chapters written (with a S*hitload of ideas rolling in my head so fast I can’t get them down fast enough, but there are some misc. notes also). So that is something, no? YEAH!

This blog. Do you know, I never, ever would have thought I would do something like this, but I find that I love it, and I am quite proud of it. Blogging makes me happy. This blog is very close to my heart. Many people in my “real” life don’t know about it. The only person in my family that knows about it is my Mom. NO ONE is Z’s family know about it. (Can you just imagine?? *shudder*) A few old friends (Cat, RoseAnn, Haifa) know, but not many. I am very open on my blog. I don’t hold much of anything back at all. Pretty much what you see is what you get. I’m serious, introspective, funny, SILLY as HELL, cuss a bit, am loving and caring and awfully playful. All the different sides of me come out here. When I’m sad, you know it. When I’m depressed you know it. When I’m happy you know it. When I’m mad… it’s real obvious. When I’m playful… you sure as hell know it! This is my haven. It isn’t all fancy schmancy like I would like it to be….yet. My next plan? (cause you know I HAVE to plan) To move on up to TypePad eventually with my own domain name (Like, once I’m again gainfully employed). Blogger.com sometimes really pisses me off. Ok, frequently pisses me off. Who knows, maybe one day I will end up turning this into a book. I would have to change the names to protect the not-so-innocent, but hey, you never know!

My birthdays cause me to miss my Nana greatly. The only thing worse than my birthday? Christmas. But I know she’s watching over me.

On the upside, and most importantly, I’m relatively healthy with nothing SERIOUSLY wrong (that I know of). Well, excecpt for this dang infection and hacking cough that just won't bugger off!! For a while, I didn’t think I would make it to 30, so to be sitting here almost 33 is quite an accomplishment. I had a rough patch there for a while. But I figure that God must have SOME plan for me, so I’ll know what it is when He is good and ready to let me know.

I have some amazing friends in my life. Old and new. Some that I didn’t have last year. Amazingly some genuinely wonderful people I’ve met by blogging, so my life is richer by having known you. Amalah, Genuiune, Mindy, Chris, Ollie, Hula, Kim, Cheryl b., Saz, Lee, Carrie Jo, Martha, and Leigh. To the rest of you that I might have forgotten to mention, you know who you are! Y’all are “All that AND a bag of chips!!” *triple Zorro snap* Aw what the hell, dip too!

So here I am, alive and kicking in 2004. Please God 2005 is better tho!

I have a feeling that Costrina might just serenade me with the special "Birthday Song" we created when we worked together with Molly. Heheheheheheeeeeee. Did you all know that I can sing "Happy Birthday" in 4 langueages PLUS a very vulgar made-up version too?

Is it too much to want a Pinata? I feel like smacking the crap out of something with a bat. I'll share the candy!

Hilarious! Sad, but Hilarious!

Today my lovelies have I got a post for YOU!

From time to time I like to post about stupid people tricks I hear about in the news or entertainment industry or sometimes, right here in my own backyard, so to speak. This is freaking HILARIOUS, hence the brilliant and witty title of my post today!

So you all be good readers and go pee first before you read any further. Go on, I’ll wait for you…………… Ok, you back? Good. Now put down that glass of wine, soda, milk, coffee, whatever (Genuine, for you, DO NOT DRINK THE WHISKEY WHILE READING THIS!), cause we don’t want you snorting out of your nose, now DO WE? No.

Ahem!

Around 6am today I was fortunately deep asleep. What woke me up was the lack of air conditioning. (I am very temperature sensitive when I sleep – ie: heat no good) I groggily ask Z, who, bless his soul is going to do the school run “Whaaa? No A/C?……huh?… mumble… bleh”. Z:”Nope.” Me: “Electricity dead again??” Z: “Yeah” Me: “Stupid Assholes”. Z: “-----“.

I try to doze off and on fitfully, since I didn’t sleep last night, AS USUAL. Finally, I give up… waiting for the electricity to come back on. One hour…. Two hours….and I’m kind pissed by hour #4 so I send a SMS message on my mobile to Z, N (Hamster owner), and Az, (Triplets Mom) asking roughly “Do you have elect or is the whole country dead again cause it’s 4 damn hours now?”

From Z, I get no response, which you will understand WHY in just a minute or so. From N I get a PHONE CALL that went like this:

N: ‘Hi! Didn’t you KNOW?’
ME: ‘Hi, um, know WHAT?’
N: ‘ You mean Z didn’t TELL you? Figures.’
ME: ‘No, so why don’t YOU tell me, hmmmm?’
N: *snickering* ‘Your house is the only one without electricity! Grandma had the garden hose on the front porch this morning and…..she poured a ton of water on the electricial panel & circuit breaker box there.(Y’all? It’s as tall as I am, 5’7, and has a painted wooden door that is pretty tightly sealed) Flooded it, and then it exploded.’
ME: * sputtering* ‘WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? It…. EXPLODED?’
N: ‘Yeah.’
ME: ‘Why the HELL did she pour water on the fucking ELECTRICAL PANEL OF ALL PLACES?’
N: ‘You sure you wanna know?’
ME: ‘yeah….’
N: ‘she was killing ants’
ME: ‘-------------‘
N: ‘U there?’
ME: ‘ uh-huh, sorta…there’s 2 cans of RAID next to the elect panel! What the hell?’
N: ‘who the hell knows?’
ME: ‘She could have been electrocuted! What dumb ass pours water near electricity? ON ELECTRICITY??”
N: ‘No such luck’ (this is her granddaughter that she hates, remember)
ME: *more muttering and sputtering*
N: ‘Call Z and see if he will admit it to you!’
ME: ‘Ok.’

I call him and he tells me. THEN he tells me what the compound manager has said to him. The WHOLE panel has to be replaced, BUT, they can’t do anything because the panel is flooded with water. So we have to wait for it to dry. I got FOUR phone calls from the manager telling me off about this saying that this has NEVER EVER happened in this compound or any of the other properties they own. HE told me that it could have possibly caused an electrical fire or something or burnt up the wiring in the walls, so we are lucky. I apologize profusely but ask can he PLEASE rush the fixing a bit?

Monster is a quiet as a mouse in her room, except for the odd muttering under her breath “But I ALWAYS DO THIS!”.

Az then called me having NO idea what G-ma did to our house. I told her right as Z sent her an SMS message on her cell phone. She read the message to me aloud, then said “FUCK! What the FUCK was G-ma doing??? She is nuts. She needs to see a freaking shrink ASAP. Damn.Go sit in my house in the a/c. NO WAIT! You’re SICK. DON”T GO NEAR MY BABIES! Sit in the heat. Hahahaha.” I told her “Look sukah, that’s WHY I haven’t been over to your house in like, 2 weeks!” She said “oh, ok!”.

People, we had to wait till late afternoon. When Z came home from work, we had to go present ourselves to the Management. I chickened out and sat in the car. 5 minutes later, Z came back out rolling his eyes and looking embarrassed. It turns out that the manager came to the house and asked Monster as best as he could what happened and she tried to blame the gardener and his sprinkler. Then he pointed out to her the amount of water still in the panel and told her, NO. She finally had to admit what she did. Thing is, when the Mgr was trying to tell Z, he was laughing hysterically in Z’s face. He just couldn’t get over the fact that she poured the water on it and he told him so…..repeatedly. Heh. Z told me when he got in the car “yeah, he couldn’t believe it, but that’s because he’s never run into a villager from Shiraz before!”

All I could keep thinking, the whole time, over and over was: “I am SO blogging this!”

His wisdom revealed

Well NOW I think I understand why my long-anticipated vacation was dashed to bits 2 months ago by the loss of my job. Yes, HE works in mysterious ways and I think I know what He was up to now.

Now I don't claim to hear the voice of God or his angels or anything, but even I can take a hint, ya know? His message to me did not come in the form of a vision or a burning bush, but in the form of a CNN News weather report.

Yes, He truly IS amazing, no? Do you think I'm being sacreligious? Don't. I'm a good Irish Catholic here people!

See, I was wondering WHY OH WHY (and this was often in my prayers too) did I lose my job, therefore cancelling my very long overdue trip back home to the states. I haven't seen my Dad in 17 years, he just turned 74 on Sept 16th, and he is pretty ill. I am actually very blessed to still have Dad around, he is so ill. I was planning to visit him to start off with, (and my brother that lives near him in Ft. Lauderdale) then work my way across the country to Denver to visit friends, and then on to Los Angeles to see Mama and my friends. But my plan? To start off my visit with my Dad, who lives in West Palm Beach, I planned to arrive at Miami Int'l Airport day after tomorrow, so that I could be in the city of my birth, with my Dad, on my Birthday, which is this Thursday.

It would seem that God, in his infinite wisdom and being all-knowing, KNEW what he had planned for the poor Floridians this hurricane season 2004. *crosses self*

See, if you will recall, Hurricaine Charlie a few weeks ago hit land in West Palm Beach. It looks like Hurricaine Jeanne - a much stronger storm - is going to come on land in just about the same place. Hmmmmmm, I'd really rather see my home state in a better condition rather than in an extreme State of Emergency, if you know what I mean? Jeanne is supposed to come ashore sometime tomorrow or early morning Monday. Yes kiddies, about the same time I would have been ATTEMPTING to land at MIA. Hmmmmm. Yes, definetly the job loss was a big ole NEON sign: "Cyn, DON'T GO HOME FOR A VISIT JUST YET!".

Coincidentally, the last time I went through Miami, when I tried to surprise my Dad was in September 1992. We were going on a Carribbean cruise for a week departing from the Port of Miami and I thought I would surptise Dad, so I didn't warn him. BIG MISTAKE. I flew in to MIA with Z and a pack of friends for the cruise about 2 weeks after Hurricaine Hugo devastated Miami. It was depressing. He had evacuated for the hurricaine, and apparently all the water brought termites to life in his house, so it was under a fumigation tent when I was calling to tell him I was in Miami.

The bright side was that the hotel we were supposed to stay in was flooded and had such severe water damage on all floors, so Norwegian Cruise Line put us in the Fontainbleu Hilton on the beach instead. People were whining at the airport when the cruise line rep informed us and I said "HEY! THIS IS A PRIME HOTEL! Stop yer whinin y'all!!" Woooohooooo! Loveley hotel with many nice memories for me when I was little. Dad loved to take us there all the time. Anyway, that trip was the week of my 21st birthday.

A few intersting things happened on that cruise.

#1) The boyfriend-girlfriend couple of the 6 others with us broke up right before we left LA on the flight. Can you imagine a trip with a couple that has just broken up, paid in full for the non-transferrable vacation package? Oh. Joy. Quickie room re-assignment. Aka, nightmare from hell.

#2) Before we checked out of the hotel to board the ship, we had time to kill, and Carol, our ALWAYS HUNGRY friend HAD to eat, so we ended up sitting in a Burger King. The genuis Carol forgot that she had put her wallet on her tray, and when we left she, like the good customer she is, dumped her trash in the garbage bin. Wallet included. When did she realize that she didn't have her wallet? 2nd day at sea right before dinner. We spent most of the next day, our first day off the ship on the beautiful island of St. Martin looking for the damn AMEX office so she could pick up her replacement card and travellers checks. Oh yeah, with the bickering broken up couple.

#3) On September 30th, my birthday, our ship sailed through the Bermuda Triangle. I have certification from the Captain and the Navigator stating it, as a birthday gift, so THERE!

#4) Also on September 30th, I solidified my everlasting love of NCL's 'Bahama Mama' drink recipie. My friends bought me one after another over and over again. I don't remember MUCH after dinner when we started drinking. Well, not much other than me saying "Where's Issac? Gimmie another one Issac! Where's Doc? Where's Gopher? Heeeeeeeeeee!" (Que Love Boat theme here). Ok, well that and the limbo contest. (no, I didn't win, ok?)

If y'all love me, you will FIND ME THAT DAMN RECIPIE, cause it is my favorite evvah drink in the whole wide world. And..........

#5) A Tropical Storm cropped up RIGHT where our ship was almost at the end of our cruise. We couldn't outrun it. The crew never told us what it was until the next day when we had finally sailed out of it. If they had told us, perhaps we (yes, ME included in this WE) would NOT have been hanging onto the light fixtures and over the ships railing (with one foot hooked around it for "safety") at the stern of the ship (which looked like Titanic, btw) to watch the waves crashing against the hull wildly. (Hey, we were quite sober, but it was fun and very pretty!) The storm picked up during dinner, which looked like we were on a gigantic teeter-totter in the formal dining room. One side of the dining room Up the other down, up-down, up-down. It was kind of comic. The stern antics were after dinner while it was still relatively mild. When it started raining on us on deck we decided to get our soggy asses in.

I am proud to say that I didn't get seasick. When the storm got SO bad that I couldn't walk without being thrown bodily into the nearest wall, I decided to go stuff my butt in my bed with the lovely Optional Side Rails LONG after most of my shipmates had scurried off to their rooms. The ship we were on was, at the time, the largest passenger ship afloat. (The Norway) The way the ship was groaning and creaking in the strengthening storm was a bit disturbing, I will tell you that. Of course when I got back to our cabin (Z continued wandering around with the video camera taping) and got in my bunk, I discovered something else interesting and to be honest, I was a bit concerned too.

Our stateroom was pretty high up in the ship. Even so, I realized just how bad the storm was in the relative quiet of the cabin (other than the ship sounding like it was gonna fall apart, big iron monster that she is). I realized that I could hear water hitting the hull right behind my head as the ship was tottering from side to side like a toy boat. THAT was... upsetting. I said a prayer and passed out listening to the sound of the water behind my head. When we woke up, it was smooth sailing and calm seas. That is when we found out that the previous nights adventure was a tropical storm!

Did I ever get to see Dad that trip? Nope. Boy was he pissed that he missed my visit too. So now, even though he was very dissappointed that I have had to delay my trip (and I am too!), I guess I am meant to see my birthplace not all wrecked and damaged, huh? Ya think?

The Adventures of Wand Monkey

The saga continues……

For those of you long time readers, you will immediately know to whom I refer. For y’all that are fairly new to my blog and haven’t yet read my archives…. Shame on you! (haha. Just joking!) Wand Monkey is my term of endearment for my OBGYN/IVF Specialist. Ok, he’s an IVF Specialist, but I also see him for my Gynae needs, cause frankly, once I’m comfortable with a doctor that deals with my cootchie, I tend to stay with him, which brings me to my post today.

A little birdie told me that Wand Monkey, MY Wand Monkey is thinking of going on a year sabbatical starting this December. Yet another little birdie told me that he might just not ever come back.

I’m SO fucked, y’all. (and NO, I’m NOT enjoying it either)

It’s true that he hasn’t managed to get me preggers after 4 IVF tries. But generally speaking he DOES have a very high success rate. Actually, I’m kind of the oddity. He usually succeeds in 3 tries or less. Every time he sees me, he sees his own failure. Yeah, he’s egoistic that way. The GOOD thing about him is he is a risk taker in the field of infertility. No, he doesn’t put the health of the patient at risk (Hence IVF 4# being cancelled on my poor ass), but he also will not cancel an IUI, for example if he is afraid the woman could end up with a multiple birth (say, twins or triplets, for example). His predecessor and mentor was one of these wussy ones that don’t want anyone to have a twin by accident. But also, MY Wand Monkey has MUCH higher success rate than wussy boy EVER did. I need one of these, a risk taker. Not some wussy that cancels the cycle.

SO yes, I am freaking out now. Particularly considering how I am again the evil mommy that doesn’t give Arianna a little brother or sister and it’s “ALL MY FAULT” apparently. (She was ranting to her dad and SOBBING for over 30 minutes the other night while I was at the wake) Yes siree Bob. SO what do I do NOW? Well, besides kick WM’s ass into next year since he didn’t have the BALLS to tell me himself. It isn’t as if we aren’t NEIGHBORS or anything. (He lives about 5 houses away from me) He is SO busted.

Maybe I should have Arianna go tell him off? Yes! THAT is an idea. Let him get a dose of her wrath for a change, dammit. He loves her to pieces too. Yeah, I’ll tell her to go have a little chat with Wand Monkey if she has a problem, he’s the man to talk to, not me, cause I’m doing what I can here people!

On a similar topic, but to inject a bit of humor into this post, y’all know about my pedigree Persian cats, right?? Well…… Last week, I ran into my OTHER ENT doc in the grocery store and he said “I’m not talking to you! I’ve been waiting for a kitten and you’re ignoring me!” I said “No I’m NOT! She hasn’t gotten pregnant!” He said “Oh, she had a fight with her husband or what?” and cackled his head off (He’s awfully naughty, this doc) Then he said “Why don’t you go take her to Dr. (Wand Monkey) and let him do IVF for her so she gets pregnant!?” I looked at him all shocked and said “You want me to take my CAT to him for IVF??? HAH! I did 4 with him and he couldn’t get ME pregnant!”. Dr. Naughty loved this and laughed his ass off. I thought he would.

News Update

Thank you all for your prayers and condolences on Auntie's passing and Bonnie's illness. They are much appreciated, more than you will ever know.

Enotionally, I'm better today. Physically? Um, maybe not so hot.

I take that back. I AM hot. As in having a fever, hot. And you know what? I would say I sound oh so sexy with my scratchy voice, excecpt that I HAVE NO DAMN VOICE FOR TWO DAYS NOW. I'm still coughing my ass off too. Heavens but I am sore. The bright side? It seems that my sinus infection has cleared up. Yaaaay! Baby steps y'all.

Speaking of babies.....

At the wake today (Day 2 of 3), I was having to field questions of "Don't you want any more children?" then I said "yes, of course I do, I just have problems, especially since my miscarriage (that they ALL know about) a few years ago. God willing I'll have another one". Unbeknownst to me, at around the same time, Arianna was sobbing about this very thing to her dad tonight at home. Shit.

So, The sister of Auntie, she has decided she loves me to pieces, and INSISTS on trying this special prayer thing and "wives tale medicine" etc... (She's really religious) where they pray certian prayers for 5 days, she's like a healer of sorts, and then do something or other... and wham! I get pregnant. I said OK, cause frankly, I'll try anything. She then went on to point around the room to different ladies that she had done this for and they ended up pregnant after years of infertility. Bring it on ladies. Another one of Aunties daughters that I really love to pieces said to the room at large (we are talking 50 people here in this section y'all) "Cyn has the biggest cleanest, kindest heart, she deserves another child and God will hear her prayers". Wowza. Why, thank you. I think I blushed about 20 shades of red. Dang. Talk about being humbled.

Like I said, I'll try just about ANYTHING. What can it hurt? They pray, rub some oils and herbs on my abdomen (Lord I hope ON it and not IN IT) and make me drink some tea made from herbs too, and give it a try. Why not? MY Infert doc in the US that treated me when I was trying to have Arianna used to tell me he prefered the KISS method. Keep It Simple STUPID. Anyway......

Shortly after, when I was saying goodbye, I hugged my FAVORITE of Auntie's girls and she smiled at me and said "My mom always loved your greetings and goodbyes. She would always say "The best hugs are from Cyn, it's a hug, massage, and lots of love all rolled into one". " Hell darlings, that got me all choked up. I didn't let myself cry, but I got really, REALLY choked up. I miss her.

Hopefully I'll be back in my playful and funny mood for a post tomorrow. Again, thanks to all of you! I love you guys!

Double Whammy

You know, just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, a day like yesterday rolls along to knock you right on your ass with all the force of a magnitude 8.0 earthquake.

That’s a pretty bad quake, wouldn’t you agree?

I feel numb with shock and am still damn sick, marginally better except that I have almost virtually no voice left and am still coughing uncontrollably like a sick camel.

Yesterday Z’s auntie died. The news made me stunned me. I had just seen her the week before, she had hugged me so very tight and kissed me on my cheeks so hard, with such strength, how could she be dead? I loved her very much, you see, and this is so damn hard for me.

As whacked and weird as Z’s immediate family is, (mother, sisters, brothers, and their kids), this aunt, who was married to his father’s brother (but also a distant cousin) and all her children –all 9 remaining of the original 10- are the EXACT OPPOSITE. I often told Z that I wish “Uncles Wife” was my MIL instead. I always felt loved by her genuinely. By all of them in fact. Whereas I never have really felt accepted and included as FAMILY by Z’s siblings, I immediately was accepted and loved by this branch, from his Dad’s brother’s wife and their offspring. The difference? They call me Family; by comparison, my hubby’s side says I’m “like family”. See the difference? God forbid Auntie’s girls should find out I was sick or in the hospital! Next thing I would know, they would ALL come and visit me-daily-or fix me old herbal remedies for my cold or cough or whatever and worry over me.

They are all very close, and she was the matriarch. She was all the things that Z’s mother is not, never has been, and should be. She never allowed arguments or dissention between her children or between them and the in-laws for that matter. In fact, at the wake last night, one of her daughters in law was crying and screaming the loudest of all.

She is the one, that when I was going through a particularly rough time in the first few years after moving here with all the problems Monster caused for me, and Z was saying within Aunties hearing that it was because his mom was old, Auntie looked at him, smiled at me, and said to the room at large “That’s not true Z! Don’t make excuses for her, I’ve known her since she was 15-her age has nothing to do with this, and there is no excuse either- and she has always been like this, spiteful, jealous and crazy to boot! She drove your Dad crazy too, even though he was strict with her on her behavior.” See what I mean?

Almost every year, at the feast day celebration at the end of the Holy Month of Ramadan, we would all gather at her home. I always loved this day and looked forward to it. Z’s siblings never came, but we went. The whole HUGE family would gather, her 9 children, their spouses, her 39 grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren too, as they started coming along. Arianna loved her too. Auntie would usually have me sit next to her after the feast and she would talk to me and tell me stories, and sometimes, she would shock the hell out of me and have me laughing my head off. She was so damn funny and blunt. I am especially close with one of her daughters. I usually go to her house every Thursday evening in fact. That is where I saw Auntie last week

I still can’t quite believe she is gone. She should still be here.

She fell the other day and suffered a mild fracture in her hip. At the hospital, they wanted to operate. The bastard anesthesiologist decided to give her an epidural. They ran full tests, her blood, heart, sugar, cholesterol, everything, was perfectly normal. When you are having an epidural inserted, from my own personal experience, when the doctor tells you, you must not move at all, in fact, you must hold your breath until he lets you let it go so that the needle that goes near your spine doesn’t damage you. Apparently, she had a bit of a sore throat. She coughed when he was in the process of inserting the needle. Ie: she moved. Did he stop? No. Did he take it out and try again at a different point? No. He left it as it was, the sonofabitch. Then he administered the anesthesia. Almost immediately after he started it, she began vomiting and then her heart stopped before the surgeon could even touch the scalpel to her flesh. They got her heart going again, but it was stopped for a minute. They cancelled the surgery as she went into a coma. It seems the anesthesia caused a blood clot near her heart or something like that. She never came out of the coma and died yesterday afternoon at 4pm. It took all the men in the family to hold one of her sons off the doctor. He went after the doctor’s throat in a rage.

And before any of you say it, this is NOT the land of "sneeze on me and I'll SUE!". There is no such thing as a medical malpractice lawsuit here....yet.

An interesting point of fact, this is the same hospital (that I don’t go to anymore) that I almost died in recovery after the D&C that was performed after my miscarriage 5 years ago. Again, residual anesthesia effects. I can still remember feeling myself slipping away even now, like my soul was lifting out of my body. It’s hard to describe.

So, last night, as sick as I am, I was at the wake for 4 hours until I was about to fall from my chair. I only cried once, and that was when my favorite of her daughters came and I hugged her and she collapsed sobbing in my arms. Her tears were more than I could take. But then, I was strong for the rest of them. I couldn’t let myself. There is 3 days of mourning beginning today. I was so exhausted, but before I went to bed, I thought I’d check my email to see if I had anything from my Mom, since I hadn’t heard from her in the two weeks since she got back from her vacation, which is more than strange.

Finally there was an email from Mom and that is where I got the news that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

To begin with, something that didn’t make sense to me a few days ago makes sense now. I just thought it was weird. I kept dreaming of my friend Bonnie’s hair. I dreamt about Bonnie, but in my dream, I kept staring at her hair. Very weird, but I shrugged it off.

My Mom told me in the email that Bonnie, my best friend since 7th grade, the Maid of Honor in my wedding, my sidekick through most of my life, has lymphatic cancer. It’s all throughout her neck and under both arms and she is in quite a lot of pain. Before they start Chemo the doctors are checking to see if it’s spread anywhere else so they can plot their course of treatment. I am completely devastated.

Bonnie and I did everything together. Went everywhere together. Her parents and I are very close, particularly her mom and I. We worked at the same place, graduated from High School together (My favorite graduation picture is of Bonnie and I with our Dad’s on either side of us) My Dad loves Bonnie to pieces, not to mention my Mom and they are awfully picky about my friends and always have been.

Bonnie and I went to College together, and even purposely had most of our classes together too! The night I met my husband, Bonnie was with me. (Ok, never mind that she had a crush on him already!) I can't look at a Boston Terrier dog without calling it a "Bonnie Dawg" cause she had two of them she adored. We've always been there for each other, good and bad, thick and thin.

The day that I moved from America here, Bonnie came to help me pack up my belongings for the movers and she came and helped my Mom when the shipping company came after we had left too. The Airport Shuttle was there, Z, Arianna and Monster were all in there and the driver was screaming that we had to go…NOW. I think that is when everything hit me that I was actually leaving my home to move on the other side of the planet away from everything and everyone I knew and loved. Bonnie and I were just hugging each other and I couldn’t seem to move, finally she dragged me over to the shuttle, literally pushed me in and shut the door on me.

I didn’t get to go to her wedding, but in the end, that was a good thing. The fucker she married turned out to be a bigamist and a sneak, a man whore, a user and a thief. Wait, isn’t a bigamist a guy with two wives? Maybe I should say polygamist? Yeah. Turns out he lied about everything from day one, used her, screwed everything in sight even a day after the wedding, had her support him, took her to the brink of bankruptcy, never apparently used condoms with the women he slept with, or her either for that matter, (and he had one-night stands almost nightly until she figured out what he was doing about 7 months later) when she wondered why she was alone all the damn time. Turns out, he also had a few other wives and kids scattered all over the country. He asked her to drop him at his sisters and when she did, she saw a lady chasing after his car with a toddler on her hip. He told her it was his sister and her baby. Turns out it was his WIFE and HIS baby. She finally got it annulled, had to go through the hell of AIDS tests for about a year, which she thankfully escaped, only now to come down with cancer. From one nightmare to another.

When I called Bonnie during her annulment, she kept telling me “Why Cyn? Why did he do this to me? If you had been here, I know this never would have happened to me. I know you would have seen through all his lies and shit, you wouldn’t have let me do it. You would have woken me up. (Cause, well, I’m the voice of reason and logic in our friendship and she listens to me and knows my advice is from the heart, even if it will hurt her a bit.) I know she was right, and I wish I had been there for her too.

Bonnie is 9 months older than me. I can’t believe she has cancer. It doesn’t run in her family at all to my knowledge. I know that age has nothing to do with getting cancer, but it wakes you the hell up, you know? God, I pray she can beat it, if it isn’t too late. She has the best heart. She doesn’t deserve this, dammit.

So, last night, all hopes of sleep were pretty much shot for me after reading my email. I was exhausted and sick and in shock. I thought I would be able to conk right out.

Instead, I sobbed uncontrollably off and on for about four hours on my side of the bed, with my mind running. I kept trying to stop, but I just couldn’t. I guess it was a little bit too much of an emotional day for me. I was crying pretty quietly, but I guess I woke Z up. He thought it was only for Auntie. I told him it was also about Bonnie. He was floored. Then, he turned over and went to sleep. I couldn’t stop crying until I finally passed out from exhaustion round about 5am, but found no peace in sleep either. In my dreams were Auntie and even more of Bonnie, and all the memories shared with both of them.

Auntie is gone, and Bonnie is fighting for her life. God, what a day.

Did someone get the number of the Semi-truck that ran me over?

Woof!!!!

It's official. I'm in lust. Survivor 9 will be easy on my eyes I think. Yes indeedy!

The hottie on Survivor? He's smart and damn but he is mighty fine to look at. Brady. Is that his name? The FBI Agent? *wipes drool* He is bloody hot. His smile could melt buttah. And his body? Sleek and muscled and altogether yummy. I want to do very naughty things to and with that man.

Rowrrrrrr.

Ok, maybe in a few weeks, when the real personalities come out (although on some they already are!) he may end up the vilest asshole, but he will STILL be a fine piece of man! I think he is smart enough to stay on for a while though... that FBI traning has to come in handy, no?

*pant pant, drooling*

I think I want to take up a collection and get Jeff the host a new shirt or two. He was wearing the same shirt at Tribal Council that he wore during most of the ALL-STARS tribal councils. Poor dude. He must not get paid enough. *Snicker, snort, guffaw*Yeah right!

Oh and Cat? Yes, it started this week! You better check your cable guide babycakes! Cause they are already getting nasty and bitchy on both teams!!!! *rubbing hands together with glee* There is a girl on the team, the one that never shuts up, I can't remember her name,...... I hope they vote her off first, cause she gets on my last damn nerve already!

So, what did you all think of the first episode of survivor?

On another note, I would take your advice and go cough on monster, but actually? She has had this a week longer than me, and I think I got the initial cooties from her coughing all over the place and not covering her mouth. Yech. No, my trusty Lysol did not save me this time, dammit.

For the record, I did go kiss up to my ENT and he gave me some freebie meds to clear me right up he said. I went and muscled my way past the new and clueless receptionist that doesn't know me very well, otherwise she would have just waved me on back instead of attempting to get in my way; then into his office to "say hello" and he promptly dragged meto the exam chair after I squeaked out "hi DOC!". He made much gasping and tutting when he looked down my throat and up my nostrils. I told him all I've been doing for myself, he told me :"Thats my girl!" and said, But it hasn't helped huh?" I said no, and then he opened up his goodie drawer!! Yaaaay! 3 cheers for Dr. Majeed!!!! Hip Hip! HORRAY! Hip hip! HORRAY! Hip HIP!! HOORAY!!!!!

Ick

I’ve had better weeks, that’s for sure.

I still feel like crap. Really horrid and yes, I’m worse now. Despite all my best efforts, the infection is deep in my lungs. I have a lovely hacking cough. To the point that now, my voice is super scratchy. Yes darlings, I sound like Demi Moore on helium. Hahaha.

I feel so rotten in fact, that I don’t even have the energy to take care of myself. As in, I FORCE myself to go make some hot tea to try and scald/numb temporarily my( what feels like) a shredded throat. (Descriptive sucker, aren’t I?)

In case you don’t realize how rotten? Last night we rented Van Helsing, and I hacking coughed off and on throughout the 2hr movie. I really wanted some orange juice that I knew was in the fridge. My husband, Mr. Considerate, got thirsty about a third of the way thru the movie, went to the kitchen, got himself something to drink, brought the glass (ONE glass) AND the Lemonade jug with him, and proceeded to down it. Yes, ALL OF IT. I didn’t even have the energy to make a smart ass comment or give a dirty look. No, I wasn’t being lazy, I’m just very weak and sore from the incessant coughing.

Somebody make me a cup of tea? Chicken soup? Glass of water? Anyone???????

I am also pissed. Blogger is totally blowing lately. Don’t go thinking that I forgot you dear readers! NO! The Blogger bastards ate TWO of my posts. Yes Two. Capital “T”. Uh huh. Blogger is now on My List. Trust me, on My LIST is not somewhere you want to be for any amount of time.

See, I love y’all and was trying to post some really charming and (naturally) funny posts for you even though I am pretty sick and feeling nasty rotten and, well, SORE everywhere from the ribs on up, but BLOGGER.COM screwed up.

Are you feeling the love yet? Good.

Now, we subscribe to Showtime and today, just now in fact, they got in my GOOD GRACES and pole-vaulted themselves off MY LIST. What did they do?

They sent a SMS message to Mr. Considerate’s cell-phone reminding us that Survivor’s new series starts showing tomorrow, and they gave us the channel AND timing.

I HEART Showtime!

I can’t wait! I will miss Rupert the Pirate/Hippie’s big ole teddybear self on the show though. How can I not? He was on for two seasons straight! I love me some Rupert. I have a question. Did anyone else besides me want to jump into the TV and bitch slap “Johhny Fairplay” into next YEAR? Grrrrrr.

Heaven help me, I cant’ get our whole “That time of the month on Survivor” discussion out of my head still. I feel damn sorry for whichever of the crew has to dispose of their used tampons. That is some harsh shit right there. Dayum.

Is everyone else ready for the new season?

Not Again!

Hello my lovlies. It would seem that every year I get the same gift in September for my birthday.

A damn lung infection. Just freaking greaaaaat.

It starts out innocently enough as my sinuses and allergies bothering me. The odd sneeze and sinus headaches. Tenderness on the face where the sinuses rest in the head. But add to this high temperatures and most importantly DAMN HIGH HUMIDITY and VOILA! You have the beginnings of what will end up as a throat and chest infection.

Yesterday, I heard the telltale crackling noise in my face and head that tells me I'm fucked. That is the sound, fyi, of infected sinuses. so, the infection typically spreads from my sinuses and back of my nose into my throat. from there, it spreads down my esophagus, taking a Great White bite out of my larynx on the way by to my lungs. If it stays in my throat and larynx, I'm not too bad off. But this morning when I woke up, I could feel the beginnings of a wheese in my chest. That is NOT GOOD. If it gets in my chest, I have to be monitored closely to make sure it doesn't become pnuemonia, which it has done in the past. Man, this usually entails hospitalization, IV lines and IV antibiotics and , like last year, nebulizers every hour on the hour. I actually LIKE the nebulizer's though. It opens up the airways, works as an expectorant, and I can BREATHE with little pain. Never mind that I get the shakes from it like a junkie in bad need of a fix. Plus, it crams oxygen into my lungs. Last year, I went through 2 1/2 oxygen tanks as tall as I am almost. (They were about 5'5)

I'm doing all the things that from experience, I know to do when I feel this coming on... but it all seems to be in vain. Taking my allergy pills. Using my extra inhalers and broncho-dialators (for my asthma), cough suppresants...etc..etc...etc... losenges, hot drinks (shudder. Do you know how I LOATHE drinking hot drinks in 108 degree heat? Ugh.)

I have a weak immune system. I've had contagious Mono TWICE in my life. It kicked my ass and my immune system permanently. I'm always careful to stay away from sick people and I'm so anti germ it's hilarious. Anti-bac everything and Lysol is my best friend. No, I haven't reached Wacko Jacko's extreme yet.. I doubt I will.

Who takes care of Mommy when she is sick? Mommy. Mommy takes care of everyone when they don't feel well., including herself, sorta.

Sigh. I feel rotten. I want my Mama!

Dazed and Confused

That would be a fitting description of me right now. Ok, and slightly pissed too.

I just can't, for some reason, manage to get myself all psyched out about looking for a job. I AM actively looking for a job, I think maybe that didn't come out right. I go on interviews. I send in my resume hither and yon. I go on more interviews. I DO get my hopes up.... and then get them dashed. I hear positive, very positive feedback from the lady at the employment agency after my interviews.

SO WHY THE HELL AM I STILL WITHOUT A DAMN JOB?????

Now, I can't even get excited about an upcoming interview, cause to me, it's just ANOTHER ONE. Maybe I'm trying subconciously to not get even more down about my current situation? I don't know.

Also? Z is getting rather hostile and generally pissed about me not working. Ok, maybe highly irritated? Either way, I tried explaining to him how I feel, but he doesn't want to hear it. Just gets real short and snarls and snaps, then denies that he's done it. Grrrrrrr.

Look. I get all gussied up in a suit that makes me feel good so that I can walk in with confidence. I show up, impeccacably groomed (as if I would do otherwise) and I do my best to knock their socks off. Actually, I give good interview. I do my best and when I walk out of the office, I know that I couldn't have done any better. I am confident with my interview performance. And then I wait.... and wait.... and wait.

But do I hop up and down like the Enegizer Bunny? Um, no. ANd THIS pisses Z off. I asked him "You want me to do cartwheels cause I have an interview? Getting an interview appointment is the easy part."

I'm NOT gonna go apeshit and get my hopes up. No way.

I have another interview tomorrow afternoon. It's funny. I interviewed with them LAST YEAR when I was jobless also. Actually, they almost hired me last year apparently. It was between me and another lady. They hired her. It seems she has gone and gotten pregnant, is due anytime and doesn't want to work after the baby comes, so the job is open again. Well, well, well. Isn't life funny? I wonder if the interviewer will remember me. We shall see.

You know what is just freaking great? I've developed my PMS zit and it's so damn big. I've done everything I can to make it go away. Retin A, Alpha Hydrox. Hot compresses. Cold compresses. You name it. It is very very angry looking and big. I never get them like this. This totally blows.

Power suit? Check! Spare Resume? Check! Reference Letters? Check!! Big volcano zit? CHECK!!!!!

Come on ladies! Don'tcha have any quickie home remedy suggestions for me? This might be beyond even MY makeup application capabilities. (and that's saying something all right!)

HELLLLLLLLLLLLP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Day Like No Other

Today, September 12, is a very special anniversary for me. It is the anniversary of the best day of my life. It is proof and a yearly reminder that whatever I have done with my life to this point, such as it is, and no matter what may come after until my time on Earth is done, whenever that may be, that I can look back and unequivocally say THIS one day back in 1994, was the best day of my life.

September 12 is the anniversary of the day I gave birth to my daughter Arianna. Yes, today is my baby’s 10th Birthday.

My due date was August 28, but she was obviously not having ANY of that. Maybe she just wanted to be a September baby like her Mama and Papa Joe (my Dad). My OB/GYN was also on vacation for that whole week, and he said jokingly to me right before he left “Watch, you’ll have the baby on Labor Day!” and then started laughing his butt off. I looked at him and said “As IF I would ever do anything so cornball!? I’m not having this baby until your butt is back from vacation. We’ll be waiting for you!” And so we were.

And waiting……. and waiting… and waiting….. and waiting……..

Finally on Friday, Sept 9 Doc told me he wanted to induce me, that I was just under 2 weeks late and to wait any longer would not be considered safe. He didn’t want to wait much longer to see if it would happen on its own. We had tried everything to induce my labor up to this point. Walking till I was ready to drop. More walking. Dancing. Lots of sex. Nope. None of it worked. Those old wives tales are such bullshit, I swear. So, Doc booked me to be induced on Monday, September 12. Actually, he wanted to do it on Sunday, Sept 11, but Z said he wanted an extra day off from work and another 3-day weekend. Typical man. I was told to fast and to present myself at the Labor and Delivery ward of my chosen hospital at 5:30am.

AT WHAT TIME????????????? DID YOU SAY 5:30??????? AM?????? Uh, uh-huh, sure, ok. Apparently, they wanted to get me prepped and the IV drip in and the induction med going nice and slow. The way he timed it, I should be fully dilated and in full labor around his lunchtime. Do you think I let him get off that easy? Of COURSE NOT!

Sunday night, I was so nervous. I had been very anxious for a few weeks now. Every twinge I wondered “Is this it?” I had been having some odd pains, but it wasn’t really labor. The wait was killing me! I kept checking and re-checking the bag that I had had on standby for my delivery. Going home outfits? One for a girl, which I was positive I was having, or one for a boy, just in case. Booties, blanket, etc…. yup. All the things for me. Yup. Check. Names. Check. Arianna for a girl. Aidan for a boy. FINAL.

Late at night after Z had gone to sleep, I found myself in the nursery. I eased myself down in the rocking chair and looked around, thinking, “The next time I’m in here, my little baby will be here with me.” And it was the best feeling. I could feel the baby kicking me every now and then. Moving around, trying to get comfortable I suppose. I started crying softly, the emotions overwhelming me. I couldn’t quite believe that I had come this far. I/we had tried so hard and been through hell (ok, mostly me) and back for over 2 years trying to get pregnant. Then when it worked, when I was finally pregnant, I couldn’t quite believe it. Well, not until the horrifying nausea that was with me 24/7 started anyway! I looked down at my HUGE protruding tummy and smiled through my tears. Just a little bit more to go now. By this time tomorrow, hopefully my baby would be born. I managed to haul myself out of the rocking chair and waddled off to bed.

It seemed I had just dozed off after tossing and turning forever when the alarm rang. Even my cats seemed to sense things were different this morning. They were all following me silently, a bunch of little-ok, FAT- seriously furry shadows staring at me. I carefully got into the shower. I figured I would end up a mess, but would prefer to start out squeaky clean at least. You have no idea how unnerving it is to have 7 pairs of eyes staring at your hugely pregnant body while you’re in the shower. Little furry perverts! They were talking to me the whole time now. I got out and went to wake up Z. In no time we were getting into the car for the 30-minute drive to the hospital.

Dawn was breaking as we set off on the freeway. The beautiful early morning light. It was a little bit cool still, and hasn’t really warmed up too much yet. Thank God, since the summer was the worst in DECADES that year. Z remembers the songs on the radio the whole way there. I don’t. I just remember looking at the road, at the mountains in sort of a daze, more and more nervous of the unknown by each passing minute. The whole ride there was a bit of a daze, actually, for me at any rate.

The birthing suite was very nice. Like a hotel room. They got me in and settled and next thing I knew MY nurse Karen (you had a dedicated nurse assigned to you, but that didn’t mean that everyone and their mother wouldn’t be coming to look and stick their hands up your hoo-hah by a long shot!) had inserted the IV line, was smiling at me and said as she started running the solution “Here we go!” I smiled back. She proceeded to get me all attached to the fetal monitor, while I was trying to distract myself by watching the news in front of me on the TV. That obviously wasn’t working. So, I started cracking jokes. I’m usually pretty fun to be around, but when I’m nervous? I turn into a comedienne. Pretty soon I had Karen in stitches laughing so hard, and this is what kept me from freaking out. I was having quite a ball, all things considered.

Well, at least until the contractions started. Things went kind of ape shit real fast. While they were still very mild and far apart, they came to me and told me that my cute little Chinese Anesthetist was scheduled to go in to theater for a heart patient, and would I like to get my epidural in NOW and just keep the med at a very very low dose until it was needed to be increased later, or would I like to chance waiting till he got out of the other surgery? NOW PLEASE. RIGHT NOW. Turns out, it’s a good thing I did it this way, but we’ll get to this in a bit. Thank God my Mama was there with me. Although, watching her try and keep monster the hell out of my hair was grating on me. Monster was talking nonsense the whole time and the LAST thing I needed to hear was her. Z was in charge of keeping her out while I got my epidural. I was a good girl and it went fine. When it started taking effect I got a little freaked when my leg tremors started, but once it did? I was all, “THIS IS THE BEST MY BACK HAS FELT IN 10 YEARS! This is great!” Mind you, it wasn’t strong enough yet for me to NOT feel contractions. That was a trip and a half.

By now I was totally making cracks at whoever walked in and took looks and stuck fingers in my hoohah. There is no dignity allowed for a woman in labor. NONE WHATSOEVER.

I wasn’t dilating like they wanted me to. After 4 hours I had only dilated to 2 so the upped the induction meds. Then, it seemed, things were happening all at once.

I was completely fed up with BOTH mothers by this point and told Z quietly to go get them some coffee or something before I flipped. I was so nervous and wondering why I wasn’t dilating properly as expected, I didn’t need the extra hassle right then, ya know? I was finally in some relative peace and quiet when all hell broke loose inside my womb.

The external fetal monitor wasn’t reading very well, and it seems that I had dialated from 2 to 4 in no time flat. By now, I was pretty numb from the waist (waist! HAH! Wherever THAT was!) down and feelin no pain. Suddenly, Karen is gone, and then 3-4 more nurses come back in with her, checking the fetal monitor tape. Whispering back and forth. Karen is back checking my dialation and they all calmly tell me that the external monitor isn’t getting any clear record, the baby must have moved, so they are going to attach an internal monitor to the baby’s scalp. After assuring me it wouldn’t hurt the baby, I gave the go ahead, still clueless to what the real problem was. When the attached the wire to the skull, it broke my water. THAT WAS SOOOOOOOO GROSS. I had to lay in that. I was NOT happy, but then I noticed the looks on the nurses’ faces. They all looked worried, and Karen checked me and turns out I had dilated to 6 now and apparently they could see the head and part of the cord in the birth canal. They were losing the fetal heartbeat. I could hear that it was slower. They said that I would be fine, and still trying not to tell me anything, but I could see that Karen had still not moved. It seems that she was using her fingers to push the baby back in, because when I dilated so fast and my water broke, the umbilical cord slipped through the opening and then Arianna laid her head on it like a pillow. Yes dears, she was suffocating herself. Karen shoved the cord back in and held Arianna’s head off of it. The shut down the drip immediately so I wouldn’t dilate any more than I already had and they called my doctor. He was on the way. I knew something was wrong, but they weren’t telling me. I looked at Karen and I said, “If it comes down to me or the baby, save the baby please! Don’t let my baby die!” She said we would both be ok, but that I would have to have an emergency C-section now. I said, “do it, whatever, just do it. You have my permission and these 3 nurses as witnesses.”

Karen hopped up on the end of my bed and kept her hand right where it was for the ride down the hall to the O.R. right as Z and the two moms were trying to come back with their coffee. They all 3 had identical looks on their faces. I just looked and said “change of plan, c-section NOW!” as they rolled me past. I was kind of freaking asking if my doc had been called over and over again. They assured me he had. By now I was in the OR and on the operating table. Cute little Chinese Anesthesiologist comes in and stands above my head. Tells me he is giving me a whopper dose of drugs so we can do the c-section. I nod that I understand. As they are going through my system he explains that I won’t feel anything, just maybe a little bit of pressure. Again with the nodding understanding. By now I’m wondering where the HELL IS MY DOCTOR? Cause really I have 100% trust and faith in him. They tell me he is here and scrubbing up and tell me to look to my left and I can see him. He looks at me, our eyes meet, and suddenly, I know I’m going to be ok. I felt reasonably calm.

Of course, this did not prevent me from sticking my foot in my mouth with what I said next in a moment of levity. All I can say is, whatever was going thru my veins must have been some gooooood shiiiiiiiiiiitttttt mannnnn. They had strapped my legs to the table and then swung out a board thingie on either side of my torso and proceeded to tie my arms to it. I looked at them, wiggled my fingers and said quite loudly “What is this, the Crucifixion???”. Everyone paused for a moment and stared at me, then started laughing their heads off as they continued with their work, still laughing. Did I mention that this is a CATHOLIC HOSPITAL? No? Well, now I did! Doc walks in and hears the laughter and says “and NOW you see why this lovely lady is my very favorite patient!” and he winks at me. By now, Karen has removed her hand to be replaced by the hand of Sue. Karen walks by me and shows me her fingers. They are blue from lack of circulation and bruised with ugly purple bruises, but she is smiling at me nonetheless. She had her hand like that for over 30 minutes, bless her heart.

Now doc is standing next to me, waiting for the all clear to begin his incision, just staring at the guy above my head. They put an oxygen mask on my face and he is saying “COME ON ! HOW MUCH LONGER???” and I hear little man at my head counting 5,4,3,2,1 ok…. And then doc nods, and his hands go down. (Also? Doc is about 6’4, so he is real easy to see even from my prone position.) Z is at my left next to the anesthesiologist looking terrified in his scrubs. Then I remember, “I was told I would only feel pressure! I FEEL MORE THAN PRESSURE. I move my head and drug doc leans over my face upside down; I said, “I feel everything! I FEEL IT!!!!!!!!!!” he said NO, only pressure!” I said, “He cut me left to right. He pulled the skin up and back, now he has clamped it on the top left and now the right……..” and I hear drug doc shout “OH SHIT!” as I moan in pain (Yes, I can feel most all of it y’all) He says, I can give you something more, but you will be really high for over 24 hours!” I said “It isn’t as if I’m DOING ANYTING USEFUL EXCECPT LAYING HERE! GIMMIE!” He nodded and almost instantly, I was high as hell. NOW I could only feel pressure, thankfully. I’m still moaning, from the pressure. Though. It would seem that my husband watched them remove my some of my intestines and place them on my distended abdomen. Yes, he stayed standing, but barely, poor guy.

Call me nosey, but I noticed that my doc went in for her 3 times. He tried to take her out vertically, but she slipped away. Then he went in horizontally, but she wiggled away again, I saw him look irritated behind his mask and he hoisted himself up on the table with one knee up for leverage and went in diagonally this time! SUCCESS!!!!! I felt this great sucking feeling as all of a sudden I was empty and my head flopped back, cause y’all? Even with the drugs, it didn’t feel too nice. The big ass digital clock on the wall read 10:42am.

But then I didn’t hear crying for a minute. In my drugged state, I was afraid, but then, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I was relived. I kept asking Boy or girl? Boy or girl? No one would answer me, the bastards. Finally someone told me GIRL! And I smiled. I had always, always wanted a baby girl since the time I was about 3.

I think I passed out after that for a little bit. Either that or they gave me another push of drugs for the sewing up part. Ew.

Still I hadn’t seen her. Eventually, I woke up back in my room. I kept asking to see my baby. They told me soon. They told me not to worry, her APGAR rating was a 9 and that she cried for 45 minutes straight once she started! And then they rolled her in in the incubator. She was very slightly jaundiced. I just stared and stared at her in wonder and amazement.

Finally I had my baby. Later, they let me hold her for my first attempt at breastfeeding. The second she was in my arms and looked up at me all squinty I was hooked. And I’ve remained hooked ever since.

As any parent will tell you, the time really flies. It seems only yesterday that I was holding her for the first time. After I got home, her first bath. Well, I didn’t give her her first bath, I was TERRIFIED I’d drop her when she was wet. Cat “Costrina” (yes, my friend that comments on my blog!), my wonderful friend Cat came, (who already had a 2 year old and who I used to pray I could one day be as good a mother as she is, heard my plight and came to my rescue. Now THAT, dear readers, is a friend!

Later, when she first smiled at me. Her first tooth. Her first food. (Mango baby food) Her first steps were trying to follow me when I walked away to go to the kitchen. So many memories flooding my mind, and too numerous to put down here.

So today, my baby, my life, turns 10 years old.

Happy Birthday Arianna. It has been a joy to watch you grow with each year that passes and I’m so proud of my beautiful Princess. Mama loves you with all her heart, forever and ever.

Remembering 9/11

Three years ago today a horrifying tragedy happend on U.S. soil. What happend was beyond anyones comprehension. Until 9/11/2001, I believe that noone in America, my home country, belived that they would have witnessed, that anyone would DARE to attack the US on it's own soil, but that is precisely what DID happen. Perhaps the government ignored the warning signs. Personally I belive they did. I belive that there were enough signs, and too much red tape and politics and infighting between intelligence agencies at the time. Could it have been prevented. I guess we will never know. To some extent, maybe yes. There were definete warinng signs (That August Memo, for instance). Condi said as much. Their concerns were mostly for overseas, not at home.

I mean, perhaps all the higher up people in the governemnt thought : "Who the hell would DARE to do such a thing to US, the United States of America?" Apparently Os*ma Bin L*den would and did, the bastard, may he rot in hell for eternity sooner than later.

The atrocity of 9/11 and all te*ror attacks since are a testament to what can happen when you misunderstimate your enemy and are too cocky and full of yourself. Unfortunately, America and the world learned a lesson the hard way.

Three years ago I sat stunned in disbelief at what I was hearing. At the images I was seeing on my computer screen at work in what was the late afternoon in this part of the world.

I heard about the first plane hitting when my husband called me and told me. I couldn't believe it. At least not at first. Then, he checked with a friend at American Airlines and they told him that one of their jets was "off the radar". Missing. I knew then it wasn't a small plane that hit. With dread I felt that this was NOT an accident as first reported... I was afraid it was done purposely.

I immediately tried to pull up my beloved CNN.com... but I couldn't for at least 5 minutes. I guess they had an overload of site hits, understandably.

Within minutes, the CNN website was posting pictures of the first plane hitting and having breaking news about the second plane.

I was still sitting in shock when the news started coming through about the towers collapsing one by one. Then, the plane flying into the Pentagon. This terrified me because one of my Uncles is frequently at the Pentagon on business. Another Uncle is still in the military and is also there from time to time. Fortunately for me, neither one was there that day.

I vaguely remember leaving work and driving home in a daze, listening to the news on the radio. The days after the attack, I was in a daze. In shock I guess. Watching the news at home. Horrifying, all of it. I had nightmares for months. I can only imagine the poor people that survived and their families and the families of those that were lost, what they went through. What they are STILL going through. My prayers are with all of them today.

I hope yours are too.

The Social Butterfly

Yesterday afternoon Z came home and told me we were invited to a gathering later in the evening by a client/friend of his for his girlfriend’s surprise birthday party. Oh goody. I’m going to be immersed in a bunch of people (around 30) that I don’t know.

Don’t get me wrong, I like gatherings! A lot. I’m a friendly person; definitely NOT a wallflower by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just that, well, I’ve been a wee bit down lately, what with the no job situation, my vacation being delayed until WHENEVER and all. But you know, you kinda have to be in the MOOD for one of these gatherings. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew someone there at least.

But wait! I it seems that I have met the birthday girl, Lisa, before. It would seem that I spent a majority of a Christmas Party about 3 years ago chatting with Lisa. She is a sweetie. Oh good. I DO know someone. Anyway, I figured, “Oh what the hell, at least I’ll get out of the house for a while, right?” Right.

Boy oh boy did I EVER!!!!!! Heh.

I got myself all dolled up. Hell, it’s amazing what a little eyeliner and lipstick and blush do for a woman’s mood. Especially ME! The makeup maniac. (But that, my darlings, is another post altogether!!) Scarlett sings: “I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! Oh so pretty and happy and …..” Well, you know the rest!

We showed up a little after 8:30 pm. Z was telling me to go in first. OH NO HE DOESN’T! He wasn’t being gentlemanly. No sireebob! Nope. He was shy. I told him, “Get yer butt in front of me, cause YOUR friend invited us, and I have no idea what he looks like and I’ve never met him!”. So, he did. Then, after the introductions, I start looking around at the gang of people gathered in the bar for Lisa’s party. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Everyone is in their mid to late 50’s at least! JJ asks me what I want for a drink, I take another glance at all the quiet, generally stuffy appearing older people and say, “MARGERITA PLEASE!” with a smile. Z looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Hee hee heeeeeee. Good.

Blah blah blah. Lisa comes over, is so excited that we came, she hasn’t seen us in AGES, yadda yadda yadda, etc.. and all. (She is really a sweetheart!) Here comes my drink in JJ’s hand. GIMMIE!!!!!!! I take it from him and take a sip…………..

THANK YOU LORD. It’s really, really good. I mean I haven’t had a margarita this good since I left Los Angeles in 1998! (Rose Ann, like the ones down the street from work, good!) PERFECT. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I stand around happily sipping my drink while Z and Lisa chit chat. (anybody’s guess where JJ went)

Thankfully it’s time to move to the tables. I am much better in these type of situations. NOW I am completely at ease. We sit down and I proceed to get to know our tablemates. In our general vicinity it is all women… but next to the lady sitting to my left is Ryan. (Remember this name for later on please) The lady next to me is a lovely Australian woman who seems to be in her early 40’s. Laura. She is a joy to sit next to. Turns out Laura’s hubby is an investment banker and when she asked me what I do and I explained, she choked on her drink. It seems that he is looking for an Executive PA. Isn’t that lovely? (Yeah, I worked it but good!) Across from me is Z. Next to him is an older lady with long ass blonde hair named Diane. I like me some Diane. Diane is older, yet very chic and elegant with loads of tasteful jewelry. Diane is British but with some Irish ancestry I believe. This little fact will also come in handy in a moment.

Hold on to your undies, for heavens sake!

The restaurant is more like an art gallery. Directly behind Z is a small stage with a mural on the wall and there sits the entertainment. A man with a good voice and a guitar and 2 big ass speakers. The lights are very dim, with spots on the artwork and there are candle tapers placed in the middle of the tables. So lovely. (Cause ladies, don’t we all know we look beautiful and enchanting by candlelight?” YUP!

Around now, a waiter comes around with a frothy pitcher of margaritas. He tops my almost empty glass up. I’m a happy woman. As we are all enjoying the ecstasy of our newly refilled drinks and getting to know each other..... I hear my dear husband stick his foot in his mouth with his usual comment to Diane who is seated next to him.

He apparently explained that I am Irish-American and she said “Yes, she is so obviously Irish with her amazing coloring-look at those big green eyes and that thick red hair!- and her beautiful complexion… only the Irish have a skin tone that pure and milky a white!” (I so love me some Diane right now!) Enter Z with his comment “Yeah, hah! And she has an Irish temper too!”

DOH! Wrong thing to say, I think.

Diane’s face went from a charming smile to narrowed blue slits for eyes, a set mouth, and very serious expression when she said “What temper? The Irish are known for being fun loving, and for breaking into song and dance. Friendly and charming with a love for a good drink now and then! The Irish don’t have tempers, so they my dear?” She asks me, smiling into my eyes. I smile at her and say sweetly “What temper?” as I daintily pick up my glass and as ladylike as possible suck down some of the contents. Heh. Z looks like he swallowed an octopus tentacle and it’s gotten stuck in his craw. Gawd I love when that happens. I wanted to ask “Would you like fries with that dear?”

This is the SECOND time that he has made this comment to someone about me that has IRISH BLOOD and they call him on it. HAH! It would seem he never learns, doesn’t it?

Ok never mind that I do have a temper. My full-blown temper isn’t all that often seen.. Naw, its rarely seen. If I lose my “Irish” temper, you will know it. Definitely. My temper is much like a volcano. It lies dormant for a while, and then, once the pressure cannot build any more, KABOOOOOOM!

But I digress.

They bring us starters, which we make short work of. Much like my drink. By now I’m on my 3rd refill and chatting away with everyone at my table. The main course is ordered and now they bring around a lovely white wine. Like I’m going to say no? Too late, it was placed in front of me. Oh well. I DO like white wine.

More talking and what not. I find out that I am sitting amidst millionaire bankers and businessmen. Everyone is either British, Australian, or some other type of European. There is one couple from Africa. You know, the white Africans in Zimbabwe that got kicked off their farms, their land taken from them, blah blah? That would be Ryan and Deborah.

Ryan loves him some drink, does Ryan. HE is a damn hoot. Another gentleman that loves his alcohol is Charles, Diane’s hubby. He is the freaking Millionaire banker that owns 8 investment banks. That Charles is a cheeky bugger.

Let me speed things up, hmmmm? Dinner comes, and for me, Lord only knows how many margarita refills. I lost count somewhere around 7. I know it was more, but hell if I know how many. Well! I’m not the only one drinking! Everyone by now is all friendly and having a lovely time. I don’t usually drink. There is never any alcohol in my house. (Ok, but that’s mainly cause Monster drinks booze like it’s water if it’s around and she’s in a freaking desert, ok? So I wouldn’t get any anyway!) My husband doesn’t drink at all. I drink on special occasions. Like this. (Hey Rose Ann, any outing with you is considered a special occasion sweetie!)

After dinner, Charles, who is by now quite high on his drinks, and who, I find out, Loves to dance, starts dancing with his wife. I think to myself how adorable they are and how very graceful. He does the whole ballroom/swing-dancing thing. I am enchanted. The singer leaves and puts on soft music. A little while later, once the restaurant is pretty much cleared out and we are on our own, Charles and Diane’s daughter and her friends, male and female, come to crash the party. They are all between the ages of 18- 22ish. One particularly adorable tall lanky guy eventually hops up on the stages, takes hold of the acoustic guitar attached to some amps and speakers and proceeds to blow our damn minds with his fucking AMAZING TALENT.

This guy, Eddie, he can sing and play man. He knows how to get an audience involved too! Someone get this guy a freaking recording contract NOW. He has a beautiful deep scratchy singing voice with a helluva range. He whipped out with some Little Richard, Beatles, Rolling Stones (I can’t get no sa-tis-faaaaaaction!!!!!!!)Jimmy Buffett, and MORE MORE MORE! The song “American Pie” more times than I want to remember, The Eagles, some 80s music, some 90’s, everything in between, and new millennium stuff too! Bloody hell. He covered every freaking decade for 40+ years! AND HE WAS GOOD. We were all singing and everyone started dancing. Well, I was sitting. A few of us were. For now.

Charles moseyed up and asked me for to dance. Z shrugged, and I said to myself “Why the hell not?” So I accepted. Dayum! I haven’t danced like this since I don’t know when!

Yes my lovelies, Scarlett was in the middle of the dance floor with the dancer that knew his stuff doing some major swing-dance moves. WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!! He danced with me for two songs, since he thought I was such a good dance partner. I was a bit rusty, but it comes right back, like riding a bicycle. I was having so much fun and laughing y’all!!!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

I was finally returned to my seat. More drink refills ensued, and I found myself singing with Eddie and the rest of the gang to his songs. I see the Philippino waiters over in the corner tapping their feet and clapping along with the music. They are enjoying themselves too. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, I see one of them fly up onto the stage, snatch a tambourine from God Knows WHERE and start shaking his shit and his tambourine up next to Eddie, really getting into it! Can you all imagine my face? I was in freaking hysterics people. The little waiter guy was SO INTO IT. And he was doing well too, bless his heart!

The waiter, continued on, and in a bit, he went FUCKING INSANE! He started dancing and running all over the damn place in a complete FRENZY Y’ALL!!!!!!!! Like he was on crack and going through withdrawals. I was INSENSATE and staring openmouthed at the spectacle unfolding before my eyes! Then I started laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe!

This brings a whole new meaning to ROTFLMAO.

Damn I wish I had pictures. I really do.

When I get my breath back, I start singing along at the top of my voice at this point, with everyone else. Scarlett can project her voice, (can’t I Costrina?) and it seems she hasn’t forgotten how to do so either!! Heh. Remember this too, my lovelies.

Round about 2:30am, we are all still going strong. I was sitting there, still clutching my bottomless pit of a margarita glass in my hand and finding myself completely amazed that all these people that I am with who were all being so stuffy, circumspect and proper are now drunk off their asses and ALL OVER THE DANCE FLOOR. Funny what tequila does to people, innit?

In the middle of my musings and general mental repetitions inside my head of “I am SO BLOGGING THIS TOMORROW!!!!! Mustn’t forget anything!”, well, this is when Ryan, who we all gave up and gave him his own pitcher with a straw, comes over and yanks me out of my chair for a dance. He is SO shitfaced I don’t know how he stands, much less plans to dance. But dance we did. Until he started twirling me, and then couldn’t decide if he wanted to lead, or to let me lead, and then he made ME twirl HIM whereupon he promptly spun out of control and would have fallen on a table if I hadn’t grabbed him! He started laughing uproariously at this, and then decided to do a waltz-like dance instead. I couldn’t help myself. I was laughing my head off by this time at Ryan’s antics. I finally escaped and sat back in my seat.

More singing and watching OTHERS dance madly until slowly people went close to 3 am. Eddie had stopped singing at this point. I found out that Z had invited JJ and Lisa over for me to cook dinner for them in the near future, and suddenly it was just Z and myself, Eddie, JJ and Lisa. Eddie’s friends were outside, Z, JJ and Lisa were talking, and I decided to compliment Eddie on his rather obvious talent. He told me the sweetest thing, this lovely Swedish guy that was so cute that the Brit ladies sitting with me were earlier saying they could fancy a shag with him, please let him be LEGAL. He said. “You are a singer, I could hear you over everyone’s voices. You knew all the words. Next time, come up and sing with ME! You have to!”.

Wow. Thanks cutie pie. You just made my night! I said thank you, and sure, next time I’d sing with him. I left the cutie pie comment out.

Z and I got home at 3:30am to monster and her dramatics waiting for us. She hates it when we go out or have a good time. I ran in, jumped in the shower, and then crawled in the bed around 4am and slept like a baby.

This morning, I woke up perfectly fine. No pounding head. NO sensitivity to light. Nada. Yes, yet again, I have made my Irish Nana proud. She would haunt me if I let a little tequila bring me low.

So what do you all think, hmmmm? Does it sound like I had fun?

Man, I want a drink- monster is STIL bitching about our outing.