A New Christmas Tradition?

I have got to get back to this blog...

Meanwhile, today marks exactly 5 years since I wrote the most popular post of the 120 I've written.. (Gee, that number sounds good until you notice that this year I've written... uh... two... and that's IF you count this one... )

Anyway, I've been working on posts in my head. Maybe this recycled post will be just the kickstart I need to start writing again. Or maybe I'll slip even further into the clutches of literary laziness and will just come repost this one year after year...

Hope you enjoy just the same, and if I don't make it back here before then, I wish a safe and happy holiday to you and yours.

(This post first ran December 5, 2009.)

HUMBUG!

12/04/11 Editors note: If your Christmas tree is giving you problems and you Googled the name and got sent here, the only help I can offer you is to try THIS; although you can read the following year's entry and learn that it helped some, but not all of the problems.

P.D. asked me yesterday why artificial Christmas trees were invented.

"Well honey, I guess so people won't have to go to the trouble of going to buy a tree every year, they'll already have one at home. It's just easier."

Today, I had to rethink my answer.

For our first Christmas in this house, (2005) my mom bought a pre-lit tree for us. (Actually, for P.D.... she said that her baby deserved something better than the "table-top fiber optic gizmo" that Deat and I called "Our Christmas Tree".)

Oh, that tree that Momma bought, it's a beaut... a 7 1/2 ft Emerald Peak Tree (From K-mart's Martha Stewart line no less). It "features 800 multicolored lights and 1,504 easy-to-shape branch tips Revolving stand included" Yes, that's right folks, my tree TURNS. And man, that first 2 years, well, she was glorious. (Although, I will admit, having an angel staring down while turning in a circle as if she were surveying the room took some getting used to.)

Last December was terribly hectic, not to mention a hard one to "get into the spirit" so putting up the tree was a hurried affair one afternoon after school. I pulled apart the bunched-up branches like fighting fire. As a result, we had a somewhat "gappy" tree. Later in the season, one small line of lights near the bottom stopped lighting... no matter... in a few seconds the good side of the tree came around again anyway. Besides this thing has at least 16 different plugs (with a configuration so confusing, it came with all of the sockets pre-plugged except for the 3 letter-matched plugs and sockets required to connect the 3 different layers of tree.)

Today I decided I'd take a little extra care; I'd take advantage of those "easy-to-shape tips" to make sure our tree would look like the one on the box again. I thought to myself this morning, "I'll try to find that line if I have time and fix it, too."

So, I set the first section in the stand... two rows of branches that fall into place when you set them upright. I noticed as I was shaping the bottom row that the upper-row branches I kept pushing up out my way refused to say there, so I called to P.D. to bring one of my belts from my closet. I pushed all of the upper row branches up out of my way and cinched them with the belt.. worked like a charm! So there I sat on the floor shaping each tip, branch by branch; turn the tree, shape the next one... so pleased with my work... repeat for the next row.

Luckily, P.D. had retrieved not one belt, as I requested, but all of them, so I already had them for the middle section (five rows). I took the top-most of the middle sections branches, cinched them, then the second top-most, cinched them and so on down, so when I finished shaping the bottom-most section I was working on, all I had to do was release the belt above it, and only the very-next row would drop for shaping.

I really wish that had been as easy as it reads here. Those easy-to-shape tips (and the greenery adorning them) hurt! Anyone who has ever made the mistake of working in hay in short sleeves can relate to the scratches covering my lower arms. If you can't relate... be glad. One hour in, and I'm only beginning to shape the bottom-most row of branches for the middle section. It took me another hour to get those rows shaped.

Luckily, TLC called and kept me company for half of that ordeal and the shaping of the top section. As I mentioned to her on the phone, with 2 hours, I could have run out and bought a real tree, and the price would have been a cheap exchange for scratch-free arms! We discussed several topics as I worked, one being that she, (unlike me) had blogged 3 times in November and had also blogged yesterday. As I finished the top section, I told TLC I had to go... it was time to start the decorating.

I plugged in my 3 trusty letter-matched plugs and called to the girls for the first lighting....

Only one of that multitude of light-strings lit.... ONE half of ONE side of ONE row on the bottom of the tree. Just then, I noticed a tag on the plug leading into the base, "One spare fuse inside the socket." Hooray! It's probably just that fuse, right? I opened it up, checked the fuse inside, but it looked fine. I re-plugged the main wire into the wall socket... and now none of the lights will light.

Next year, I believe I'll be forgoing the convenience of my artifical tree for a troublesome real one!

Oh well, while my Christmas Spirit may be a bit lacking at the moment, my competitive spirit is alive and well... At least now I'm one up on TLC for blogging in December.

But They Don't Fall Down...

Sooo, Weight Watchers

I've debated including this update, because most of you come here via my Facebook page and have already seen this picture:

The picture on the left was taken the first weekend in May, 2012.
The one on the right, the last week in August, 2012

Exciting, right? Except after that, it slooooowwwwwed waaaaay doooown.. I've lost 10 more pounds since then, but I've been fighting with the same 3-4 pounds since November. Sigh. 

I've decided it's because right now, outside, it gets too dark, too early, for me to get out and walk;

it's too cold to drag the girls out with me;

Michelle isn't coming over to walk;...

And, um, I'm lazy.

My other favorite excuse is that I hate shopping and if I lose much more I will have to go, at least to Goodwill, for some "in between clothes"... in between the size I am now and the size I want to be. Why invest real money in clothes you don't plan to stay in, right?

The positives remain: when I add weight back on, it doesn't stay there. Also, I still weigh 10 pounds less than I did BEFORE I quit smoking. Kidding aside, I truly believe when I get my exercise regimen going again I will begin losing more consistently again.

Unless I keep doing stuff like I did tonight. 

Many of you know a little about the Weight Watcher's system. Different foods have different point values, your mission is to try to keep your daily points intake as close as possible to the daily points values assigned to you based on your current height and weight. I started out with 35 points per day, I am now allotted 30. (You get rewarded for success by getting your daily points lowered... it rather seems counter intuitive, like a punishment for victory, doesn't it? I digress.)

Points won't matter, however, if you don't TRACK them. The online tracker even has recipe builder so you can figure out points-values and track your home-cooked recipes before you ever make them. For the first several months, before I took a bite of anything I already had it tracked online.

Most fresh fruits and vegetables are assigned zero points: this offers motivation to include more fruits and vegetables in your daily intake. More fruits and vegetables = healthier lifestyle. That part of the program has really worked for me. My cart at Kroger is already half-full before I ever get out of produce. After some time using the tracker, you begin to figure out how to make better food choices on your own. The problem is getting too cocky...

I've learned to experiment more: I watch for and try lots of different vegetable side dishes with supper. Today I found a recipe for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts. Sounds good and healthy, right? No need to track it before supper, I was too busy cooking. The girls didn't like it; I thought it was delicious. So, I proceeded to eat it. All of it. Better than eating more mashed potatoes, right?

Except: 

See those arrows pointing to the FOUR points per serving?
Tonight's recipe made, um FOUR servings

The walnuts helped kill it, but yeah, 16 points worth, over half of the points I'm allowed per day, of Brussels Sprouts.

Destroyed my points for the day.

It's just not fair.

Brussels Sprouts should be NEGATIVE points just for their very nature of BEING Brussels Sprouts*.

If I can just convince my hips of that... 

That's okay though. I may not be moving as fast but I'm still moving forward, wobbling along...

*Okay, I'll fess up, I LOVE Brussels Sprouts. However, nobody else does, so I still contend that they should be negative points.

Hedgehog Harassment

Today's post is something new to JKH, a Facebook-Text Message-Drawing media extravaganza, with very little actual writing on my part.

Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.

I only want to record a fraction of the campaign waged against me and my wishes. If I give in, you'll know I made a valiant effort against the tide... I say "only a fraction" because I could only screenshot my text messages with Danny back to the 13th...

It started innocently enough...

Thursday January 10
Mode: Facebook

Friday & Saturday, January 11 & 12

Filly can attest, I got numerous harassing texts on Friday... mostly referring to a hedgehog as a "little precious" à la Gollum. (Important later) Saturday was so crazy I don't think either of the Hedgehog team was on task.

Sunday, January 13

Mode: Facebook

The actual video is below... and yeah, the little sucker IS indescribably cute. (be strong, be strong...)

Monday, January 14

Mode: Text

And on Facebook: 

She's either gonna be a salesperson, a lawyer or a carnival barker...

Tuesday, January 15

Mode: Text Messaging

(For reference, see "Pre-Teen Titan")

Mode: HOMEWORK?

And fnally, the pièce de résistance also happened to fall in the correct order chronologically. P.D. brought home her most recent English assignment yesterday evening, an illustrated poem.

Haiku de Hedgehog

Cold Hedgehog in sock

Hiding, waiting for snow's end

Shivering, sleepy

Cleaning It Up for Fun and...

Who are we kidding, I want recognition from people I don't even know. Which is bad... more on that later.

You may have noticed when the blog opened that something was missing. Don't fret, the playlist is still there, you just have to turn it on yourself now. Apparently, auto-play playlists on blogs are annoying... who knew?

And... so are archive lists that are too long. And lists of blogs I read... and... and..

 Did I mention I broke the toilet yesterday? I did.

For some strange reason, (although I have bought and installed replacement kits on 2 separate occasions), the little stopper inside the tank goes off track more often than it stays in place... meaning the drain is not plugged I have to take the lid off the tank to get it back in place or face a huge water bill from the water running running running trying to fill the tank.

Yesterday, the lid slipped from my hands and I dropped it (just a few inches!) and it hit the back of the bowl part.

See that hole? 

I didn't think that hole was a big deal, just ugly, something I'd get around to replacing when life wasn't quite so sucky busy.

"MOMMA! The water's running into the floor!" (Clean water from the tank, not the "other" water.)

"(Sigh) Don't worry, you guys are just going to have to use the other bathroom until Momma can fix it."

Later in the evening, à la Bil Keane, somebody snuck into the house and used the broken toilet!

The Culprit? NOT ME!!!

That's okay Mr. NOT ME... I fixed your little wagon...

Let's see the smarmy little (*%*&^$* get past THAT!

Ahem!

So in a few minutes I'm off to buy a toilet and ruin spend part of the rest of my day installing it.

What did I start this post with? Oh, yeah, changes to the blog.

I was thinking of submitting JustKellyHere in for a blog review. I checked the review site, and apparently they HATE auto-play playlists, long archive lists (Mine isn't that long. Does that archive list make my butt look big?) and (their words) Long A** Linky Love Lists. (I like links. I care about my links. They stay.)

I read some of their site and they don't seem very nice. Do I really want to submit my little love-labor to these evil folks for them to tear apart? Well, there is the remote chance they'd like it, and isn't it fun when that person who hates everybody, hates everybody, but you? 

Maybe that's why sites set up for the sole purpose of making fun of people are so popular, so we can look at them and think "At least that's NOT ME."


Ya know what? I don't need their approval. More power to them as they do what they do,  but I'm taking my little blog and going home.

So, you guys rate JustKellyHere. Please tell me what you like and what you don't in the comments. Let me know if you want the playlist put back on auto-play.

I'm going to buy a toilet.

Okay, So I'm Full of Myself. Meanwhile, you can fill up on Five-Minute Chocolate Cake

The MC asked me why I blog. He does. not. get. it. When I tried to answer him, I didn't get it either, or at least not well enough to tell him. I told him about always wanting to write, the original mission of this blog and so on.

What surprised me was he didn't call BS. (I hope because the answer I gave him was mostly true.) The teensy part I didn't mention (but I'm sure he knows) is that blogging appeals to my ego. I'm owning up to it. The idea that people actually come see what I'm up to, actually enjoy reading what I write, feeds that little sucker. This especially true since I started monitoring hits with a couple stat counters.. it's so fun to see that little spike in the graph! (Besides, you people are so stingy with comments... I digress.) I also noticed that when I blog more often, I get more hits per entry... go figure. Gotta keep it current.

So, with that in mind, I recently made a deal with myself to blog more often, shooting for twice a week. I realize I'm going to have to be entertaining to keep you coming back. Unfortunately, my brain is shutting down from papers and studying and school projects and work projects and elementary school stuff, and kid stuff and Friends' stuff and my stuff and at some point if I kept going along this vein your eyes would being seeing the words but your brain would be hearing the following, and you'd probably be doing what Peppermint Patty is doing here:

So, I've been scoping out other blogs for sources of entertainment for you people. One technique I discovered for those "hard to come up with material" days is the photo essay. 

SO, for your entertainment and edification, I now present to you a photo essay from a recipe someone sent me on email. I actually posted this on Facebook about 6 months ago... but I'm short on brainpower and this is easy. If you don't enjoy it, I'm sorry. (But will you please please please keep coming back anyway?)

Five Minute Chocolate Cake

Warning! Dangerous! Continue at your own risk! If you read this you will be only five minutes away from chocolate cake at any given time!!!!

First you need these... a tablespoon a butter knife...
and you also need a large coffee mug (not shown)

Put 4 tablespoons of this in the mug

Then 4 tablespoons of this

Then 2 tablespoons of this...
Stir all the dry ingredients with the butter knife until 
well blended...

Break this and put it in the mug...
Stir stir stir with the butter knife until well blended...

Add 3 tablespoons of this

Then 3 tablespoons of this...
Stir stir stir

Now 3 tablespoons of these, stir stir stir

Just a splash of this, stir, stir stir

All stirred up it looks like this!

Pop it in here, if it's 1000 watt, just set for 3 minutes, 
if it's stronger, lower the power setting. 
I set mine for 9 but I think 8 might have been better. 
It will start growing

And growing

And GROWING EVEN MORE!!! 
(Next time I think I will try a bigger mug,
 but the recipe said it would grow out of the top)

Take your butter knife and run it around the edges... 
Dump it on a plate...
Have a little taste...

And the verdict is... pretty darn tasty! *

Makes enough for 3 really, but B.B. didn't want any!
Ice cream makes it PERFECT!

Enjoy!


* Thanks for playing, uh, neighbor kid...

Dealing with Frustration in a Therapeutically and Nutritionally Sound Manner

Arrrgh!

The MC and I had a conversation about this very expression the other day.

I was typing out some paperwork, hit a snag, emitted a quiet but frustrated, "Arrgh!"

(The) MC: How do you do that?

Me: What?

MC: You do it all the time. Wait, let me back up, when you make that noise, are you completely thrown or can you go right back to it?

Me: I go right back to it, why?

MC: I couldn't. That would throw me completely.

Me: You learn how. I do that to get my frustration out.

MC: (Snickering) So you're saying you let it out a little at at a time so you don't get impatient, like, say, I do?

Me. Your words not mine, Dude, your words not mine.

Aaaand speaking of frustration and impatience... 

B.B. is still pretty excited about kindergarten, all except for the walking everyday at recess.

What? You say your kindergartener didn't have to do that? That could be because your kindergartener isn't as evil high-spirited as Little Miss Boo.  In a week and a half she's managed to go ONE WHOLE DAY with no punishable offenses. YAAAY B.B.! One day in 10! Let's shoot for 2 next week!

She was quick to point out she only had to walk for 5 minutes of her recess today, usually she gets ten minutes. Hey, improvement's improvement, I'll take it.

Momma (me, not MY Momma) is rather diggin' the Kindergarten scene, too. For this one year, I have both babies under the same roof. Driving to only one location (rather than all over L-town) every morning is Suh-weet!  

That said, time diminished my memories of what Kindergartener-parenting entailed. I've been spoiled by the angelic Miss P.D. of the upper-elementary grades. P.D. does her homework. P.D. only needs Momma to check her backpack periodically. Fifth-graders (Fifth grade? Where did the time go?) aren't required to bring in snack for the whole class once a month.

I had also forgotten the rigors of 702 KAR 6:090. What's 702 KAR 6:090 you ask?  It is the Kentucky "Minimum nutritional standards for foods and beverages available on public school campuses during the school day" 

You buy that don't you? I don't. I've seen what they serve through the cafeteria... However, it IS the standard sent home with the note telling you that you need to get ready for your child's snack day turn. Kindly enough, they also send a list of 45 pre-approved, pre-packaged snacks for you to choose from at your shopping leisure. How convenient!

B.B.'s day to bring snack is tomorrow. I told P.D. to put a check by the ones she thought would be the best so I wouldn't end up buying B.B. a "nerdy" snack for her first snack day. Nothing but coolness for my baby.  That pecking order forms early. P.D. made some good choices, Baked chips, animal crackers, Teddy Grahams... easy, right? Everybody carries the little individual packages of these items, right?

Uh, no. No they don't.

We strolled non-nonchalantly through the L-town Kroger this afternoon without a care in the world. We only needed a few items, it was only 4:45, we'd take our time and enjoy our shopping. At just over 3/4 of the way through the  store, maybe Aisle 12, we arrived in the "cracker" aisle, perfect place to find pre-packaged animal crackers, or Cheese Nips or Teddy Grahams, right?

Animal Crackers? Wrong brand. Cheese Nips? None. Teddy Grahams? Wrong size package. Nabisco 100 Calorie Wheat Thin Packs? No multi-packages containing only the Wheat Thins, but variety packs with the Wheat Thins and 2 kinds that weren't on the list. That's okay, the 702 KAR 6:090 guidelines are right here on the list, only 3 main criteria to worry about: Sugar Content, Percent of Calories from Fat, and Sodium Content. Let me check on the back of these other two bad boys... at only 100 calories they gotta pass, right?

Fail.

After 20 minutes of this, we trouped back across the store to the breakfast food, Aisle 4: list in hand, forget cool. Surely Kroger would have

Chex Morning Mix snack packs? No.

Single serving packages of:

     Kellogg's Corn Flakes? No.
     Frosted Mini Wheats? No.
     Raisin Bran? No.
     Good Old Cheerios? No.

We reversed direction, this time to Aisle 13, the chip aisle. Where the heck were the Baked Lay's mini bags? Luckily a nice young man in a Kroger shirt happened by. I showed him the list and he mentioned a couple items he thought they might have in stock. He also directed me to the Lay's variety packs. (B.B.'s number one choice by this time) Back in Aisle 1. *sigh*

We arrived back in the bread section to find the correctly-sized bags of chips, Yaay!

None of these were baked chips, as required by 702 KAR 6:090 ... Booooooo.

We trudged back to Aisle 4 in search of the Quaker Chewy Granola bars, Chocolate Chips. The heavens opened up and an ethereal light shone down, the "angel" music played... lo and behold, LEGAL* SNACKS!!!!

Except, B.B. said, "NO Mommy! That's what we had for snack TODAY! Those aren't very good, Mommy."

I'm exhausted. By this time it's almost 6:30. Yet, how could I send my baby daughter, on her very first turn for snack-day, to school with a snack she didn't even like? That would just be cruel! Yet, in adherence with the nutritional wisdom of the 1990 Kentucky General Assembly, I HAD to comply with 702 KAR 6:090, right?

We made a different selection.



This was the one other item at the L-town Kroger that met the criteria espoused by 702 KAR 6:090, and therefore, made it to the "acceptable" list:

Banana-Flavored Cream-Filled Cakes covered in Crisco! YUM!!!!

*Sigh* Only in Kentucky....

*Kroger also had the Quaker Chewy Granola Bars in PEANUT BUTTER Chocolate Chip, (as approved on the list) but as any good elementary-school-aged child's mother knows, you go to hell for sending any product containing peanuts to school.

Aaaaah! and Texting with the MC

Okay, all of you who encouraged me and said I could do this grad school thing and be a single mom and hold a job/manage an internship: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!!!

If you're guilty of this, please raise your hand...

(Looking up seeing hand) Oh, this was originally MY idea wasn't it? (Well, sort of)

I have 4 baskets of clean laundry still waiting to be folded... (Okay, so that's not really new).

I have a new shower curtain somewhere in this mess that once resembled our living space... if I could find it to put it up...

I have a passel of car-wash supplies I bought 2 weeks ago (not to mention a gently used wet/dry vac Daddy gave me 3 weeks ago) hoping I'd find an 2-hour window in which to attack Kermit...

My hair is longer than it's ever been... not because I want it long but because I can't find time to get it cut.

I have SERIOUS grad-school Senioritis...

I have children who are starting to forget what I look like...

Hopefully,  I'll remedy some of that this weekend. Then... between Monday, August 22 and Thanksgiving I'll have two (count them, 1, 2) of  sixteen weekends off until Thanksgiving. I will have eight (count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 6, 7, and 8) internship classes to attend from 6-9 pm on every other Thursday night. I will have clinic on Tuesdays, which means no getting home before 7 pm  on seventeen (count them 1, 2, 3... oh nevermind) Tuesdays in that period. Oh, and that doesn't even touch the HOMEWORK I'll be doing, the tests I'll have to take.

But then, I'll be DONE. At least with THIS chapter's struggles. MAN I want a cigarette, but I'm 3 months, 2 weeks and 11 hours smoke-free, so I can't even do THAT!!!

Speaking of done, I'm wrapping up this semester's paperwork this week. Part of that is my evaluation of the Master Counselor, (the MC) then his evaluation of me. As you may have guessed, every now and then, I have to remind Mr. OCD to take a breath to avoid a freak-out. Last night, I had class at 6, but 5:50 I hadn't heard from my babysitter and had to call for backup... knowing class had already begun while I waited. No pressure. To amuse myself, I texted the MC.

Me: What's that I'm always telling you to do? Breathe?

MC: Yes, what's up?

Me: Babysitter didn't show. Waiting for backup... I'm okay... Just not breathing. :-/

Later, in internship class, I got his reply:

MC: S--t happens! (yes, he put the dashes in... sometimes he chooses to show a semblence of tact)

Me: Be nice to me. I'm evaluating you as we speak.

MC: Ya but don't forget, I play a role role in your FINAL grade.

Me: Look here you old coot, you should be looking for grade HIGHER than an A to give to me for putting up with your S--t!

(Okay, so I didn't really send that last one, but I WANTED to.)

Tidying Up

Sigh...

The world encroaches yet again on my imaginary playground...

I knew this day was coming, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. Early on in my schooling for counseling, I learned that I'd have to be very private about my private life. I realized  that I'd have to "fix" my blog. I just didn't expect it would be so soon. I didn't realize it would be so easy to "stumble" across it.

Someone ran a search using bare facts about me... and found it lickety-split. I'm not angry with the searcher, I would have been curious, too. I just didn't realize I'd be found so easily... even without my last name. I've removed my last name, and I'm undergoing the painstaking process of finding every instance with the girls' names and changing those. You'll find their identifiers in "Peeps"... sigh.

"P.D." hates her new name, and I don't blame her. I hate that I have to change it, that's not the name I gave her. Although part of me still feels that people are basically good and doesn't think anyone would use the information here against me... it's not my place to be so trusting. My job is to err on the side of caution in any matter that could impact my babies.

I'm wondering if I should change the name of the town I live in, or my hometown, or Deat's hometown. They're all three pretty small places.   I want to complain some more, but I have to get back at it.

Please pardon the mess while we undergo reconstruction.

Lesson Planning While Mowing

It's my day off and the Girls have been at G&V's all week... I'll be heading that way Friday or Saturday, haven't made up my mind which.

I just finished mowing the too-tall grass in the backyard and I believe the girls and I will be having a Zen-grammar lesson when they return home. It will start with me pointing at the trashcan...

Okay my little grasshoppers, what is this? That's right, a trash can...

A THING

And what kind of noun is it? Correct! It's a THING!

(Yes, they'll get that, we own the Schoolhouse Rock DVDs, including the song below)



But! What if I told you this lowly trashcan TRANSCENDS the confines of being only one type of noun? What if I told you it can be BOTH of the other kinds of noun too?

A PERSON

You see, this trashcan is our FRIEND. Mr. Trashcan opens his mouth and eats all the stuff we don't want, and holds it until we can take it out front to his big brothers,  who also hold it until the nice garbage men come and take those nasty unwanted things away.

Isn't that nice of Mr. Trashcan? AND!

A PLACE

This trashcan is a place, a place you MUST learn to make a destination in your lives. This trashcan is THE PLACE you immediately go when you are out in the backyard and you've just finished say

• a bottle of bubbles,
• Or a Popsicle,
• Or a bottle of water...

You should then realize your hand now holds an EMPTY

• bubble bottle,
• Or Popsicle wrapper,
• Or water bottle...

Think "TRASHCAN! That's where I need to be!"

And don't OPEN that hand until you get there; do NOT allow any of these items to fall into the grass where Mr. Mower can get hold of them.

This trashcan is the PLACE to go. Do not continue playing. Do not head for the swing, or your little club area, or anywhere else. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Go DIRECTLY to the trashcan.

Got it, Grasshoppers? Tomorrow we'll be learning about the noun-hood of Ms. Kitchen Sink.

This lesson falls under the MMPP (Mean Momma Prevention Plan) along with running and getting my nicotine gum for me whenever I ask.

Now, snatch the pebble from my hand...

My New Slogan

Stop. Go. Justkellyhere.

Enter a word for your own slogan:

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator. Get more JustKellyHere slogans.

Stole this from Capricorn Cringe from a post way back in her blog. I'm reading 3 year old posts from her blog so I can ignore the laundry pile RIGHT BESIDE ME waiting to be folded...

Ugh, I just reminded myself... guess I have to go now... (pout)


In other news... (See how I did that? ADD is so handy sometimes.) Tomorrow is the LONG day of the work week so I'll be carefully observing the MC for something blog-worthy. Stay tuned!

Blog Time I Didn't Want...Except...

I didn't plan to blog today. I had lots of plans for getting other things in my life accomplished... Except...

This week has been crazy hectic. To explain:

Prior to my tenure with him, and in all his brilliance, the Master Counselor devised a counseling program that is unique to Kentucky. I can't say more than that or risk revealing his identity. (If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya, mostly, because he'd kill me.) I am very impressed with said program... but I wasn't impressed with the forms for documentation. Well, I take that back... considering the difference between my technological experience and his, I was VERY impressed with the forms he created... they just needed a little tweaking for consistency's sake and to make them easier to edit later.

So, I set about creating a "style" for his documentation and redesigning the forms a bit...  it was just going to be something to piddle with when I had free-time between other assignments. I figured it would also benefit me in that I'd learn more about his program and real-world counseling documentation in the process.

Let me say something right here to further explain why this project is so important to me: The MC pays me even though he didn't have to. I need the hours and experience I get in his office in order to graduate.  He even pays me for the hours I spend observing while he counsels clients. To say I feel an extreme debt of gratitude to the MC is an understatement; this project represented my chance to bring something of real value to him.

The MC liked my initial work, but other chores needed to take precedence... until last Wednesday. On Wednesday morning he announced that a government agency (who shall also remain nameless) would be coming in one-week hence to inspect the program at the satellite office... and he wanted all his documentation forms and program introductions in the new style... (No pressure Kel, just do your thing! Gulp..)

So we've spent hours and hours editing, revising and revamping. I couldn't wait to see what the inspector would think of them... Except...

When I asked the MC Monday if I could observe the inspection he said he thought the fewer people present at the inspection, the better; and his partners in the program would be there as well. No big, except I really wanted to go. We spent yesterday at his satellite office and had a really good day, so (hoping in his good mood, he would change his mind) I asked again, and got the same answer. (Oh well, rats.) This morning I went in to his main office early to help him put the finishing touches on his files and et cetera before the meeting.

The MC looked at me and said, "I've been thinking, it must be really important to you to be present for that inspection to have asked me twice. If you can be quiet and defer ANY question they have to me, you can go." ... Except...

I looked down at the VERY casual t-shirt and blue jeans I was wearing and thanked him but told him no, I was really under-dresssed. (RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS!!!!) He left for his meeting at his satellite office at 11:00 this morning, and took all the files with him so I have the afternoon off. He's probably in the meeting right now. Those inspector folks will have no idea of all the hard work we put into those forms in the last week, and probably won't care how about how beautifully formatted they are... but the suspense is killing me just the same.

Meanwhile, back in school... I have a major take-home exam due for my second Assessment/Diagnosis class tomorrow afternoon. On Saturday, Dr. O. handed out the info-packets that included all the information we'd need to put together the Mock Diagnostic Report that would be our Final Exam. He was one info-packet short. Since I knew some of the others in my cohort wanted to start on their's right after class, I said no problem, I'm planning to head to my parents' house right after class and won't get started on it this weekend anyway, just email it to me and I'll print it out. I only half-jokingly said "email it NOW" to make sure I'd have it. Dr. O, said he couldn't at the moment, but assured me he'd email it as soon as he got home...  Since The MC turned me down on Monday and Tuesday, I planned to do it this afternoon... Except...

It's not there in my in-box. If I don't get an extension on this assignment I will kill him.

My other possible project I had planned for this afternoon was to get the laundry caught up again... Except...

Also on Saturday, I was ALMOST caught up on all the laundry, the washing part anyway. I only had one more load washing to go into the dryer; and one last load to go into the washer, so I asked my babysitter to put the load in the dryer and get the other load started in washer while I was in class... I'd put the last load in the dryer, catch up all the folding and putting away in a couple hours: the girls and I would head to P-town after that.

When I got home from class, the washer was full of water and not doing a thing. I ran upstairs and checked the breaker box: no problems. I checked the breaker on the power strip where the extension cord from the washer was plugged in, it was blown... yaay? No. Trying to turn on the washer blew it again. Sigh. Unplug the breaker, plug the extension cord directly into the wall... nothing. Check the breaker box again, no problems. Try the power strip again... nothing... but the light on the dehumidifier that was also plugged into the power strip was still on.

Call Daddy, see if he knows why I'd get this series of electrical indications. Daddy says he thinks my problem is not with the electricity but the washer itself. He also says, "I'll be there in a couple hours" (Daddy is 73 years old. He taught me tons and tons about home repair when I was growing up. He didn't NEED to drive 100 miles to look at my washer. I suspect he knew he didn't need to, but I also suspect it made him feel good to show me he loved me enough to drive 100 miles to look at my washer.)

Meanwhile, I keep checking everything out. I could hear the motor "start" to work, then stop. The tub would turn, but begrudgingly. Was there something down in between blocking it? I disassemble the whole cabinet so I can check, can't find anything, so I use my wet-dry vac to drain the water,  then put everything back together. (Mostly so Daddy can order me to take it apart again when he arrives.) Daddy gets here, we try this, we try that, we suspect the motor is toast but we don't know so I'll have to call a repairman...

I had work and class Monday, and a 12 hour workday yesterday... so said repairman couldn't come until today... and OF COURSE he'd have to order the motor: it will be in tomorrow. He also mentioned that washing machine motors often blow because the washers were plugged into extension cords and didn't get enough electricity to allow them to work properly. (Just like the way MINE is set up) Which I would remedy... Except...

There is no plug anywhere within reach of the only place in my house that I could possibly PUT the washing machine...  I wish Daddy had taught me how to be an electrician...

Oh well, I could still spend the afternoon folding some of that huge pile of clean clothes that still needs folding... Except...

I had to type this out for you. ;)

Forbidden Love

Have I mentioned I hate big decisions? I do. What a REALLY hate are the conversations six months later.

"I wish I had zigged. If I only had zigged instead of zagged..."

(Oh, you noticed that I started this post with an "I hate.."?  Why yes, I am still smoke-free, why do you ask?)

We are now entering the standard "Big Long Story" portion of the post: the part that exists to befuddle you before we tie the opening statement and the title all together at the end. You may proceed.

Daisy the Dakota is dying, a slow and painful death. A couple of months ago, I noticed anytime Daisy idled (for instance, at a stoplight) her oil pressure gauge dropped to nothing. I've had her looked at twice for that, with various parts changed to no avail. Now, I just rev Daisy to keep her oil pressure up instead of allowing her to idle. The people ahead of me in the Mickey D's drive-thru LOVE when I do that!

Last week (on the one day it didn't rain) I turned on her air conditioning for the first time this year. I watched her temperature gauge immediately rush to the danger zone. Fortunately, we weren't far from home and when I turned her heater on it dropped again; the girls and I only had to play mobile sauna for about a mile.

And, Monday, she reminded me that wet weather just DOES NOT suit her; she died in the parking lot at P.D.'s school. She made all those teasing noises that say "If you'll just keep trying to start me, I might just go..." as behooves her sadistic tendencies. Of course, this was before I got B.B. dropped off, and only 45 minutes before my scheduled follow-up meeting in C-town for a THE internship... the one that is far more amazing than any I imagined I would be lucky enough to land... the one where the supervisor-to-be (The MC) specified in our previous meeting that I'd need reliable transportation.

Of course, I did what any resourceful single mom with all the emotional control of a counselor-to-be would do in this situation: I proceeded straight to my much-deserved nervous breakdown; then called Sabrina crying hysterically. Sabrina was able to decipher enough of my gibberish to come and get us, take me to drop off B.B., and calm me down enough to notify The MC that I'd be about 20 minutes late. She even thought to bring a book to read so she wouldn't be bored during my meeting.

God loves me. He gave me Sabrina.

As we drove to C-town, we discussed my need to buy something reliable. I told Sabrina I began looking the Friday before, after my first meeting with Mr. F (edit: now known as The MC). I whined about having such a hard time finding something I could afford without mega-miles on the odometer. She asked me what I had priced, then stopped me.

"Kelly, those are all trucks."

"Uh, yeah."

"Why haven't you looked at any cars?"

Because I drive a truck. I've driven a standard-shift truck, of one make or another, nearly my whole adult life. I belong in a truck. Really, would I look right in a sedan? A coupe? Pul-eeze. My truck is an extension of who I am.

Okay,  I learned to like Kitty, I learned to trust her. She was responsive and aimed to please. But she was an exception. I'd be okay if Kitty was still around, but even if Lying Lady had not lied, and her insurance company had paid, Kitty's repairs would cost more than her book value. I didn't think I'd find another Kitty.

Sabrina reminded me/enlightened me about a few things on our trip that day:

1. I, apparently, am such a boy!
   "You fix plumbing, you took apart your mower, you have your own tool-box. You talk about trucks the way most women talk about jewelry."
   Well, okay, yeah, I knew that. I'd much rather do the "honey-do's" than the housework.
   
   
2. "You need to get over the idea that you need a truck. Trucks are expensive to buy, and expensive to own. You need a car if for no other reason than the gas-mileage."
    Well, yeah, I knew that, too. Auto companies stopped making fuel-efficient trucks in the 90's.
   
   
3. Driving a person around who seldom rides with other people (and who has A.D.D. to boot) is much like driving around with Sabrina's Labrador in the front seat. Said person is used to watching the road, so when said person doesn't have to, said person's head zips around with a similar zeal.
   "Oooh, look at that! And that! And THAT!"
   Apparently, taking me places is quite amusing.

I accept Sabrina's assessments, and I at least told her I accepted # 2.

After my meeting, she took me to a car lot she recommended because she knew the owner was a stand-up guy. She waited in her car while I looked.

I even gave that older model red Grand Am serious consideration. I dickered with the salesman for a better deal (and, according to Sabrina, I am such a boy at negotiation too.) But then, the salesman had to mention it...

The 2003 F-150 extended cab that they were repairing at the shop up the street to get it ready to sell. Clean title. 93,000 miles.She booked for $8,000. Had a loan value of $6,800. Might be able to let me have it for $5,400.  You can go look at it if you like...

I got back in with Sabrina and tried to look nonchalant.

"I don't know about that car, Sabrina, I think I better let my father-in-law look at it..."

"Oh, stop, you forgot all about that car the second he mentioned that truck."

Sigh.

After lunch Sabrina took me back to Daisy who by this time was feeling much drier and more cooperative. I took Daisy straight my mechanic and insisted he check her distributor cap. Yep. Thirty minutes and fifty bucks  later we were back in business.

I tried not to think about that F-150, even as I was turning the wrong way (toward the car lot's shop. not home) out of my mechanic's.

I went to see her. She's beautiful. V-6 motor. A milky silver color. Supercab. Sport package. Two rear suicide doors that preserve her sleek lines. (I'm not into Crew Cabs.) Black bed cover. Lots of leg room up front, acceptable leg room in the back. Good stereo. Automatic transmission, but I can overlook that. Automatic windows. Keychain door locks. (I never had THOSE before!) I looked it up, she'd likely get 14 mpg in the city and 20 mpg on the highway...

I *could* make my route back and forth to my internship highway miles as much as possible...



She looks a lot like this one, but with a bed cover instead of that silly rack. I'd look good tooling around in that, no?

Yesterday I took her paperwork to run it by Perry, one of Deat's closest friends here in L-town. He said No.

Last night I called Pat the Wonder Brother and told him about her. He said No.

Tomorrow, I'll take G. and V. to see her so they can say no.

Mostly because I know I should, but I don't want to say no.

I've always secretly wanted an F-150, but it just does not appear to be in the cards for me. I'm going to have to say no.

I hate making big decisions because I have to be PRACTICAL.

But wouldn't "Felicity" be a nice name for her?

bin Laden's Dead and I Want a Cigarette

I didn't plan to blog today. I mean, I don't want my readers to get the idea I'm consistent or anything.. But it's something of a monumental day, so I figured I had better say something. 

Osama bin Laden is dead. I will say, I was surprised by the sheer volume of jubilation I found over on Facebook and throughout the news. I neither lament nor celebrate this event. After all these years I'm a bit numb to it.

Nonetheless, when I remember September 11, and as we all remember, where I was and what my thoughts were... I think I would have rather he come to trial and answered for his crimes. If it had to end this way I think I still agree with Capricorn Cringe over on The Friggin' Cat House,  "I’m glad we didn’t drop a bomb on his head. I’m glad he went out shooting, because that means he knew exactly what was happening and who was doing it. And why." 

I do wonder, will his death make us safer or incite more violence? We shall see.

Right Turn, Clyde. (Start at 1:20.)

In other news: I started using my Nicorette gum today. B.B. hasn't felt well, I ran out of cigarettes around lunch time and didn't want to drag her out to buy more. The gum does keep the edge off, but offers none of the satisfaction of my habit. But, I've come this far; I might as well keep going.

So, I'm joining the ranks of non-smokers. I don't have to like it. I'm just doing it. I really don't have a desire to be a non-smoker. I'm not proud of myself... I'm really kinda pissy.  So much so, I'm actually using the word pissy in my blog and not cringing (much).

Please don't tell me you're proud of me, or send me big congratulatory notes. I hate this. If you make a big deal out of it, it could be just the impetus I need to go buy a pack... just to rebel against your joy. That's the kind of person I expect to be for a while. Consider yourself warned.

I just re-read the last two paragraphs. Maybe this gum doesn't really take as much edge off as I thought.

So again, don't be proud, don't congratulate, don't spread the news. Just forgive me for whatever I say the next time I talk to you and that will be plenty moral support for me.

When it rains... it's a dumb saying and it just ain't funny.

This is not funny. Well, maybe I can make it funny, but at the moment, it ain't. I wasn't going to write about the accident at all, but now I have to.

It all started earlier this month. After dropping B.B. off, I decided to treat myself to McD's for breakfast. I was so looking forward to getting home to enjoy my coffee, my McMuffin and hours of quiet to work on a paper.

It was raining... so I was driving Kitty. Kitty, at 140,000 miles, has surer footing and is much more reliable than Daisy is at 160,000. I was less than 1/4 mile from home, following a van. The van slowed, pulling onto the shoulder to the right as if it were going into the bank parking lot right there, so I slowed but continued forward.

Suddenly, the van veered back out in the road and in that split second when I saw the horrified look on the driver's face I thought to myself, "Gee, lady, don't cha know you need to check your rear-view before attempting an illegal u-turn?!!!"

But that was just a split-second. I tried evasive action to the left, but I was unable to get away from her. My passenger side front wheel made contact with her driver's side front wheel, rendering both vehicles undriveable. As we sat there, parallel to one another, I rolled down Kitty's passenger side window to hear her on the phone (with her husband, I presume) saying "I don't know how this happened, I was only turning left and I had my signal on."

At which point, I, um, lost my cool for a second (Kitty was UN DRIVE ABLE! I only needed to go over the hill in front of us to BE HOME!) and snapped, "Oh lady, don't lie!"

Probably not the wisest move on my part... to save lots of time and LONG STORY... she persisted in said lie. To the point that the police officer, while he believed me, had to report both stories on the accident report and could not define fault as the pictures could not prove who was telling the truth. (Although, IMHO, any fool could see that her story, while possible, made absolutely no sense!)

Ahem! (regaining composure)

My insurance company said since they couldn't PROVE fault, declared equal fault, and since Kitty is so old and only had liability coverage, paid 1/2 of Lying Lady's damages, none to me. Her insurance company, since there was no way to prove fault, decided to pay NOTHING. I learned this over almost 2 weeks later, after Kitty had been sitting in a tow lot for all this time, racking up storage fees.

Luckily, I ran into the owner of the towing company (TJ) a few days later and explained the situation. After hearing the whole thing, he said he thought I should sue to get the truth to come out, and offered to only charge me the towing and not the storage. He took Kitty to a body shop owned by Rick, one of my former customers, and one of the nicest guys around. Rick is going to call me to let me know whether Kitty is worth fixing. (It pains me to say that,)

So, I'm stuck driving Miss Daisy (see Kitty's post) , who has been presenting all sorts of problems of late. I had to drive Daisy back to the farm (around 90 miles one way) for Easter since I hadn't been back home since Christmas. Easter weekend, as most of you know, was unbelievably wet. After running through a major puddle Sunday night, Daisy decided to stall at the next red light in P-town. After balking through 2 more light changes, she finally restarted and got us back to L-town without further incident.

Then tonight happened. The girls had rehearsal and got out at 7:30. It was again, raining cats and dogs. I was just going to run through a drive thru to get the girls something hot, fast. On the way to the restaurant, I encountered a huge puddle, and a car coming in the other direction, so I couldn't avoid it. She started stalling in the middle of the 192 bypass, but I was able to keep her running long enough to get into the drive thru... where she died. Kept trying to start her, but no luck.

Since she's a standard, and there was ample hill and parking lot behind the restaurant, (it's adjacent to a truck stop) I had to put her in neutral, get out and push her backward, (in the rain, with two little girls in the truck, while some nice man in a car watched me) so I could turn the wheel to get her started downhill. Popping the clutch didn't work. (P.D. and B.B. are cheering their little hearts out, begging Daisy to start... but that didn't work either.)

So now it's 8:15, pitch dark, raining to beat the band, and I'm about a mile from home with no way to get there with two tired little girls with me. I reasoned that while if Daisy had a chance to dry out she might start in the morning, I would be stuck with absolutely no way to get the girls to school if I left Daisy where she sat. I needed to call and get her towed home. (TJ's, of course!)

I started to call Sabrina, but Sabrina's helped me over and over and over again with the girls since I've been in school, so I called Filly. My thinking was first things first, get the girls home and dry... besides, there wouldn't be room in the cab of the tow truck for all three of us. Filly said she'd come and get the girls while I called TJ's.

Meanwhile, the two little girls and I are sitting in the bottom of a dark parking lot with our blinkers going. Of all the cars that passed us, only one nice guy pulled up to see if we could use help. I didn't get his name but I will definitely be sending blessing prayers his way tonight.

The truck arrived driven by none other than TJ himself! I told him I had a friend coming to get the girls, and he agreed to wait. Immediately after that short conversation, my phone rang and it was Filly telling me that about 2 feet of water was running over her road and she couldn't get to me... sigh.

The point of all that: Don't tell lies, even to save yourself money or heartache. You have no idea how your lies may affect someone else, or whether their situation might actually be worse than yours would have been if you'd told the truth. If I'd had Kitty (she would already be repaired if the lady told the truth!) none of the first part of tonight would have been an issue. Still, I forgive the lady... maybe she had mean husband and was scared he'd be mad at her for causing the wreck. Anyway....

So, we're stuck, right? NO. TJ said to get in my truck and put it in neutral, and he'd just take us all home that way. By this time I was game for anything. So, here we went, riding along as my truck was winched up onto the slant bed, then riding again as the bed picked us up and moved back into the flat position. TJ said if to just call his cell from mine if he accidentally drove past my house....

Here we go... riding around the 192 bypass at what felt like ten feet off the ground, lights ablazing everywhere. I felt like I should practice my celebrity wave if it hadn't been too dark and rainy for anyone to see me. The girls decided with all the lights going and riding so high up in the air that they were on a carnival ride. Wheee!

Hey, at least they have a new, interesting memory. They'll probably tell their kids about this.

We arrived home to find no electricity. We had to run around hunting for candles so I could see to write the check for the tow. (Which, I'm thinking, he cut me YET ANOTHER break on.) When the electricity came back on a few minutes after TJ left, I noticed that the floor in the basement looked awfully shiny... I turned on the basement light... 2 inches of water.

This is the same basement I spent the whole summer of 2009 agonizing over who I'd get to water-proof it. The same basement I nearly bleached myself to death in trying to kill any leftover mold from BEFORE the waterproofing.... The same one I just had tiled a few months ago because I was FINALLY confident that it wouldn't leak again. The same basement where the girls had just put ALL their toys so they could have nice restful bedrooms and a nice playroom downstairs.

Sump pumps don't work when the electricity goes out...

Instead of a quick, hot supper, the girls had peanut butter and jelly, and I'm REALLY hoping Daisy will start in the morning. Filly said she'll come and get the girls if she won't.

I am still blessed in many ways: I already knew TJ and that was comforting; if Kitty is fixable I know Rick will be fair with me; the girls weren't overly traumatized by tonight's events and didn't have to be out in the rain; I have some very dear friends I can call when I'm in a bind like this one; and I have something of a backup plan for tomorrow. I may be able to salvage some of the girls' toys, I always said they had too many. Oh, and something interesting happened in my life so I could write about it.

I apologize. I really thought I could put a better spin on this. (I will admit, I had to laugh at the girls' "carnival ride" earlier tonight.) I'm sure I'll find it all amusing in about 6 months...

But tonight? While I can find some silver linings...

Well, it just ain't funny.