I'm going to start blogging again.

It's nearly 11 p.m. on a Monday night.  Our first Monday back to work after a week-long stay-cation. A week long staycation that was intended to be an opportunity for Jimi and I to catch up on some things around the house - laundry room organizing, painting, maybe a bedroom revamp. We went to the park nearly every day, and the zoo once.  We kept the girls home with us every day but Friday and we were a family all together for 8 whole days and it was wonderful.  We got our house in order (mostly) on the day the girls went to the sitter because it was Friday, the end of the week, and we couldn't possibly enter into our weekend with our house in the state it'd become while we were busy playing all week.  Nothing was painted, nothing was organized (wait- i did organize the pantry. I'm counting that), nothing was revamped.  But, hey, we spent a week together as a family.  There will be time for painting and organizing and revamping when my girls aren't tiny anymore and no longer believe my attention is the most important thing in the world.  All my life I've wanted to be the moon and stars for someone.  Now I am.  For two.  My goodness, it's a lot of work.

So yeah, I had a baby.  Back in November.  Wow.  I'm a bit late with that announcement, I guess.  Poor baby.  I've got a birth story for her drafted and saved on here somewhere.  I'll post it eventually, I promise. I have to.  If I don't, it'll give her a complex.  "You wrote about G but not about me!"  Nah.  Not happening.

Her name is Cora Jaymes, and she's beautiful and perfect in every way.  She arrived at 8:43 a.m. on Saturday November 15, 2014 weighing in at a whopping

...

It's 11:15 Monday night.  :)  Cora weighed 9 pounds 1.6 ounces at birth, and was 22 inches long.  She's also had a stuffy nose for the last 3 months and it seems to be coming to its peak here lately.  I had to step away just now because she got choked on phlegm in her sleep and started coughing and gagging.  She and Geneva share a room now (as of 2 weeks ago - we finally moved our 19 pound, six month old baby into a crib and out of the bassinet!), so whenever the baby starts to stir, I'm in there as quickly as i can be so she doesn't wake Geneva with her cries.  Also, it's a good idea to respond when you hear your infant gagging.

All of my worries were so dumb.  I gave that last push, the one where you've decided "I don't care how bad it hurts I just need this to be over!" and you give it everything you've got - I gave that last push, and she was out and on my stomach and I looked down at her little purple warm body and saw that sweet little face and my brain was like "Oh.  Of course."  She's my girl, my daughter, my flesh - of course I love her as much as I love Geneva.  Of course it's just that easy.  Of course.  It makes so much sense now, on this side of it, but my mom-of-one brain couldn't grasp the concept.  This love thing, it's fucking powerful.

I can't catch up on everything now, not in this one post.  And maybe there's nothing to catch up on.  We've been living - this time has been so much easier than the first time, but that's not to say it's easy.  Cora nursed easily, but constantly.  My maternity leave was 8 weeks of plopping G in front of something "educational" on Netflix while I nursed our newest family member.  Knowing that cluster feeding is a thing, and that it will pass, saved my sanity this go-round.  Also, placenta encapsulation.  10/10, would do it again.  Jimi's been awesome, as expected.  I think Cora's his favorite, but mostly because she's a sweet cuddly little baby and Geneva says no and screams and demands that "mommy do it".  She's the most awesome 2 year old that ever 2'd.  God, she's cool. Seriously.  Her vocabulary is out of this world, and she speaks so clearly.  She has amazing thoughts and comments and observations.  Well, maybe not, she's 2.  But she's really cool for 2.  She is incredibly polite, and i'm so very proud of that fact.  She says "Thank you" and "Please" and "I'm sorry" in context and with feeling.  She loves her little sister.  She is a typical toddler and throws tantrums a few times an hour, but man, you wave that baby in front of her and it doesn't matter how serious the pout, her face breaks out into an amazing smile full of sunshine and love and she literally starts to coo and goo at Cora.  She hugs her and kisses her and plays with her and takes her toys and tells her stories and is always concerned about "where's baby at?"  Cora, for her part, is an equally awesome little sister. She loves her big sister and watches her every move, and I expect we don't have long before she's mobile.  She cut her first two teeth this past week - we've been anxiously awaiting that day for months, because, as I said, she's been snotty for three months. What else do you blame a snotty happy otherwise-not-sick baby on other than teething?  Cora is going to be a coppery redhead, I think, and it looks like her eyes are going to be a stormy blue or brown.  She's fair like the rest of us, and favors Jimi more than Geneva does.  You can tell they're sisters for sure, and there were times early on when I would watch her nurse and swear I was seeing baby Geneva all over again, but they are each beautiful in their own unique ways and don't really look a whole lot alike.  And I am going to have to be so careful about how I comment on this in front of them, but oh my god Cora is so big compared to Geneva!  Cora is hanging out in the 90th percentile for weight and the 100th for height, whereas G has always been real comfortable right around the 50th percentile mark for both.  There's only a 10 pound difference in their weights right now.  They are 20 months apart.

I can't wait to watch them grow up.  They're beautiful together, and I get to help them and watch them blossom and become the amazing women they're going to be... I'm so excited that this is my life, my journey.  I am so incredibly blessed.  What did I ever do to be so lucky, to deserve such riches?

So that's why I'm going to start blogging again.  Because I've missed too much already, and I don't want to miss more.  I won't get it all, but if I can get even a small snippet of the awesome that is this moment, right now, well, it's a worthwhile investment.

It's 11:52 p.m. on the first Monday after vacation.  The alarm is set for 6 a.m., but my human alarms will ring out at 2:15, 4:00, 5:30 and finally at 5:58 with "Mommy! Milkies!"  (Yes, I'm still nursing my toddler.  STFU about it, okay?)  I've had two beers in the last hour it took to write this and I'll be honest, I've got a bit of a buzz.  A rare reminder of what it used to be like back when I could drink more than half a beer before it got to hot or, more likely, forgotten.  I've missed writing.  It feels good to do it again, like going to the gym after being away for a while, but with more beer and sitting and less sweat and moving.  I'll have to do it more often.  Also, should go to the gym.

I want to go back and edit, but editing is for suckers.  Or people who've had less than 2 beers.  G'night, friends.  Sweet dreams.

I'm back, baby!

I've finally purchased a new laptop - I can blog at home again!  YAY!  I'm pretty excited about this purchase - it's a great computer, and it was extremely affordable.  It'll be nice to have a working computer in the house again - my Kindle has done a great job keeping me connected to the internet, but it doesn't replace a laptop. 

Thanksgiving was wonderful and exhausting all at once.  We spent the day getting ready and making a sweet potato casserole (why can I never remember that sweet potatoes leak?  You have to put something under them, Natalie, or they'll spooge all over your oven!), then headed for his cousin's house around 3.  They had an amazing, delicious spread, and I ate until my little heart was content.  (And then Laura Jo and I went for a walk, because I was going to die if I didn't get some of that food settled.)  I missed out on eating pie because I was too full, but Tracy was kind enough to send some home with us - a piece of apple and pecan.  Two days later, it's still in the kitchen waiting for me, but today may just be the day. 

Our evening was spent over at my Aunt Melissa's, where we played cards and perused Black Friday ads until one in the morning, at which point I was completely wiped out and finished and told Jimi, "We have to leave NOW."  Pam said I was getting grouchy - I wasn't grouchy, I was just done.  I'd socialized as much as I was physically able to socialize, and I needed my bed. 

I feel as though I've officially been welcomed into the world of Motherhood.  Jimi's cousins' wived descended upon me as soon as we arrived and started asking questions about my pregnancy and birth plans, and regaled me for hours with their birth stories and experienced mom-talk.  My aunts did the same.  It was a noticeable change - usually we all exchange pleasantries and catch up, then I flit around from group to group, mostly following Jimi around and talking to the menfolk.  Not this year - I was stuck to my seat as my birth preferences were questioned and doubted and poo-poo'd, as horrible scary NICU stories were told, as tales of mastitis and clogged ducts were shared.  If I never hear "Just wait and see - you'll change your mind" again, it'll be too soon.  I heard that on every subject - especially when I made the mistake of admitting I'm aiming for an unmedicated childbirth.  (Cloth diapering got its fair share of laughs, too.)  Why do we (women) do that to each other?  Experienced moms should know better than anyone how scary this time can be for a new mother.  I'm looking for support and encouragement and advice, and instead I get a snicker and a pat on the head as if I'm a fool for thinking I can do this any way other than on my back with a needle in my spine. 

I don't mean to bitch, I know their intentions are just to share their experiences.  I reminded myself over and over again that my pregnancy bares no resemblance to theirs - no scares, no bed rest, no complications for me, so far.  (Fingers crossed it stays that way.)  As I told them, this has been the easiest, most uncomplicated thing I've ever done, and that's completely contrary to what I expected.  If my body can handle pregnancy this well, I'm inclined to trust that birth is something it can handle well, also.  I trust my body, and I honestly feel that an unmedicated birth is the way it's supposed to happen, and that if I let it, my body can do this on its own.  I am not crazy for thinking this way, dammit!  Women birthed babies this way for thousands of years before doctors started strapping them to tables on their backs.  I can do this, and not because I'm a martyr or tough or want bragging rights, but because it's the way nature intended and I don't see any reason to fix what ain't broke. 

Okay, I'm off my soapbox. 

We're going shopping today for fabric and paint for baby girl's room, and planning to start her room transformation tomorrow.  I need drawer pulls and switch plates and a colorful rug.  I can't wait to watch this room come together; I can't wait to fill it with diapers and onsies and soft things for my daughter. 

My daughter.  If I think on those words just a second longer than it takes to say them, my eyes get misty.  I love her so much already.  It still fills me with a sense of disbelief that this is all happening to ME!  I have a big ol' round belly full of baby.  I can feel her flip and flop and kick and punch.  I've dreamed of and imagined this for so long, and now it is my reality, and that just blows my mind.  I'll never stop being in awe of this miracle we've created. 

Speaking of my big ol' round belly full of baby, clothing options are becoming more and more limited by the day.  It's still not awful - one day last week I wore and outfit comprised completely of pre-pregnancy clothes; proof that Jimi and Kim may be onto something when they say I buy my clothes in too-large sizes.  I'm still wearing two pair of pre-pregnancy pants, but they hardly count, as they're designed to be stretchy, what with their elastic waistbands and and polyester blends.  I have two pre-pregnancy sweaters that I wish I could wear every day, but the rest are too short now and don't fully cover my belly.  I've got a great flowy red shirt that's not maternity but totally could've been, so it's worked into the rotation regularly.  I had a couple of button-ups that still fit two weeks ago, but I fear that will not be the case the next time I try them on - the buttons were a bit strained last time I wore them.  Momma's bought me two maternity shirts (but I hate one - don't tell her - it is too low-cut and doesn't completely cover my dumb ol' bras) and I am now the proud owner of one pair of big-front-stretchy-panel jeans (that are actually really cute so long as you're not checking out the stretchy panel) and two pair of maternity yoga pants, which are going on the list of "Things That Prove God Loves Us".  I'm going to have to break down and buy some more long-sleeved warm shirts, but I think I'm going to be able to make my britches situation work until the very end.  I don't know what I'm going to do about a coat - mine still zipped last week, but that won't last much longer.  I'm not buying a new one, so I guess I'll just have to  hold it closed and hurry from the car to the office. 

Baby showers are being planned - looks like we're having two back-to-back in January, one hosted by the infamously sweet Maggie, the other by my Aunts.  (Stay put, little girl - no early appearances, okay?  I'd hate to miss a party thrown in our honor!)  Momma & Daddy are buying the crib (sort of a family tradition - Granny and Papaw bought the cribs for nearly all of their grandbabies), and Stacy and Jessie are passing down to us tons of baby things, so we won't have to register for a lot of big items.  (That hasn't stopped my wonderful research-driven husband from registering us for a $300+ stroller, though.  I fully expect we'll be purchasing that one on our own.)  I've been told we should start registries EVERYWHERE, as apparently there are tons of freebies and goodies given out for doing so, and plus, using that little scanner gun is fun.  I guess we need to get going on that pretty soon. 

It's all happening so very fast.  That second pink line showed up in June and it felt like it'd be forever before I had a symptom or a sign that it was real.  Now all I can think is "how will we get this all done in only 12.5 weeks?!" 

My left leg is starting to ache.  I think it's the way I'm sitting in this chair; I should probably get up and do some yoga stretches.  My hips hurt all the time - and what's up with the sore knees?  I sound like an old woman trying to get up or down into a seat, and getting out of bed the half-dozen times now required each night is an acrobatic feat.  Poor Jimi - he's sleeping on a sliver of mattress, pushed all the way to the edge by my belly and its accompanying island of pillows.  He's said that he'll need to break out the camping mattress any day now - his plan is to sleep there, with it pushed up next to our bed, so I can have the space I need to be comfortable.  I hate the idea of him being exiled from his bed, but I love him for understanding that drastic measures may be required some time in the next couple months. 

He's just the best man in the whole world.  I can't express enough how good and sweet he is, how loved and adored and appreciated and special he makes me feel.  We've been carpooling for the last two months or so because his truck is down, and when we get home each evening, I head for the heating pad while he stops in the kitchen and begins making dinner.  He's pulling more than his weight when it comes to household chores and cleaning, and encourages me to rest and take breaks when we're working on projects together.  He's a dream partner in this pregnancy, and I feel so fortunate that I have have him by my side. 

(Sometimes I find myself shuddering inside, imagining how my ex-husband would've compared, had we managed to get pregnant in those months that we tried.  I really dodged a bullet, man.) 

Okay, gotta go, it's shopping time.

(I'm so glad I made this purchase - it's good to be back to my blah blah blahing.  I want to have a record of this experience - I mean, it's only the neatest thing I've ever done.  Ever.)

Be Back Soon...

Okay then

I love getting good, honest feedback.  Thanks, Ladies!  So I'm in transition - out with the old "new" and in with a "new" new.  And the blogger editor thingy is not very cooperative right this moment, so we're going to go with a "plain jane" look for a bit, 'twould appear.  I wish I was cool and could do design work here.  But I'm not.  So I can't.  *sigh*

I was supposed to come home and mow the lawn.  I was looking forward to it, even!  But then...well, I'm not going to tell you why i'm not mowing the yard right now because i hate it when chicks blog about their menstrual cycles, but let's just say I'm not out there mowing the lawn and it's not in my future tonight.  Which is a lame-ass excuse, but it's mine, and there ya have it. 

Jimi was s'posed to stop on his way home and get Frontline for the cat.  He remembered to stop, he even remembered the litter - but when he got home and parked and pulled the bag from the truck, he realized the Frontline he'd purchased is the sort for the dog, not the cat.  D'oh!  Poor guy, he was so mad.  Fortunately, Feeder's Supply will exchange it without hassle - well, other than the hassle of having to make another trip.

Those are all the words I've got for now.  Happy Hump Day!

I'm going to help you make some new friends.

I'm wearing the "new" found pants today.  With a belt and my shirt tucked in, they fit pretty good; they're roomy.  :)

That's not the reason for this post, though.  A couple of women I greatly enjoy reading, Katie at Chicken Noodle Gravy and Bernie at One Mixed Bag have started a new project called We're Not Mommy Blogs, aimed at...well, let me let them explain it:

...a brand-new community designed to fill a niche that we felt was missing from bloggy land, a niche specifically for bloggers who, for whatever reason, don't have kids.


 We want We're Not Mommy Blogs to be a place for blog hops, networking, and friendship. We want it to be a resource for The Rest of Us, because we are a vastly ignored population in the blogging community and that needs to be fixed. 

This new community was featured today at Living on Less in a new blog hop called Make a Friend Monday:






Blog hops scare me.  I don't know why; it doesn't make any sense.  I'm just intimidated by them, okay?  I know, my crazy is showing.  (Stick around, there's plenty more where that came from.)  Anyhow, so I don't do blog hops usually, but I really like Bernie and Katie, and I think this new idea of theirs is swell and needed in the blogging world.  Check out the hop, check out Bernie and Katie, check out the not-mommy-bloggers at We're Not Mommy Blogs.  Make some new friends.  We all need more friends, right?

Happy Monday, folks!

Tuesday/Fridays are my favorite.

Yesterday was Monday and today was Monday again, even though it was Friday.  (Of course, it's REALLY Tuesday, but not for me, not this week!)

Are you following me?

(If not, you should.  I'm pretty awesome.)

Oh!  About that - today my name is Princess Awesomesauce.  Just so you know.

No one called me by my proper name today.  They just don't get it.

The new name thing, that is - they totally get that I'm awesome.

Do you hate it when bloggers blog a series of tweets that aren't meaty enough to be statuses?

I bought a new plant light to help my sad outdoor plants this winter - and Jimi, brilliant man that he is, suggested perhaps I could make my orchids very very happy, too.  (They usually just live in the window-sills.)  I'm enjoying watching my plants so much, I'm seriously considering buying another couple of lights and turning a large section of my basement into an indoor greenhouse.  I could grow lettuces and herbs and tomatoes and all sorts of awesomesauce things - and I really, really enjoy watching my plants grow.  It takes so little effort, but it's so rewarding to see a little sprout become a big, hearty, happy plant.  Sometimes I fantasize about going back to school and getting some sort of plant degree - how badass would it be to get paid to grow plants?

Have I mentioned how excited I am about the facial and massage and haircut tomorrow?  OMG, I can hardly wait.  Am I a selfish bitch?  I'm sure Stacy is going to love this just as much as I will, and that's why I want to do it for her - but I totally needed an excuse to do it for myself, too.  Just like when we were kids, and someone always made sure I got at least one present on her birthday, so I wouldn't feel left out of the excitement...but it's not like I'm going to take her to the day spa and sit in the waiting area for her.  Gift certificate smishertificate - I want some good touch too!!!

This 5-day weekend couldn't have arrived sooner - I'm so ready for some time off.  I love the holidays for that reason, if no other (though there are many more).  5 days in November, 9 days in December - recharging time.  Much needed, just in time.

TGIF, and all that jazz.

Coming soon...

I'm going to post something funny and amusing and entertaining.  Right here.  Any second now.

It's going to be brilliant.  It'll make you LOL and ROTFLYAO and OMGWTF?!2!

Right here.  Any minute now.  Hold on.  Brilliance takes time.

You're going to want to leave half a dozen comments about how it touched your soul and warmed your heart and made you think and helped you realize the world is full of beauty.  And then you'll want to share it with all of your friends and post links to it on your Facebook page.

Just give me a moment to get the words just right, okay?

It's still in the beginning stages, you see.  It's all in my head.  It's not in any specific order or formulation yet, but it's there, I can feel it.  I know I have it in me.  It's there, and it's good, and it'll be wonderful.

You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?  You feel it in yourself too, I know you do.  Somewhere inside, there's something you know you're going to do one day that will be awesome and fantastic.  You know it.

My problem is that I don't know where those words are, where the thoughts are hidden, what's covering them and keeping them from flowing freely through my fingers.  I don't know if my certainty, my belief, that I have something great inside me...I don't know if that's something I've made up inside my head, or if it's really a true thing that I'm not crazy to believe in.

You feel me?  Can you relate?  I can't be the only one.

Maybe it's because I don't do this more, I don't force myself.  I stare at a blank screen and listen to the emptiness inside my "things I want to write about" storage space in my brain, and I click back to Facebook and stare mindlessly at the screen, my scrolling making the words a blur, only stopping every tenth update or so to read the news being conveyed.  And then I come back to the blank screen.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

Words don't flow if you stop turning on the tap.

And Melinda was right - photo-only posts are a total cop-out.  They're pretty, but they don't replace words.

I think I've forgotten why I'm writing this blog.  I want to have a record of my life, of my thoughts, of my world.  I've stopped using my words.  I've felt like I've not had anything to say.  That's dumb.  I'm still living, right?

So yeah, one of these days, something brilliant, something hilarious, something awesome will be found here.  Probably not today.  But one of these days.

Any minute now.

Hate mail makes me popular, right?

"You are a fake ass cunt."

Definitely counts as hate mail, 

I'm sure you'll agree.  

Doubly so when it's left by "Anonymous" - 

because, 

you know, 

if Kim left it, 

it'd be another thing entirely.  

Eh.  

That's all I've got to say about that. 

I just wanted to make sure you all saw it.  :)  

Here's a picture I took with my new phone:

Happy Thursday!

My fingers threw up. All over the place. Sorry.

I got a new phone.  I haven't even gotten to play with it much yet, I've been so busy tonight.  Well.  Busy is a relative term, I guess.  I went to Melinda's to decorate our reception Crocs (more on that later), and then I came home for my hot date with Sookie and Eric and Bill and Niall.  I've finished book 9...now I wait until Rick's finished with 10 so I can put the entire series to rest.  And the raccoon is back in the attic.  No, we never did anything about it this summer, and now he's back.  Oh fucking boy.

I feel bad when I blog about religion - like I'm destined to offend someone.  It's like how I want to blog about how I feel about some personal shit, but I can't because maybe those people will read my blog and then they'll know what I'm too chickenshit to say to them and they'll be mad at me so I don't blog it at all.  Do I have to be that way with religion too?  Even though I'm trying to work it out for myself?

There's a lot I don't say; mostly because it'd be too many words and I'm lazy as all get out.  I get tired of trying to explain myself three paragraphs in...

I don't know where else to say the things I think sometimes.

My pee stinks.  I haven't had asparagus lately; I wonder if it was the wine?

Oh, and that personal shit I don't blog about?  It's not about you, Kim.  Swear.  Promise.  It's not about Jimi, either.  Or work.  It's just stuff I want to blog about desperately but can't because I'm afraid I'll hurt someone's feelings...

I fucking hate it when bloggers do that shit, don't you?  Gosh!  Alright, here's the thing - not in my household, but there's a baby on the way and there's no money and there's a lack of a lob involved and maybe not a lot of job hunting? and I'm just really frustrated and worried.  I can help some, but not enough, and I have reservations about some gestures...  (Do you offer to pay the electric bill, or do you just invite them over extra for dinner to spare them that expense?)

I work in an industrial park near a college campus.  There are street walkers, prostitutes, hookers (pick your moniker) that populate the area - lately I've come to notice a couple in particular.  One was a lady I saw last week, and today, for the first time, I saw the hooker with the walker - the one my boss refers to every time I mention the hookers on 4th street.  The hookers on 4th street are not attractive ladies; no no, rather, they're the picture in the dictionary next to "rode hard and put up wet".  Everything about their face looks tired, and it's heartbreaking.  They carry themselves with a certain manner - head down, eyes up, shoulders forced back, but you can tell they're faking the "I'm awesome" vibe they're trying to send.  Their faces are weathered and worn and craggy with lines that tell stories that would give us nightmares.  I can't see them without picturing, only for a moment, what they will be doing in an hour or two, what they've chosen as their craft, what they've been reduced to doing to make enough for a meal or two, or maybe the rent.

The woman with the walker, she's maybe 27 or 29, but she looks 50 from a distance.  Her coat is blue, U of K blue, and it hangs, too big for her, down to her knees, the sleeves past her hands.  Her pants are too big for her emaciated waist.  Her face is full of those lines of which I spoke earlier - her eyes have a sort of vacant far-off look to them, but then, I've only seen her as I've driven past, and that was just a moment, even though I turned my eyes from the road to watch her as I passed.  She doesn't use the walker in the traditional manner you've seen your grandpa use his; she shoves it ahead of her with her left hand, her right hand held out to her side to balance, and then pulls her feet forward, one at a time, slowly, very unsteadily, as if she's going to topple over at any moment.  I wonder when I watch "why doesn't she use it as it's intended?" and then I know that if she did, it would block "the view".

I don't know how we know they're hookers - the neighborhood, they way they carry themselves, stories that've made their way into the office from the workers in the plant; they all paint the picture and once you lay eyes on these women, you can see it as clearly as if they were wearing signs advertising blow jobs for five dollars and straight sex for twenty-five.  (I have no idea what their pricing structure is like; this is pure conjecture on my part.  Insulting, I know.  But maybe not.  If you saw them, you'd know what I mean.)

My heart breaks for them.  How did they end up there, on the corner of 4th and Central, stumbling along, willing to suck off any random dude with a stiff cock and a wrinkled bill?  What in the fuck must've happened in their lives to land them here, abandoned to the men who find their love on street corners and in dark alleys?  I almost hope it's drugs - if it's drugs, maybe they're still finding some joy at the end of their day.  It's almost too awful to imagine it any other way.

I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about the hookers, I just can't seem to stop thinking about them today.  One of my biggest fears in the world is being raped.  I can't even watch rape scenes in movies - if I've ever come close to knowing what my friends who suffer from severe anxiety feel during a panic attack, it's how I felt when I watched that movie where those kids break into those rich peoples' house and make the mom take off her clothes in front of her husband and her kid and they're about to rape her...I had to leave the room.  My heart felt like it'd blow up.  My whole body was tense, and I was shaking with the fear and awfulness of the idea of that happening in reality, knowing it happens all too often, though obviously not quite like that.  So yeah - what're the odds that those women have come to the point where they are without having suffered sexual trauma and abuse?  That's what I think of every time I see them.  And then my heart breaks all over again.

The Yellow Tail Riesling is really much better after you've had half a bottle.  That first sip is a little sharp, but the 25th or so goes down quite nicely.

It's so late.  It's getting easier to stay up later and harder to get up earlier - it has to be the season change.  Right?  Must force myself to get up early and walk the god.  Dog.  I know I fucked that up, but it made me lol, so I'm leafing it.  That one too.

Maybe it's time for bed.  OH!  And plan on seeing much more of me, because as I said, I totally got a new phone and it's got a badass camera on it so I can take like real pictures and stuff and I can totally get on the internet and like twitter and shit.  It's my first Android; I'm super excited.

Oh, and Dan, are you reading this?  If you are, say "I love blueberry muffins".

I didn't die.

I haven't written in days - Kimmie said, "Why haven't you written anything since Saturday?"

"I don't have any words."   It's true; I don't have anything to talk about.  Nothing good or interesting, anyway.  I've got a guest post I'm supposed to have turned in by today...here's hoping inspiration strikes soon.

Ever notice it's easier to write when life sucks?  When things are emotional or trying or challenging or hard - that's when the words flow like lava.  When life is full of kittens and rainbows, I've only got "I made this awesome thing for dinner" and "I had sex again last night.  It was awesome."  I know you don't want to read that.  Do you?  I'm not complaining - when the alternative is brilliance and misery, I'd rather spend every day for the rest of my life jumping for joy and not able to write a paragraph.

Life is beautiful, and that makes my blog very, very boring.

Sunday Stealing

I saw this posted on Ixy's blog and wanted to be cool like her, so I copied it.  (Link up here!)

1. What has been your longest love relationship?
My ex-husband and I may have technically been together longer than Jimi and I, but we also broke up a few times in the middle and I totally was hookin' up with other guys (before we were married), and I'm pretty sure he was hookin' up with other guys (after we were married), so I'm going to assume this question means "what's been your longest consecutive I-love-you-all-the-time-not-just-when-I'm-lonely relationship?" and that, of course, would be Jimi.  


(Though I was way in love with this guy in high school- even though we only dated for like 4 months, I thought of him every day for the next, oh, 6 or 7 years.  I'm also assuming the question is only asking about the sort of relationships that are mutual, not the creepy-stalker-crazy-ex-girlfriend-can't-move-on sort.)


2. What was the last gift that you received?
My friend Karen and her boyfriend Gary worked at his mom's farmer's market stand yesterday and brought home 3 bushel baskets of homegrown, organic produce.  (tomatoes, eggplant, squash, cucumbers...)  She called last night to say we have one waiting for us and need to come get it.  Happy Random Presents Day to me!

3. What do you spend your extra cash on?
Things I shouldn't talk about on the internet in case they're watching.  Eating out.  Beer.  Buying things for people I love.  Buying more stuffed toys for my dog so he can rip out the stuffing.  Giving money to guys on the street who create vivid stories, not knowing I'd give it to them without the spiel.  Dirt and plants that claim to clean the air inside your house.  Orchids.  The Sims 3 upgrades.  (Not really - I don't spend real money to get my characters new outfits or anything; but I do have the Ambitions and Adventures and I'll probably spring for the Pets when it's released in October.  I'm so embarrassed.) 


Oh, and getting out of debt.  Maybe I should've listed that one first? 

4. If you could live anywhere would you live?
If I could live anywhere, I hope I would live.  Okay, I know what the question is supposed to be asking (even if it is missing a word) - but I don't know how to answer it with a location.  I'd love to live on an island somewhere, or in a Utopia, but really, I'm pretty happy right where I'm at.  As long as I have my Jimi, my family, my friends, my zip code doesn't matter.  (I say that because where I am, in Louisville, KY, is pretty freakin' awesome - we've got a little bit of everything.  Except oceanfront property.)

5. Who's your cell provider?
Cincinnati Bell.  I know, I'd never heard of them before, either.  My cell is provided through work, free of charge to lil' ol' me, so whatever.

6. What's your favorite mall store?
I remember when I thought Spencer's was awesome, and now I think it's dirty.  I'm officially fucking old.  These days, I really like the stores with the sparkles - mostly because I really hate the mall, but it's impossible to be a bitch when you're trying on thousands of dollars worth of bling.

7. What's the longest job that you've had? (No parenting does not count!)
I spent most of my twenties moving from Kentucky, to Michigan, to Nebraska, to Texas, to Kentucky - and moving jobs with each new address.  My current employer took me on in June 2007, and as of Friday, my status is, as my boss put it, "I couldn't fire you."  Four years isn't much of a record for a 31 year old, but it is what it is.

8. If you won the lottery, who'd you call first?
My parents, to let them know they can spend the rest of their lives doing whatever it is that makes them happy.

9. If you won, how would you spend your money after investments?
I'd hire a personal trainer and a nutritionist to get my ass in shape.  Then I'd travel the world to see all the things I've dreamed of seeing.  Then I'd come home to our new custom-built commune where all of our friends and family had moved and we'd start building our Utopian society.

10. When was the last time you went to church (or a religious house)?
We attended a wedding at a Catholic church in mid-June.  I suggest every now and then that maybe we should get up early and go check out a random service at any random church, but sleeping in and morning sex always seem like better investments of our time.

11. What's the biggest lie that you've heard?
I think our government would be the teller, but I couldn't pinpoint any one specific falsehood - just pick anything, chances are good a large part of it will be bullshit.

12. When you go out with your friends, where do you go?
 What's this "go out" of which you speak?  I don't leave my house.

13. When was the last time that you cried?
Last night.  I watched a documentary called The Suicide Tourist, about a man with ALS who travel across the world to kill himself with medical assistance.  My heart broke for his wife as he drank the final cocktail of drugs.

14. What food do you hate?
Hamburgers, mustard, mayo, onions that aren't pureed or powdered, almost all sausage, shrimp, chicken that isn't breast meat...the list goes on and on and on.

15. What do you like best about yourself?
My luck.  It's fucking awesome.  

It's a Major Award!!!

My Notie Kari at Know-It-Not-So-Much is pretty special, and not in a short-bus way.  She's funny and spunky and sincere and kind.  She's a voracious reader, and one heck of book-reviewer, too.  She takes and shares the prettiest pictures.  Her daughter is so adorable, I just want to squeeze her little cheeks.  She paints pictures of her world with her words, and I love catching up on her life in California (it always sounds so much sunnier than Kentucky!), and I can't wait to read all about her newest bundle of joy, due to arrive in a few short months.  I love ya, Notie!

Kari has bestowed upon me a very special honor -

Whoa.  This means I'm the boss of everything.  I get to make three rules, any three rules I want, no matter what.

(Minute Man's Wife, who bestowed the award on Kari, she made a rule that everyone who eats at a restaurant that uses real silverware must add an extra dollar to their final bill, and that dollar goes to the local food bank to help feed someone in need.  If the restaurant uses cloth napkins, $2 is added.  I love this rule so much I'm trying to come up with a way to get a movement started here in Louisville.  I mean, seriously, what a freaking brilliant idea!  Ixy at Illusion made a rule that ice cream calories evaporate overnight and never cause any ill-effects.  I need that to be true.)

Okay, effective immediately, here are my rules:

1.  For the next 30 days, without telling anyone, we're going to completely re-write our system of doing things here in the good ol' U S of A.  All of a sudden, today, everyone who lives in the United States is a citizen.  Okay?  We're starting fresh.  Oh, and we all have equal rights and shit too, like we're taught to believe when we're little kids.  Maybe this way our children won't grow up and have that "what in the FUCK?!" moment we all did when we realized that "land of the free" thing mostly only applied to rich white men.  All those immigrants in town to pick the avocados we all want to buy at the grocery for less than $2 each (which, by the way, we're able to do because those fellas (and women, and children) are willing to work their asses off for near-slave-labor wages, but whatever), they all are now, immediately, a full fledged member of this American Dream.  I find this only appropriate, seeing as how they're only here because they're trying to live that Dream we all keep talking about while we're sitting on our fat asses watching Real Housewives of Bitchville and Jersey Shore.  And gays can vote and get married and have jobs, too.  And we're going to go back to that "freedom of religion" thing and make sure that Separation of Church and State thing is adhered to.  The laws of the land will be based on values such as "not being a dick" and held to such moral tests as "will this help or harm my fellow man?"  We're waving our magic wand and all of a sudden the Middle East is calm and collected and our troops are coming home and we're funneling all those extra billions toward schools and the underprivileged and our smallest debts first, then the next one, then the next one, just like Dave Ramsey says and we're going to fix our credit rating and Save Teh Babbies too!   You with me so far?

2.  (Okay, so number one may have technically counted as at least three rules, but I'm making the rules here, so shut it.)  You know the war on drugs?  We're de-funding that shit.  We're refocusing that money and we're calling it the "War on Cancer" and we're going to eradicate that fucking bastard.

3.  Wait!  Hear me out - it's totally okay to de-fund the war on drugs because we've legalized the good shit and convinced everyone how awful the bad shit is and the people who were addicted have been through  treatment programs that made them realize they have better options and everyone lives in a world full of kittens and rainbows and unicorns.

There.  Those are my rules.  Today.  I'll change my rules and come up with better ones as soon as I hit "Publish Post", but whatev.

And now to pass the power along...

To Kimmie at Nothing To See Here.  I work with her.  She's my of my nearest and dearest BFFs.  She gave me a place to live when I didn't have anywhere but Momma & Daddy's to go.  And she's just recently started blogging and needs some new friends.  And she needs to make some rules.

To Kiley at We Were Going to be Queens.  Go back and read forward - it's like watching her become who she is.  I don't know her, but I'm a total blog-stalking fan.

To Eliza R. Snitch at, well, Eliza R. Snitch.  She's one of my favorite used-to-be Mormons.

To Chubby McGee, because I love her and it's totally her turn to make some rules up in here.  The universe owes her.  

To Patty at Another Cookie, Please!.  She's smart and sassy and I think I could live in a world where she's makin' the rules.

To Carlia at The Stork Drop Zone.  She'll use her power for good and make the world better for us all, I can feel it!

To Sushigirl at Just us and the cat, because in a world full of things she can't control, here's something that she can.  :)

Happy Thursday, people!  (Is it Friday yet?)

Do. Over.

I'm doing this all wrong.

Concerned my buddy's facebook link last night outed my blog at work.  (If I work with you, please don't read my blog.  This is supposed to be my safe place and I'll probably say things I don't want you to read.  Don't worry, though, I promise I'll never use your names or work's name or customers' names.  It's all good.  Let's still be friends, just not here.)

Want to bitch about things - like 6 a.m. text messages and bad life choices - but can't because I don't really want to hurt anyone's feelings and no one likes to be bitched about in a blog entry.

Anonymous is the way to go, I'm seeing that now.  Then I can be catty AND still have friends and a job.

Wait...

I'm doing something all wrong.  Just not exactly sure which part.

I changed my comment system.

BlogHer told me to.  Well, not the actual BlogHer, but some chick who they think is awesomer than me who writes for them (and she obviously is awesomer than me, because she understands how to do this blog thing whereas I am simply practicing typographical diarrhea over here).

Anyhow.  Comment System - I changed mine to Disqus.  I'm not really sure what all that means just yet, but I know that now I can reply to your individual comments in a way that doesn't make me feel awkward and weird and uncomfortable the way I feel when I go back after 5 of you have said something and I'm all "Yeah, I like that too; no, that wasn't so bad; sure, I'll send you the recipe" all in one little comment box -  That's what leads to me not replying to comments at all and then feeling like an asshole for ignoring comments and then I get all froze up and worry that no one will ever like me because I'M NOT DOING IT RIGHT!!!

What were we talking about?

Shit From My House - Epilogue

I knew I would suck at this giveaway thing.

All the things and all the stuff?  All the shit from my house?  It's finally on its way to your house - well, it will be in the morning when I drop it all off at the post office.

Please forgive me for taking forever to get things packaged and boxed and addressed and posted.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm the Queen of Procrastination?  I am.  I should've warned you beforehand.

On the other hand, almost every free thing I've ever signed up for came with a "please allow 4 to 6 weeks for delivery" disclaimer, so really, at three weeks, I'm not doing SO bad.  Right?  Right?!

Anyhow, enjoy your things and stuff.  And if you don't, please don't send it back.



(There are three of you whose addresses I've not received, and if you email those to nattums at g mail dot com, I'll send your shit along, too.  :)  )

Winning!

Did you enter my giveaway?  You did?!  YAY!

You Won!!!

So, to claim your prize, you need to email me your address.  Nattums at gmail dot com.  

There's a surprise, too.  I'm not going to tell you what you won.  You probably know already anyhow.  But you're probably going to get an extra prize too.  

Aren't giveaways fun?!  

Oh, and if you didn't enter, but you email me your address anyhow, I'll probably mail you something.  (Not to make you giveaway winners feel slighted or anything, but there's a lot of stuff left over.  I really don't want to put it in my basement again.  You get it, right?)

Make it happen, people.  Jimi's getting tired of the shit taking over the living room, and Finn is trying to make all of it his toys.  (All of it except #13.  He hates #13.)  

Enter my Giveaway - please?

C'mon, guys.  Please don't make me put this stuff back in my basement.  You need some new-to-you things, right?  And some more stuff?

Sunday Somethings

I'm not Catholic, but I went to Mass this morning.  I'm 99% certain today is the first time I've gone to church on Easter Sunday - any church.  Counting that wedding I went to in 2001 and the funeral we went to a few weeks ago, this Mass was the third I've attended in my life.  I expected waving palm fronds and lots of Hosanna singing - like in Jesus Christ Superstar.  It doesn't really go down like that, turns out.  (I've got a sudden urge to pop in that DVD.  Love that movie!)

*************************

Jimi and I had a bit of a cometoJesus this morning as we drove to his brother's house before church.  He's worried about me, folks.  He's concerned that I read too much sad - blogs about infertility, about multiple losses, about children who've died, about cancer patients.  He's worried that I'm not happy, or that my grieving is overwhelming me.  "I'm coming out on the other side of it, baby," I assured him.  "I had a lot to work through, but I'm coming through it."  I guess I don't talk to him much about where I'm at in this process.  I don't talk to him much about where he is, either.  We've sorta been dealing with things on our own, in our own heads. I come here and spill my guts; to say the same words to him out loud would feel like repeating myself.  (Have I mentioned he doesn't read my blog?  No wonder he doesn't know where I'm at.)

He said the thing I've been thinking of but afraid to say - the due date approaches.  May 4th, May 5th - something like that.  "I've thought of it," I told him. "But I don't feel any real significance or connection with the date, honestly.  If we'd heard a heartbeat, if a doctor had given us a date to mark on our calendars, then it would be harder.  Now, it's more like 'Huh.  If things had worked out differently, how different would my world be right now!'"  But of course I've thought about it.

It's been a roller coaster of emotions and hormones for the last several months.  I don't feel the urgency I felt.  I don't feel the confusion or so lost.  I'm not empty; I felt empty there for a while, but I don't feel that anymore.  I don't feel betrayed by fate, or cheated, or punished.  I don't feel like a failure as a woman.  I don't feel like I've failed Jimi.  I know grieving is a process, and I'm glad that the veil is lifting.  I never would've thought I could grieve so hard for someone I never met.

**************************

Brew day ended with an interesting twist yesterday - the cooling system the boys use, a large coil of copper pipe that's immersed into the brew keg full of raw beer and flushed with cold water to cool the boiling liquid, it sprang a leak.  The leak wasn't discovered until they had introduced something like 5 gallons of unfiltered water to their brew.  shitfucksonofabitch.  The BBC brewmaster was on hand, and he suggested an attempted save involving removing three gallons of the tainted brew, bringing the rest to a hard boil for an hour or so to kill off any bacteria, then adding an extra pound or so of honey to keep up flavor and gravity.  I'll let you know in 8 weeks or so if it worked.  (I hope it worked; a batch of beer isn't inexpensive to make.  Beyond the cost, though, they put so much of themselves into this stuff - it's tear-jerking to think of their efforts and hours of work all being for naught.)

Maria generously volunteered to pick up for dinner a selection of delicious yums from her brother's Argentinian restaurant.  I've never been to Palermo Viejo, mostly because I'm a picky eater and new things scare me, but dude.  If you're ever in Louisville, and you're in the mood for some out-of-this-world food, this would be a good place to start - Empanadas in four varieties, all of which were unbelievably tasty, a 10 oz. filet served with a vinegar based spicy sauce that her father makes, some breaded chicken/ham/cheese/tomato dish that almost made me cry, the mashed potatoes, the bread - Oh, it was all so freaking awesome.  I will be visiting the restaurant to sample his other wares, I assure you.  

*************************

Jimi said he's going to send me for a massage this week.  And that was before he discovered the golf-ball-sized knot of tensed up muscle in my shoulder that I woke up with this morning.  Very much looking forward to that.  Also on the list of things to look forward to this week:  folding, stuffing, and stamping my own invoices; doing my own filing; screening my own phone calls.  That's right, friends, I'm once again on the hunt for a new administrative assistant.  If it wouldn't mean an extra 20 hours of work for me each week, I'd say fuck it and petition my boss for a small raise and do the shit myself.  But I don't want to work 55 hours a week.  And I refuse to believe finding someone to fill that job long-term is impossible.

**************************

Is Easter candy on sale today, or do I have to wait until tomorrow?  And why is everything open today?  Even the Book & Music Exchange was open.  I remember way back in 1998, Kat and I tried to find some shit to get into on Easter Sunday and it was like this town was on lockdown.  Even Wal-Mart and Meijer were closed.  I told Jimi, "It's a sign of the times, yo.  We're all a bunch of Godless heathens nowadays."

*************************

I'm leaving the giveaway up for another week.  I really want to send you all of this shit from my house, so you really should go enter.  :)  

And I'm obviously the worst blogger ever.  I've been awarded the Versatile Blogger award four times (4?!) in the last few weeks, and I've not made the time yet to accept or acknowledge any of them.  Ixy (at Illusion), Carlia (at The Stork Drop Zone), LJB (at CrankyMonkeys In London), and Crystal (at Never In One Place) - Ladies, thank you, and I have no excuse other than it feels like life has been really hectic and crazy and I'm way far behind on everything.  (Over 1000 things to read in my Google Reader right now.  1000!!!  Like that'll ever happen.)  Anyhow, I'm sorry for being lame-o.  I'll fix it, promise.   

I think that's all I've got.  Happy Easter, Friends.

Want to win some Shit From My House?

I've posted the one hundred things I'm giving away in honor of the One Hundred (and Three?!) Awesome people who are following my blog.  I've put together 55 "prize packages", some big, some small - and I'm really hoping to mail them out to 55 different people, though I'm not above dividing every one of those 100+ things among three entrants.  

Tell your friends.

You people are so freakin' awesome.

All 100 of you!

That's right, folks, I've hit 100 followers/people who don't think I'm boring/awesome people/readers!

Giveaway details are coming.  I thought I had at least a week before I'd have to get my shit together (literally), but I only had a day and of course, I'm not prepared.  Color me surprised.

Jimi doesn't get the giveaway thing.  "You're going to send strangers 100 things that you find around the house?"  Yes.  "Do you know how much that's going to cost in postage?"  What's a few hundred bucks between friends? "Why would anyone want anything you find around the house?"  I have no idea, other than a deep conviction that if someone else was hosting this giveaway, I'd want to win something.  "You should call it Natalie's Absurd Found Household Item Giveaway."  It already has a name, Jimi.  It's called Shit From My House.  "Must you always cuss?"  Yes.

Stay tuned.  Good shit is coming.  And some really awful shit too.

I have some things to tell you.

My computer is back!  Okay, it was barely gone.  I dropped it off after work today with Britney Robinson of Robinson Technology & Financial Management Services - within 30 minutes she called to say she'd restored all of my photos YAY!!!  In less than 3 hours, she called to say she'd cleared 5 viruses and restored all documents (including tax returns) and our machine was ready to be picked up.  It's running like new and the cost was much less than I would've expected - a third of what I paid to repair my ex-husband's machine when he made the same mistake years ago.

Do I have to say how good it feels to know my pictures are safe?  Or that I'm going to back those bitches up post haste?

Other things I want to talk to you about:

~  I've got this ridiculously bad habit of accidentally buying Christian Fiction books.  I don't pay much attention when I'm buying books, mostly because I don't spend a lot of money when I buy books and if you're only spending a quarter or fifty cents, how bad could it really be, you know?  Speaking sign language gorilla bad.  My five year old died and now I'm going to clone him except OH WAIT that opens the door for late-term abortions bad.  No, really.  Those are the story-lines for two of the books I picked up at that neighborhood yard sale last Spring - a REALLY Catholic neighborhood, turns out.  The Encyclopedia of the Saints I picked up should've tipped me off maybe.  Or the "Women of Faith in Fiction" badge on the cover that I barely glanced at before my purchase was complete.

I never know these books are Christian fiction until I'm like 10 pages in, and by then, I'm officially "Reading" the book.  I've got this rule, you see - once I start reading a book, I have to finish it.  That piece of shit called "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" or something like that?  Stephen King?  It's like 150 pages and it took me 10 months to finish it, but I read every page of that pile of poop.  So I start reading these books, and I have to finish them, even though it involves lots of eye rolling and soapbox preaching and loud exclaiming.  

~  I love Jimi so much.  I say it all the time, I know, but my God, I love that man like I love breathing air.  You know how when you're in a long term relationship that feeling of awe, that overwhelming ILOVEYOU feeling, it ebbs and flows, right?  It does with us too, sure, but we flow a lot more than we ebb.  And our highs are so much higher than our lows are low.  And he continues to amaze me every day with his ability and willingness to bend, to shift, to move with me, even when I'm unpredictable and nonsensical and crazy.  He's a lesson in patience, goodness, kindness, generosity.  Every moment I spend with him makes me a better person - he makes me want to do more, to be more.

~  I need to go see if I can play my Sims 3 game again - the restore fucked it all up and I'm hoping the magic fix fixed that too.  Fingers crossed!

~  There are two blogging award thingies hanging out there with my name on them that I've yet to acknowledge. I haven't not noticed - I've been busy, and I'm sorry.  Give me a few more days, ladies, please?

~  I'm really going to have a giveaway and give away shit from my house.  100 things.  No shit.  100.  Tell your friends.  No more details until I have 100 followers.  Yes, I'm trying to lure more people to my blog with the promise of mailing them things I don't want anymore.  You know you're going to enter.

I think that's a good place for an ending, eh?  Happy (almost) Tuesday!