ammogirl

Omg, what have I been DOING?  I don’t even have a reason for not posting, besides the fact that I am completely lazy.  Well, that and…nope, just lazy!

Actually, although I could sing one million praises about how much I love Zoloft and how much better it has made me, the one thing I sort of don’t like is the fact that I forget everything now.  Like, I can fill up a teakettle, walk out of the kitchen to do something, forget I am boiling water, and then when I remember and go back to the kitchen, stand there and think, “huh.  I do not remember filling this up.”

Now, I know what you are thinking, which is probably something like ‘that can’t be good’.  In fact, I can see/hear my sister Toni, RIGHT NOW, scrunching up her face, getting her worried voice, and saying, THAT’S a problem.  But I swear, it’s not!  It’s really not.  I mean, it’s not as if I stick my hand in a garbage disposal and forget before I turn it on, or…forget to turn stuff off, or…have amnesia.  Everything just seems foggy, like it happened, but a long time ago.

Also, I am now messy.  Not dirty, but like, maybe it takes me a little bit longer to take a dirty dish into the kitchen.  THAT’S only awful because John is constantly cleaning up after me and I hate it.  At least once a day I tell him to stop, but he doesn’t, at which point I want to ask him why he is so awesome.  Because clearly, he is.  Like…right this minute, who is sitting on her ass posting, and who is taking my ice cream wrapper to the garbage?

Oh hey.  Can you please look at the first word in the last three paragraphs and tell me what that type of word is?  And then tell me what it’s called when you start EVERY paragraph with some variant of that type?  Is it something like ‘a bad writer’?  I’m thinking yes.

I made the most incredible red beans and rice last night.  Usually I use Zatarain’s box mix but it’s soooo salty I can barely stand it, so I found a recipe online and modified it to be more…fresh.  And it was SO GOOD.  Spicy, but not too much, and just totally yum.  The leftovers were all I could think about at Yoga this morning, and I was a little disappointed when I walked in the door and Lindsey said, “Do you want to make breakfast?  I mean, do you think we should make breakfast?”  (but what she really meant was mom please make me food, because although she SAID she was gonna help, she got me the eggs and then said she had to pee, and then she never came back downstairs until I said food was ready.  Sneaky, that one.)  Fortunately it made a LOT, so there was enough for dinner tonight, so:  bonus, because then I didn’t have to cook.  Yay.

Tschuss!!

AS PROMISED…I posted the pics from Pisa on my Flickr.  Don’t get excited, there are only five.  Maybe six.  Also, keep in mind that I had literally JUST gotten off work 27 minutes prior.  Hence the hair.  Also, I think the guy who was taking the pictures must have had a different view than I, because I’m not…quite…there when it comes to the “I’m holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa” pics.  It’s more like “I’m getting ready to hold up the tower, and while I’m reaching up for it, I’m going to smile at you insanely.”

For the record, it was pretty cool to see it, and I think EVERYONE should take the requisite tourist pic with the tower.  However, I did see one guy getting his picture taken while pretending to push the tower over, and THAT, I thought, was an awesome idea.  Unfortunately, I was distracted by the gelato, and did not follow through.

So.  Like…four years ago I was mercilessly teasing my cat by getting really close to him and blowing air out my nose, right?  Yeah, well, my cat was exactly as impressed by me as you are, except he showed his level of impress by using his…cat-like reflexes, HA HA HA…and swiping me in the nose.  Literally in the nose.  It either almost caused amputation or just sort of sliced the front corner of my, uh, nostril (AGH!  Writing about one’s nostril is as embarrassing as writing about pooping!  Which I do not do!).

Anyway.  My nostril did not like this turn of events and makes it known to me about once a month, when the slice re-slices open from vigorous blowing (that’s what she said)(I can’t help it, The Office season premiere is Thursday) and causes me ridiculous amounts of pain.  Except THIS time, it’s caused an actual sore, which makes me look very much like I snort cocaine.  The whole underside of the tip of my nose is red and every other day or so it starts healing up, but in doing so causes dead skin to flake off, which in turn look like dried snot.  Which it is not.

I react to this exactly how you think I would react, which is to check my nose obsessively, rubbing it every three seconds and visiting the bathroom when I have reached my limit and pulling off the dead skin.  What!  Do YOU like to feel and/or look like you have BOOGERS COMING OUT OF YOUR NOSE?  I think not.

Of course, the constant rubbing makes things worse, causing an endless cycle of stupid nostril wounds, and pretty much I’m going to start losing massive amounts of self-confidence if this doesn’t fix itself soon.  

The moral of this story is:  Even if you think blowing in your cat’s face, which really bugs him, is a smart idea, it really is not.  The end.

Tschuss!!

I’m going to get a lot of shit for this, I know.  But.  Listen for a minute.  John and I have been very verbal with both the girls about drinking and drugs and cigarettes and all that nonsense, and have made it clear that while drugs and cigarettes are definetley not okay, at all, ever, we know they will have a drink or two before they turn 21.  It’s…it’s a fact.  I did it, you did it, the whole world did it.  Okay, maybe not the WHOLE world, but for the sake of my story, just go with it.

Oh wait, lost my point there, didn’t I?  

Okay, so we tell them if they are ever in a situation where there is drinking (of which there are many, in a country where the legal drinking age is 16), that they can never ever, ever ever, never never never get into a car with someone else who is drinking.  Or try to drive themselves.  And that they should tell us.  

The first time I got drunk, I was 13.  I went to a wedding in Newberg with my best friend’s family, and at the end of the reception my friend and I went around the room and drank all the leftover liquor and champagne from the…omg…FROM THE DIRTY GLASSES!  WE DRANK BACKWASH.  OMG.

Anyhow, I got drrruuunnnnk.  Wasted.  I got scared and ran around the hotel looking for places to hide until finally I jumped in the swimming pool and wouldn’t come out, and the parents had to retrieve me.  The next day I was completely hungover.  It sucked.  But I never told my parents.  

Yesterday Lindsey came downstairs and told me that she had a drink on Friday at the local village fest.  She was upset because her boyfriend had broken up with her and everyone was drinking and she had a drink too and she said she acted really stupid and obnoxious and embarrassed her friends and embarrassed herself and she felt dumb.  She stayed the night at a friends house that night (preplanned) and the mom picked them up and took them home and she was safe and not sick the next day.

…You know, I don’t know.  Yeah, yes, YES, of course I was upset with her.  But, she TOLD me.  SHE told ME.  It was surreal, sort of, because I wasn’t quite sure how to react, but at the same time I couldn’t react even if I DID know because I was, in a way, frozen to the spot.  

In the end, I reiterated that I am not mad at her, but I wasn’t okay with it, that a lot of shit can go down when your drinking that you can’t be in control of, and that I was glad she told me.

Too lenient?  How can I be sure?  Would yelling and screaming or even being angry helped at all?  Or would it have made it worse?  Would it stop her from doing it again?  Or would it make it more tempting, and something she did behind my back, without me ever knowing?

I feel comfortable with my decision.  I believe that trust goes a long way in any relationship, and I held up my end of the bargain in this.  She made a decision she knows was dumb, she felt comfortable talking to me about it, and yeah, maybe I’m naive but…I have faith that it won’t happen again anytime soon.  

We’ll see, I guess.  Damn kids.  Damn, damn kids.

Tschuss!!