Sunday, September 4, 2011

Long time, no see.

Not apologizing.  Life is hard.  Sometimes I forget to document it.

Updates out of the way:  Butterfly garden was a total success and I can't wait to make it bigger next year!  Hurrican Irene...came and went with a minimum of drama.  Earthquake, first in my life! Rescued a new dog.  Had 3 whole weeks off from grad school and it was wonderful.  I didn't do a damn thing.

New semester is starting and I am getting back in the swing of homework.  I am also working on some artsy-fartsy-crafty projects and they are calming me, and I'm actually getting excited to keep going with them.  Just what I needed. 

Maybe I'll elaborate on some of these topics.  That sounds like something a good writing instructor would say to do...

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Of Dead Dogs and Butterflies

It was with a heavy and broken heart that I had to put Flannery to sleep.  He's been my constant companion for the past 9 years, and the days are not the same without him, his happy face, and obsessive snuggling. 
Miss ya, little bud.

Beginning the day after I came home from the vet with an empty collar, the butterfly garden is suddenly alive.  I'm not sure what to make of it.  I know some people would be all, "its his spirit romping in the garden."  I just don't know about that.  It is a hell of a coincidence, though, that just when I needed some distraction these things start showing up in full force.

First, the Silver Spotted Skipper who arrived literally 12 hours after we got home that night.

A couple days later, a lady Monarch.

And just today, both ladies, a Tiger Swallowtail and a Spicebush Swallowtail.

Flannery, if you've got anything to do with this...thanks, Bud.

Thursday, July 7, 2011


Okay, that last one happened during an expecially drama-filled week.  We won't be having any more of that.

Bringing it back to this side of "mentally competent"...

I made cupcakes and they sort of sucked.  But trying a new recipe is a positive thing, right?

Actually, speaking of new recipes, I also made all of these, and they were all 3 BANGIN' (as the kids say): (followed the directions to the letter...a rarity for me!) (Mostly followed the directions on this one, too!) (did not include the anchovie paste...just...could...not.)

I cleaned the hell out of the inside of my car. I can't stand clutter in there, I feel like I'm driving a dumpster.  And there was some sort of funk/stank occurring.  I still don't know where it came from.  It still lingers a bit.

I went...TO A RODEO.  Yeehaw, y'all!

I did some homework.

I rearranged all the furniture in my tiny-ass living room so I can walk in the front door without feeling like I'm in an episode of "Wipeout."

I survived the Great Office Move of 2011.

I bought a new refrigerator.  Ask me later what it's like to wake up on a holiday and go, "Oh, shit...I think the freezer's dead..."

I started seeing butterflies in the garden!  Yay!  They're only little Cabbage Whites, but its something, right?  Also, I spotted a large dark one in the backyard.  I said, "No dummy, you're in the wrong yard!  All the food is up front!  Just go over the house, and look down...ya can't miss it."  He didn't listen to me.  Or maybe he was a she, and she is anorexic.  I wonder if animals can have body image issues.

I saw fireworks.  I also saw some crispy old "Jersey Girls."  I would like to go around to salons and educate stylists on the importance of talking their clients out of perms.

I Skyped for the very first time.  In order to avoid having to drive into the city to meet with my academic advisor.  I also revamped my resume for the first time in a million years.  Its 3 pages, and apparently, that is perfectly acceptable.  I really hate the idea of selling myself for field placement.  I won't even get paid for it.  Its like being a prostitute for free.  Which basically means I'm a loose woman, because in the words of Salt 'N Pepa, "The difference between a hooker and a ho ain't nothing but a fee."

Something else I learned from the 90s..."Never trust a big butt and a smile."  Bel Biv DeVoe...I got you.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Saturday, June 11, 2011

I suck.

I so desperately wanted to make a butterfly garden this year.  I researched the hell out of the things.  Came up with a list of plants that will attract regional butterflies.  Made my husband pay someone to grind out the friggin "tree of hell" stump and fill the whole mess with dirt.  Started things from seed.  Bought already grown plants.  Planted.  Weeded.  Watered.  Waited.

What do I got?

Nothing.  Shit won't grow. Shit keeps getting eaten.  Its depressing.  Little seedlings just sitting there.  And I'm like, "you're supposed to be GROWING.  That means to increase in size.  Not just sitting there looking like midgets."

I"ve got 4 square feet of plants that think they're little people.  AND WHERE ARE THE DAMN BUTTERFLIES?  I ain't seen one!!!!

All these dreams...I wanted my garden to be the white molester van of the butterfly kingdom.  Luring them all to my yard.

No go.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Sweet fancy pancakes...

Bwahaha, so much for making myself write a lil somethin' every week! I has failed at blog.  Oh well. No one reads it anyway.  Suck it!

I have only 2 more weeks of client work.  I don't want to say any more than that because hell might break loose again.  Hell has broken enough already. Dead teacher.  Inspection (code for "county funds controllers all up in our bidness.)  Another dead teacher.  Failed apocalypse.  Parent punching kid. New last-minute groups. Parent slapping kid.  Dead parent.  Fight.  Beer.  Cheese.  Laughs.

Got home tonight to find the fridge full of pizza, beer beans? What the hell goes on when I'm not here?  CANNED green beans?  Oh, the humanity...

The squirrels and birds are enjoying my butterfly garden.  I hate wildlife. Shit can't even make flowers, they are eating everything.

Voluntary work on a Saturday (holiday weekend, no less.)  Bring it.

This is the most disjointed thing I've ever written.  I should stop now.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Feeling a little sorry for myself.

I am tired.  Bone-numbingly tired.  Things that are not funny are starting to crack me up.  Shopping at Wegmans, looking at crackers.  "Stoned Wheat Crackers!"  Hilarious!  I have the humor of a 15 year old boy! Woohoo!

Wondering why allergies have to be a part of life?  And why I had to draw the short straw on this one?  The human body is not meant to be so reactive to everything.  The past 2 weeks I've been so ungodly itchy.  My skin, my nose, my throat, my eyes...oh dear lord, the itchy, swollen, red eyes...waking up at all hours of the night.  Not having had a solid night's sleep in weeks.  Taking so many antihistamines that I am a walking warning about sedative abuse. 

FYI:  Trying to walk through the house in the dark after Benadryl can and will lead to you walking full speed into a door frame.  You'll think you broke your nose, but no such luck.  You'll just have a little round bruise for a week that doesn't look like a bruise, it looks like dirt.  So now you will be walking around, pale and pasty, looking like you're high, with bright red swollen eyes, sniffing and sneezing, and to top it off, you look dirty.

I've never been so uncomfortable in my life.  I feel like I'm not fit to be looked upon, and I have to keep checking myself to make sure I'm making sense.  I'm just so damn tired. I hate being such a complaint-bringer but I really do not have anything positive to say to anyone, about anything.  I just want to crawl into a hole and die. 

But being as how I'm so allergic to stupid grass, I'm not even looking forward to that.

Le sigh.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I've been neglecting thee, little blog baby.

I'm so terribly sorry.  I deeply apologize to the zero people who read this.

I really, really think that being in 6th grade is a mental disorder.  It should be in the DSM.  I can't even begin to think of the number of times this year the 6th graders alone have made me question my sanity.  I mean, people don't really act that way.  I must be hallucinating.  That's it. 

The idea of a potential hallucination is more comforting than the actual witnessing of a child doing a damn backflip in the middle of my social skills group.  Kids don't really do that, right?  They don't just stand up when someone is talking, flop on the floor, then when that someone instructs them to get up, they don't flip themselves in the air, right?  Right?

They also don't keep their baby teeth in a little plastic treasure chest in their locker for the better part of a year...then get disgruntled when they are instructed to THROW IT OUT, leading them to argue that the tiny treasure chest can be used to store gum while they are eating, right?  I should never have to utter the words, "You are NOT going to store your ABC gum in a tooth box."

I shouldn't have to ask kids to keep the farting to a minimum.  Nor should I have to explain that the "No Interrupting" rule does not apply to me when a kid is talking out of turn, and I have to ask him to be quiet so I can get through the rest of my lesson.  Or ask them to keep their voices down so people walking down the hall past my room don't hear the mosquito-sized kid exclaiming, "SNITCHES GET STITCHES!"  And I certainly shouldn't have to then cut off a kid who is trying to tell me about the time he got a result of the time he "busted a nut" at Boy Scout camp.

But I do.  I do have to do all these things.  They're getting stranger every day.

I'm a little concerned.

Friday, April 22, 2011

There is something wrong with the way my mind works.

Why? you ask.   What's that?  You didn't ask?  Don't care.  I'mma tell you anyway.

I was sitting in class the other night, while some classmates were presenting a presentation.  My mind was wandering.  That makes me sound like a bad student, but I'm not.  I had this sudden flash of, "What would happen to me if I had some kind of accident and my left hand got chopped off?" (I'm extremely left-handed.  As in, my right hand holds the scissors, but that's as productive as it gets.  Some days I wonder if it's even qualified to shift my car out of "park."  Maybe I should move to England.  No, then it's primary resposibility would be flipping the bird at offending drivers. It might screw that up.  Then I would look really dumb.) Anyway.  I thought it might be a good idea to learn to write with my right hand, just in case I lose the left.  It wasn't working.  My right hand has the motor skills of a 3 year old.  No exaggeration.  If I wasn't sitting in the middle of class, I might have investigated the handwriting potential of my feet.  I might do that later. 

So I told my bestie about this thought that I had, and sent a picture of my efforts at being a right-handed woman.  Her response?  "You'be been spending too much time with 6th graders."

It has come to this.  She's completely right.  That is something I would have texted her after a group.  "This one kid was writing with his opposite hand because his good hand might get lopped off someday!"

I'm cutting myself some slack.  I had some medical dog drama.  I've told the story too many times already and I don't want to re-live the event again.  Just let it be said that at some point in his 11 or so years on this earth, the little guy ate a sewing needle, with a length of thread attached.  The doctor performed a miracle and he is home and very upset that I need to give him meds 5 times a day.  It was an intensely emotional week, full of fear, despair that I would lose my guy, astonishment, relief, happiness when we were reunited, aggravation when he decided to be allergic to a medication, near hallucinations due to sleep deprivation, and worry.  He is on the road to recovery and I watch him like a hawk, because if he ate a damn needle, who knows what other freak things he's been snacking on.

I'm owning that fact that I sometimes think like a 12 year old.  I deserve it.  It sucks to be an adult all the time.  This week is proof.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

"Plaid is a really boring color."


"You know...the color plaid?  Its a boring color.  I like red."

Oh, these 12 year old boy groups.  I can only hope that they are learning as much from me as I am from them.  Definately need to move to Canada before these little people are old enough to run this country.

What else have I learned?  Grad school is no fun.  Professors who feel like it is their life mission to assign tremendous amounts of "busy work" for no reason are no fun.  I wonder how you get to the point in your career when you plan to kill your students for your own personal amusement.  I dreamed about this class last night.  I dreamed that he unfairly accused me of producing mediocre work, and I flipped shit on him.  I also dreamed that he accused me of being an alcoholic.  What a if I had time to drink!  I woke up stressed. 

And here I am, complaining, instead of writing a paper.  Think that might be contributing to the stress?  I have reached the point where I don't even look forward to a day off from work, because I know it will be filled with school work. Time off?  What is that???

If you know, please fill me in!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Taste of Summer

Yesterday, I had one of those delicious moments where it semed like summer really was just around the corner.  Finally.  Its been a crazy long winter here on the East Coast.  It's been winter since 2005.  Nary a ray of sunshine or day over 40 degrees in years.

But yesterday...ah, yesterday...

Finished a full day of being stuck inside, in a room without windows, with the knowledge that it was 8-stinkin-5 degrees out!  85!  Holy crap!  FYI.  Middle schoolers start to smell at around 75 degrees. 

Walked outside, no jacket.  Kid client waiting outside the school for his ride, waves at me, looks so happy to be free.  I miss how that feels.  I get reminded every summer when I'm done for the school year, but its just a taste of how that felt at 12 years old. 

Hop in my car, its so hot, but I don't even care! Turn the ignition and Jack Johnson starts blaring out of my speakers.  Windows down, and I'm rolling to get an iced coffee before night class.

In 3 months, I'll be bitching about all of this.  The hotness of the car.  The fact that the second it turns warm, the local radio stations become unable to play anything BUT Jack Johnson and Bob Marley.  Bugs flying in my open windows.  Ice in the coffee melts before I get where I'm going. 

But for now, I'll take it.

Or, rather...I took it.  Today, a mere 24 hours later, it is cold as balls and rainy.  And I've been bitching about that all day.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Things I did when I could have been ______________________.

Word Bank:
Watching TV
Cleaning something else
Doing laundry

These used to be perfectly nice candles from Bath and Body Works.  But I just can't leave things alone, so I made them vaguely disturbing.
I did not come up with this idea on my own, it was stolen, like all good research is stolen.  I will cite my references, like all good research, so I can say "I made this but not on my own.  But you can't sue me because I made a citation."

Her's look less deadly.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

What a long, strange week its been...

So this week saw me through a massive cold/bronchitis/respiratory hell, class presentation, clients with ants in their backpacks, clients who sneeze all over themselves, clients who were as sick as I was and were in no mood to deal with me, a neighbor who randomly installed a storm door while I was at work, seeds and bulbs planted, and dogs who just wanted to play outside.  All.  The.  Time.  Its been exhausting.

I am now hiding in my bedroom as my husband and his father install siding on the side of my house, and try not to murder each other. 

Tomorrow's looking like a good day to clean and maybe work on a craft project or two.

When did I become so boring?

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


Powered by a nasty cold.  Possibly incapable of making wise choices. 

Wondering if it is possible to actually hack one's lung out.  This might happen.

Also, it is raining like a motherfather out there.