Cleaning house

Or to be more precise, cleaning office. Spent time today throwing away a bunch of paper that I'm going to assume I will have no use for. Gathered the first round of personal belongings to take home. Deleted a whole mess of emails. Still cleaning off the desk, getting rid of stacks of stuff.

I have so many upcoming events already scheduled for this year: a few dozen yes dozen classes, several outreach events including a 2-day one in the fall, a conference to teach at in the summer, etc etc. These are things I've already committed to and preparations are in place and funding has been allotted. When I leave there will be 2 librarians to take these things over. I don't know how they're going to do it since, you know, they have their regular jobs to do too. Most likely a bunch of this stuff will have to be cancelled. Hope it don't make the library look too bad!!!

The nice lady from the county seems to be going down our list of witnesses and calling them to ask how S and I are as a married couple, as parents, etc. She keeps asking our friends if we use drugs or drink. I think that is so funny, but she's probably reading from a script or something. I already told her that the Sheriff's Dept. calls me for random drug testing on a regular basis--as they do with all employees--and she could check with them that I'm clean. And S has never done one single drug in his life, not even the normal experimentation with marijuana that most kids in this country partake in. Anyway, I'm glad she is speaking to our friends who are all good, solid, educated, home-owning citizens. I'm sure, in extreme contrast, all the ho's witnesses are uneducated, inarticulate trash just like she and Dickhead.

When psychotic Directors attack

So I got chewed out big time yesterday morning at work by the director. What a way to start a Monday! Boy, she was ticked off at me. She yelled at me for about 20 minutes. I just sat there calmly, truly surprised at how upset she got. I think I made her madder by not getting as upset as she was! She even threatened me with my job and insulted me, saying, "What do you do?" I offered to send her my job duties with work tasks broken down by percentage, and I did so later in an email since she's apparently so clueless. She then gave me some tasks to do, and I did them in a reasonably timely manner--before lunch. But not before I sent off my resume to another job at another library that I'd been eyeing for a few weeks. Glad to have that decided now!

Although I did not enjoy being yelled at, I did take some satisfaction in how upset and outraged she was. She was practically spewing spittle! They ticked me off back in September; now she knows how it feels!!!

Yeah, I've had it. My days at Job #1 are numbered and I'm the one that's going to pull the plug. Or, if they do then that's fine too. I thought I could outlast the Director (age 65-ish) and a-hole Deb. H. (age 51-ish) but I'm no longer interested in trying to do so. I ran into the Director today in the ladies room and she smiled and said hi like nothing had happened. Psycho!!! I took my time drying my hands and walked slowly out to show that I was not intimidated by her. I'm considering writing a scathing letter of complaint on her to the Library Board, indicting her for being out-of-touch (most of my fellow employees also believe this to be the case) and quoting her insulting comments to me, a most talented, experienced and valuable librarian. When I leave, I believe I will do so.

I even looked at some cop jobs. If all else fails, I could work at the jail 4 days a week for $28/hour, but without benefits. Rice U. is hiring cops. That might be a nice environment! So is HISD. However, I need a job where the hours are easy b/c of the baby and I do want and need to keep Job #2. If I get full-time work as a po-lice, I'd still like to utilize my Master's degree somehow.

I got an interesting reply letter this weekend from the owner of the restaurant where we had our Mardi Gras party (see previous post). He apologized profusely for my unhappiness and said he was responsible for sending up the extra food and that he should've checked with us. He enclosed a $25 gift certificate to the restaurant and said that he will comp all of our food if we have another gathering there again. I don't know what to think; I have mixed feelings.

Dance, baby, dance!; Drop off drama; Reno review

So the wedding on Sat. night was a ton of fun. I had told S that baby and I would only stay for about an hour; we ended up being there from 6-9pm! The dance floor was HUGE, and since 1/2 of the wedding couple was Mexican, of course there were a million little kids running around like lunatics, and my kid was one of them!!! We were having too much fun, and enjoyed good barbecue besides. Later, my friend from work (the one that went to wrestling with us with her grandson) showed up and she and I hit the dance floor with all the little kids. The baby was wearing her pink princess outfit and we just had a hoot, making up silly dance moves and laughing and singing.

Sunday S took her to work with him after we ate at La Mad. I got a lot of stuff down around the house and got the DVD recorder ready to tape the Oscars... which I still haven't watched yet although I know who won, of course. No big surprises.

I picked up M. and we headed up north to meet S and the baby before dropping her off. I felt it necessary to speak to her about how bad she'd been all weekend, and explained that she needed to try her best to be good and to do what I, S, and my mom tell her to do. She agreed, and we had a good short rest of our time together. Then the crazy/funny thing happened when we got to the Starbucks to drop her off. We pulled up and instead of seeing Dickhead there (M. and I are always prepared for Dickhead and both of us are always armed), there was this short, young Asian woman standing by the ho's car. None of us had ever seen her before, including S. S was driving, M., in front, and me in the back with baby. We stopped behind the ho's car as always, and I was getting the baby's seatbelt unbuckled and getting ready to kiss her goodbye when the Asian chick stepped closer. I didn't like how close she was to the car, but at least she wasn't Dickhead, so no big deal, I guess. Then, all of a sudden, she reached for the car handle to open the door so she could get the baby. I EXPLODED. I snapped furiously something like, "I'LL OPEN IT!!!" at her through the window (I'm not 100% sure of what I said b/c all I could see was red). She stepped back, raised her hands and, eyes wide said, "Ok, ok!" Oh, I was PI$$ED. I got out of the car and went around to get the baby out. I may have said to her something like this was my car and she didn't need to be touching it, but I'm not sure. I reached in to the baby and asked her if she knew this woman, and the baby said, "That's Mindy." I got the baby out and handed her over, and we left.

In the car, I was trying to cool down but my hands were shaking I was so angry. M. said, "Ok, you don't want to look like the crazy one here." But I said, "You do NOT touch my fucking car! [Here I am, cussing during Lent again.] Don't even get NEAR it! What kind of fucking idiot was she?!?! Don't touch my car, my bicycle, my scooter, OR my skateboard!!!" S said that maybe she wasn't aware of the volatile situation she was getting herself into, but I'm sorry, I don't buy that. The ho is going around filing false police reports on us, perjuring herself in court, and flinging false accusations left and right at us and I'm supposed to believe she hasn't tried to convince everyone she knows of her vicious lies and paint the worse possible picture of us? I was not born yesterday!!! Either S or M., I'm not sure, said I scared the crap out of her, and that she probably wondered if I was going to shoot her. Like I said, in this volatile situation that the ho and Dickhead have created, I am always prepared to do what I have to do to protect our safety. The ho and Dickhead are the ones that brought the beef to the party; they have no right to be surprised when I break out the buns and the condiments!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, then we went to eat Chinese/Sushi buffet and saw Reno 911: The Movie. It was great! We laughed our butts off and S and I shared a margarita. I don't even want to think of what my blood pressure must have been last night due to all the crap.

Poor behavior

I've always subscribed to Woodrow Call's philosophy on the subject: "I hate poor behavior in a man", he said. "I won't tolerate it."

The baby has been bad all weekend and it's only Saturday afternoon. We started off fine yesterday, and the nice county lady met us all at the house and observed us, interviewed S alone, and then interviewed the baby alone. After she left and S had to go back to work, I took the baby down the street to Tito J's library. While in the car, I asked her what did she and Ms. E talked about. The baby said, and I quote verbatim: "Daddy good, Dita good, my mommy bad, and my Curtis bad." I was very surprised. I wondered later to S if indeed he believes that's really what the baby said. He said he's sure she did say that.

I must interject here for anyone who's even wondering, do I or S coach the baby to say these things? Absolutely not, and here's my un-impeachable explanation for not doing so. While growing up myself, my father was absentee and exemplified poor behavior and uninterested parenting. However, in spite of this I don't recall my mother ever saying negative word one about him. She, and other wise parents, know that that is not their place to do so, and that children almost always figure out what's going on eventually, which, of course, I did. So I refuse to do this as well to the baby b/c my other fear is that when you speak negatively of a child's biological parent, no matter how worthless and trashy they are, you risk harming the child's self-esteem. Like I said, the baby will know one day what an unfit BM (biological mother/bowel movement, either one) she had the misfortune to be associated with. This I know in my heart of hearts. The baby is the one who, on her own, called the BM "my other mom." The baby is the one who calls the BM "my mean mom." Now, I will say that I don't discourage this, and maybe that's bad of me to do, but as far as I'm concerned, better the baby figure it out sooner than later. Because she will absolutely figure it out, just like I did, just like all children eventually do.

Anyway, so we went to the library and had a good time as always. I read The Secret Garden to her twice, and we visited with Tito J. Then we went home and she helped me make enchiladas for dinner--she sprinkled the cheese and spooned in the black olives. But then she started to be mischievous. She took a rock that I had and didn't put it back when/where I told her to after I'd decided she was done playing with it. She used her scissors to cut up a kleenex, and put the shredded pieces IN MY PURSE (I didn't find this out until later). She didn't eat her food and kept eating chips and queso and I had to take the chips away from her. She cried like a crybaby when she burped and subsequently I made a game of trying to keep her face away from mine ("Stinky burpy!!!") and I drew a picture of her burping. Uh, she had been laughing not milliseconds before that! Schizo! She went to pee and didn't wipe and I made her pull her pants down and wipe before being allowed to wash her hands and leave the bathroom. Then S got home and he ticked me off by coddling her and cuddling her. Still, he does follow my orders when I tell him to tell her to do something. I made her some cereal to eat instead of the enchiladas and when she was finished, I told her that she knows where the cereal bowl goes (sink). She took the bowl to the kitchen, then she and S went upstairs to watch Batman. Before they did I told S he needed to tell her to apologize to me for being bad and putting trash in my purse, and she got quiet and shy and did. But even though I was obviously upset with her, she kept asking me to come with them and telling S she wanted me to come with them, but he knew by that time I needed my time alone! She insisted on S carrying her up the stairs (I hate it when she wants to be carried all the time like some kind of invalid child). I went to the kitchen and saw her cereal bowl ON THE COUNTER. Ooooh! I yelled up the stairs for her to get downstairs immediately. Instead S came down and was going to put her cereal bowl away in the sink for her, but I said no way, tell her to get her butt down there. He said, "I don't want to have to carry her back upstairs!" Oooooh again! I said, "THEN DON'T!!!" She came down and I made her put her bowl away. Good lord!

This a.m. I asked S why he thought she might be acting out all of a sudden when usually she is so good. He said that she must have had a traumatic day, talking to the county lady and all. Oh please, I said, that wasn't traumatic at all, and she was in daycare all day long before that! I hypothesized that maybe she is starting to wonder if soon she indeed is coming to live with us from now on, and wants to test us and push us and see how much more "fun" it might be to live with us. I said, "If that's what she thinks, she is sorely mistaken!"

So today at lunch I called my mom to see what they wanted me to bring them for lunch. My mom said the baby had made her count to 3 three different times. Oh, that makes me so mad, especially after S and I told the baby this a.m. she had to be good! So I got her a Happy Meal, and one for my mom, which means 2 toys and when I got over there I confiscated both toys right in front of her as punishment. We had a good lunch, and had some fun, but she did not get her toys. I also told S on her and he spoke to her on the phone about being good.

S said last night that he was planning on taking her to work with him on Sunday. Silently, I protested and wondered if I could get him to change his mind, but now, (and I mean this as lovingly as possible) good riddance! Let him deal with his daughter tomorrow. Mama needs a break.

Ow my achin' lower back

Unfortunately, it seems I may have lifted with the back inadvertantly a few times last night while helping li'l bro move. Fortunately, he managed to rally the troops and we had many hands assisting, which was GREAT. It took approximately 4 hours and afterwards, I brought him home since his new apt. is not 100% ready yet including the bathroom, and this way he could sleep and shower in comfort and also we could come to the medical center together this a.m.

More unfortunate news: it's only the 3rd day of Lent and I have cussed about a dozen times, including about 8 times last night and 2 this a.m. Oops.

Busy busy weekend coming up and it starts early today at 1:30 when I must leave work, head up north to pick up the baby, and meet the nice lady from the county back at our house so she can observe us with S interacting as a family. Tomorrow I have to work at Job #2 and the baby will hang out all day with my mom and grandfather as usual, but when I get off of work she and I will have a little fun b/c a coworker at Job #2 is having her wedding reception and the baby is coming with me as my date! That'll be a fun time, and I'm expecting to enjoy lots of Mexican food. I tried to urge the coworker to order a Nacho Fountain, like in Talladega Nights, but I don't think she did!

Third job note: Well, I was thinking I could start working p/t at the jail, making a fat $28/hour, but it looks like it's not to be. They are going to require us to work 8-hour shifts and here are our choices: 6am-2pm, 2pm-10pm, or 10pm-6am. They also want us to work a minimum of 2 times/week. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN IN MY CURRENT LIFE. I can't create time I don't have out of thin air. I'm upset about losing out on all that dough, and I guess I could give up Job #2 in order to attempt to do this, but man, Job #2 is SO easy and 90% stress-free. It's 5 min. away from my mom who can watch the baby for me and I'm grateful for everything about it. The money would've been sweet at the jail, but I'm not simply not desperate enough to sell my soul and give up any more time and happiness. And talk about a stressful place to work!!!

Fun trivia note: I found out recently that Anna Nicole Smith's mom is, in fact, a retired deputy from my very own sheriff's dept. She retired just a couple of years ago and her name at the time was Virgie Hart. I find that mildly interesting.

Ok, funny stuff here

I won yet another Jeopardy game last night--this makes about 9 in a row. There were 2 questions in particular that provided for much hilarity:

1. S got the answer, "She wrote Fear of Flying" and put Amelia Earheart. I laughed for about 2 hours over this (and yes, buzzed in with the correct answer!).

2. Last night a category was "Hitchcock Film Anagrams" and I got the answer "Spy hoc." "Chopsy?" I puzzled, then realized what the real answer was!

The letter I wrote to the restaurant since y'all want to know

Nicky Servos, Bibas One’s A Meal

607 W. Gray St.

Houston, TX 77019

Dear Mr. Servos,

This is a follow-up letter that I wanted to write regarding our party that we held in the private room this past Friday, February 16. Although you and I spoke on the phone that night and agreed to a compromise, I don’t think you are aware of how truly upset I and my co-hosts are about what happened. This letter is an attempt to convey to you our distress, and to inform you of our future intentions.

To recap: we ordered food for 25 people. You apparently saw our e-vite that was sent to you by our mutual friend, Rozz Zamorano, that said 42 people were coming, and, bolstered by the waitress’ claim that she observed 34 people eating at the buffet, you ordered more food to be brought up to our party without notifying any of us. You then charged us for this extra food that we had not ordered because, as you told me on Friday, you didn’t want the restaurant to “look bad.” It was then that you and I came to the compromise that I and my co-hosts would pay for 29 people, which we did.

Mr. Servos, I can appreciate where you are coming from. You did not want our partygoers to show up and for there to be no more food for them. HOWEVER, this was not your party to throw; it was ours. My budget strictly allowed for 25 people to eat. Since you saw the e-vite, you will recall that we did not advertise dinner for all who showed. We described it as “Greek delicacies to sample.” Like I told you on Friday when we spoke, as far as I was concerned, the first 25 guests could eat. Anyone that arrived after that, they were on their own and they should be the ones feeling bad for coming late. I would also like to point out that of those 42 people who were supposedly coming to the party, several of them never showed up. So we didn’t pay attention to that number, and you certainly should not have. Additionally, the buffet dinner served at 8:20pm instead of 7pm and we were a little miffed about that as well.

I felt I was cordial when I spoke to you on Friday night. There were lots of people standing around listening to me as we spoke, and I did not want to cause a scene and put a black pallor over the fun festivities of the evening. But I want to let you know that I have been eating at Bibas for many, many years. I and my family members have celebrated birthdays and other events at Bibas many times and in the private room a few times. We all love and adore the “mean” waiter, John. But I will NEVER host another party there again based on what I feel was a sneaky, underhanded business move. What you did was not right and it was not fair to us, your customers. My co-hosts were also extremely disappointed in what you did to us and I’m quite certain you’ve lost their future business, as well. There were also several of our guests who heard what was going on, and I’m sure that did not make you look good, as you were hoping.

We have been hosting this Mardi Gras party for the past 7 years and we have partied at various Houston locations. I had been hoping that we might have finally found a home at the Bibas private room and I recommended Bibas as a potential permanent site to my co-hosts enthusiastically. Well, you were so worried about “looking bad”, now you have made me look bad. Finally, you put a permanent bad taste in my mouth for what was, until Friday, one of my favorite restaurants in Houston.

Regretfully,

[signed]

The Lt. says...

He said don't sell Woodrow. He says I will regret it forever. I don't know. I have not heard back from the 2 interested parties, but I am definitely NOT desperate to sell. Sure, it would be nice to tuck him away in a closet and just know that he's still mine, but I'm also kind of over keeping a bunch of material belongings. In the past 2 years I've gotten rid of so many possessions: 1 bass guitar, several cell phones, tons of books and CD's, a microphone, a music stand, etc. so that 1. I wouldn't have to move them anymore, and 2. the $ gotten for them. I've made almost $400 selling these items. I guess we'll see if I get an offer I can't refuse for Woodrow or not.

It's a beautiful day outside. While out getting lunch and running errands I actually had to turn on the a/c, and I'm always the last person to do that! I'm sure we'll get all sweaty tomorrow night moving li'l bro's stuff, but at least it will be at night. Not looking forward to that, ugh... speaking of someone who has too many books and CD's!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today I mailed a very unhappy letter to the owner of the restaurant where we had our Mardi Gras party on Friday. Our mutual friend offered to talk to him on my behalf as well, and I said that would be fine. But I'm pretty upset and as much as I hated to do it, told him that he would no longer have my business. I've been eating at that restaurant since I was a child, so I really regret to have to take this position. But that seems to be the worst way to hurt someone in this country, in the pocketbook!

Court case note: We have our enforcement hearing Part 2 on March 14. I cannot wait!!! Since I've given up cussing for Lent, do I have to come up with a new name for our pathetic adversary? Is "ho" ok? It's also a garden utensil. Anyway, my prayers will be for her to be thrown in jail where she belongs, but I know God will do what needs to be done, no matter what happens.

Losing my good friend... sad times

Now some of you might have a hard time understanding why I am so sad about losing this friend, but I will try to convey to you the significance of our relationship--because it is a very meaningful one in my life!

Yesterday, S and I made the joint decision that it was time for me to (sniffle) sell (sob) my faithful friend/partner on patrol Woodrow, the Kimber Pro CDP II .45 caliber pistol. Woodrow is something else. He looks exactly like the top photo at this link. His namesake is the legendary fictional Texas Ranger, Woodrow Call of Lonesome Dove, et al. He frequently retails at a number with 3 zeros behind it. In short, he is gorgeous! But besides being quite the looker, he was the gun that felt the best in my hand, and when I shot the heck out of him, impressing and amazing everyone who observed me one day when for example, I shot a 6-inch pattern at 25 yards, I knew it was a match made in heaven. When most cops in this country have an ugly black .40 caliber Glock at their sides, Woodrow and I were an easy-on-the-eyes breath of fresh air! PLUS, he's a .45 caliber--the Man Stopper. Folks were tickled to see little ol' me shooting the heck out of such a big, powerful gun. I scored 2nd-highest in my Academy class in firearms. We warmed up on qualification day with dot shooting (colored dots on the targets) and when he saw me shooting out dot after dot, our deadly sharpshooter firearms instructor Sgt. S said to me in front of everyone, "Bella, you're my hero!" (He's one of the few people that calls me Bella.) I love cleaning Woodrow and I always say when I'm done that you could eat off him. I love it when cops ask me what kind of gun I carry, and when I tell them, 100% of them have been impressed. I love walking around the gun range with him, showing him off in my holster. He and I are both show-offs!

Woodrow and I only had a few bad times in a long, storied, beautiful friendship. He did come very close to shooting off my toes once, but it was my fault. I was shooting left-handed and as much as I tried to avoid it, hot expended brass usually hit me in the face, head and sometimes down my shirt. On this occasion, a shell went down my shirt. I pulled my shirt out and jumped up and down trying to shake the red-hot shell out when all of a sudden BANG!!! My finger had still been in the trigger and Woodrow did exactly what he was supposed to do. I froze, thinking I had really done it now, and when I looked down I had bloody stippling all up and down my thigh from the heat of the closeness of the bullet, which most likely had hit the floor right next to my sandaled foot and ricocheted to parts unknown. M. had been shooting in the stall next to me and he had felt the heat and the bang as well, and he slowly peeked around the barricade to see what had happened. I was scared shitless, and I slowly excused myself to go to the bathroom to verify that indeed, I had no more holes anywhere in my body than the ones God gave me. I was so lucky that day.

Then there was last summer when I showed up for annual firearms qualification. Sgt. S made me shoot shotgun first and as usual, he put a lot of pressure on me, telling me to "ding" the target which means to shoot him right between the eyes, which of course, I did. But my game was thrown off that day for some other reasons too, and, unbelievably to all present, I failed qualification. I was humiliated and confused. I had been shooting next to, of all people, the damn Chief, and he took pity on me (sometimes it helps to be a girl) and ordered them to let me try again which they never, ever do. I failed again. Sgt. S said, "Bella, what are you doing to me?" I said that maybe Woodrow's sight had been knocked out of alignment. Sgt. S took Woodrow, shot a few, and said that there was nothing wrong with him. That meant operator error, as in, it was Bella's failure. I drove away, crying and calling S to bawl and tell him the bad news.

Later last year I took not just one, but two marksmanship classes: a regular 1-day one and a 2-day one for women cops only. As always, I had the most beautiful gun in a sea of ugly polymer black ones and as usual, the instructors oohed and aahed over me and Woodrow. Eventually I finally passed qualification, but I realized that if the great gun Woodrow and I were going to maintain the level of greatness we'd always enjoyed, we needed to get our asses to the range on a regular basis like we used to do.

Here's the issues: time and money. I can shoot for free on Mondays (ladies day at the indoor range) but .45 ammo is the most expensive handgun ammo. It's $90 and change on sale at the gun show for 500 rounds, and I typically need to shoot 100 rounds per range visit. But targets cost money too, usually about $1/target (although the instructors at the last marksmanship class I took gave me a whole stack of targets just because they love me--not kidding). But then the time factor comes into play, and my husband, home, and family life come before anything else now. And in case anyone forgot, I'm also working 2 jobs. Basically, it's like what S told me yesterday when I was lamenting at how good a shot I used to be. He pointed out that he used to be a deadly martial artist, but nowadays he no longer has the time and money to train at a dojo regularly like he used to. He made his point, and I sadly agreed that it was time to bid Woodrow adieu. Fortunately, I have a Springfield Armory waiting in the wings to take Woodrow's place when I go on patrol. His name is "Esteban", an obvious namesake. He's a reliable gun but is black and ugly (no offense at all to S who is extremely hot!), yet is a damn easy gun to shoot. He's only a .40 caliber, but that'll stop a man too if I have to, as good a shot as I generally am.

Today I planned on posting Woodrow for sale on the Internet--but first I thought I might send an email to my fellow cops to see if any of them were interested. The subject line was, "Selling my beautiful Kimber Pro CDP." Within 15 minutes I had gotten 4 phone calls and 2 emails, and all of them were concerned colleagues thinking that if I were getting rid of Woodrow, I must be quitting the force. The 1st phone call was from M., who knows how much I love Woodrow, and he asked if I was leaving. Then 2 separate emails only said, "Why????????????"

Now I'm currently in negotiations with one party, and there's another interested party as well. Woodrow will leave with all his accessories such as holsters, magazines, beautiful wooden grips, extra ammo, etc. I will recover a good amount of $--good guns hold their value just like fine jewelry does--but I also want to spend some of it to at least trick out Esteban a little. He has rails on him onto which I can attach a tiny flashlight. I want to equip him with night sights (standard on Woodrow). Or maybe an intimidating laser sight would be the more fun option. And he'll need a duty holster. Then he and I need to get to the range so we can get acquainted with each other (S was always the one to shoot him when we went to the range together). He only has 2 "safeties" whereas Woodrow has 3, so that'll take some getting used to. SIGH. I feel so sad, but this is what I need to do so that I have one less thing to worry about this year when it comes time for annual qualification.

So that's the love story of Bella and Woodrow.

It's Fat Tuesday, y'all

Tomorrow I gotta stop cussing since I gave it up for Lent. That is really gonna be hard.

So we had our 7th annual Mardi Gras party Friday night. It was ok, but this is my last year doing it. I resigned officially from the Krewe for various reasons. You all know that this year my heart wasn't in it anyway, so now I don't have to worry about it anymore and I'm glad. Still, I felt sad putting my "Mardi Gras" box away in the closet.

What else can you do with 5 yards of slick blue fabric besides make a toga? Seriously, I need to know.

Saturday was my and S's 1-year anniversary, yay! He got sent home sick from work, though. So we were able to spend the whole day together, except for when I skipped out to attend the rescheduled Homeowner's meeting onsite which was again unsuccessful since we again lacked our quorum. There was this one gay guy who was screaming in our management company's rep's face. It was really bad behavior and really uncalled for. To be continued next year.

Here's Tito J. singing Josh Grobin at our wedding reception, Feb. 17, 2006. There were lots of moist eyes in the house!

So anyway, S and I spent Sat. lounging around and just being together. We watched School for Scoundrels, which was decent. That night we went out to eat and then bought ourselves a co-anniversary present, Jeopardy! for PS2. That is the only video game I enjoy playing with S, and we haven't played it in 2 years since I tend to be obnoxious and beat everyone in sight (well, Sand M.). But we picked it up on sale for $12.99 and played several games, having a blast.

Sunday S went to work and I went on patrol, making one arrest before I left. Poor S missed his wrestling PPV that night b/c I wasn't able to go, and also M. flaked out on him, plus the other M. was still in Hawaii. Instead he took himself to see Ghost Rider and also snuck into Norbit.

Monday I enjoyed a nice holiday off and we spent the day together again. We tried a Mexican restaurant near the house we hadn't been to yet, and took li'l bro shopping. Later we went running with Tito J. More Jeopardy! was won by me last night. All in all, a great weekend for the most part and a great start to our 2nd married year together!

When psychotic cats attack

M.'s mean cat Luke attacked me for absolutely no reason last night, and even after I fed him! Fucker! I was a professional cat, dog, and house-sitter for many years. I had to chase down cats and force medicine into their mouths. I had to give dogs shots. I've walked, fed, cuddled, played with, and slept with animals that weren't mine many times--and I have NEVER, not ONE time been bit or attacked. I was so pissed. He scratched and bit the shit out of my ankle, drawing blood in several places and ripping my pantyhose. I was holding Lucy's big metal dog dish and I threw it at Luke (making sure not to hit him though, although now I'm thinking I should've hit him to give him a taste of his own medicine). Luke ran to the side of the couch, and I followed him and threw the dog dish at him again. Like I said, I was pissed. I know I have the temper of a hellion, but dammit, in fairness to myself, my temper only really flares up when I am provoked or attacked first. Then I let Lucy into the house and told her to go find Luke and eat him. I took Luke's full food dish, emptied the food back into the bag, and only left him a small snack of a few kernals to eat. That fucking cat will be put on a survival diet only, until M. gets back!

I texted M. that his cat needs to be put down. He called back awhile later (also to tell me it was 80 degrees in Hawaii) to find out what happened. The conversation went partly as follows:
M: He doesn't have claws, I cut his nails.
me: Was he de-clawed, or did you just cut the nails?
M: No, I just cut them.
me: Well, he still has claws!!!
M. hypothesized that I was attacked b/c Luke knew I was scared. Well, I do happen to know that Luke is a mean cat and when I first met M. his hands were always covered with cat scratches. But I've never been outright scared, maybe just a little nervous walking past Luke in the dark. I mean, I've come face-to-face with a damn mountain lion while hiking in New Mexico and lived to tell about that. But last night when I was attacked I was busy in the kitchen getting Lucy's dinner, not even thinking about the damn cat.

I tell you what though, it's on now!!! Luke better watch his ass from here on out. Tonight when I show up I'm going to bring some kind of weapon, either a spray bottle or a broom or something, and if I see Luke anywhere near me, he's getting attacked by me first. I've put a restraining order on that fucking feline. The element of surprise is the best advantage to have in a battle, and it's mine now.

S health note: He's still sick but he went into work today. I'm not sure he'll feel up to the Mardi Gras party tonight, poor thing. I can't wait to get all dolled up, toga and Mardi Gras style! R. suggested we wear our fangs tonight, and so we will!

The head shot that should've been

I will be teaching a class at a chiropractor's conference this summer. I had to send in a head shot along with my bio for the brochure they will be printing up. I sent in this head shot:

But I wanted to send in this one:

Me with fangs won by me and R. by playing Skee-ball at the Saturday birthday party. Fangs for everyone! (Well, me, R. and the baby.)

Oh my beautiful tart

Ohhhhh, last night S got me my tart from La Madeleine that I've always wanted. It was so lovely, covered with strawberries, kiwi, blueberries, grapes, and tiny peaches. I said to it, "I hate to have to cut into you and eat you, but oh well!" And I could only eat one little slice! Poor S, he was so sick. When he got home from work he looked and sounded terrible. He definitely has a very bad cold. But he was happy to see that I'd brought him some wonton soup and some cheese puffs, along with a bag of little Almond Joys, the Triple H t-shirt (which he put on after taking a hot shower), and a card in which I'd written a poem. He called in sick today which he really needed to.

It is way too cold here. It's going to be 28 degrees tonight. What kind of crap is that? I felt bad for Lucy the rottweiler but she has a little igloo and blanket so I guess she'll be ok. She is a hoot. She is still a teenager in dog years and when she bounded into M.'s house last night she headed straight for the mean cat, Luke, who hissed and swatted Lucy with claws. Lucy just looked at her like, "what's wrong? Don't you like me?" and let Luke swat her again.

I'm here at work, pissed off a little. The Director sent an email saying she was going to the Mexican Consulate and to let her know if we wanted to go. Well, I do NOT want to go b/c I do not want to ride in a car with her and that lying asshole, Deb. H., who everyone knows I hate--plus, they're going so I don't really need to go, right? Well, today my colleague came into my office and said that the Director wants me to go. Ummm, that's not what the email said, it asked us if we wanted to go. Why not just say, "You need to go to this with me." Jerks. So I'm going now, but against my will!!! And I'm going to meet them there, driving my own car and getting mileage reimbursement for it. So there!

Toga note: I got 5 yards of this pretty, shiny, electric blue (my fave color) fabric last night. I took it home and tried to toga-wrap it, but I realized I maybe should've gotten a fabric that's more flow-y if I'm going to successfully say, walk and go to the bathroom wearing it. I'll have to wrap this loosely I guess. Well, I'm technically ready for the party tomorrow night, at least!

We are Family

Saturday at the Funplex party I had the baby's purple balloon tied to my pants all night long. The baby had so much fun she pissed her pants while playing in the Playport. I guess that's one mark of an excellent party!!!!!!!!! Raise your hand if you've been there, hah!

The nice lady from the county called us yesterday to offer us another home visit if we could get the baby during working hours, so I told S to go ahead and take off work early next Friday and I would too and pick up the baby early. This will be a hardship for us since S does not get paid time off, but oh well. It will be worth it if she can see us in action as a family. The baby told me yet again on Sunday night she didn't want to go home to the whore. I told her I didn't want her to go either. She told me she only loves me, S, my mom, and my grandfather. Wow, what a thing for a 4-year old to say.

Gotta go pick up some Almond Joys for S tonight as it is his favorite candy bar. I managed to get my separate checking account down to $12 but you know what? So what! That's what that account is for, to spend down to its bare amount (almost). I'm not gonna freak out over it anymore. I'll wrap the AJ's with his other V-day gift, a Triple H t-shirt. He'll love it!

Me at the party with one of my true obsessions, a Little Pink Cupcake.

Happy Valentine's Day to all

I hope you have a nice one. I've had a crummy one so far, which is not fair since V-day always has been somewhat of a special day for me due to my middle name. But besides S and I having a major philosophical difference and subsequent serious discussion yesterday, now he is sick with what seems to be a bad cold.

Still, today at work there are lovely doughnuts so I've already pigged out for the day. I haven't even had the time or energy to figure out what I want to do with S tonight. We don't have a lot of $ to celebrate, that's for sure. And it seems I need to start Rottweiler duty tonight at M.'s house, since he will be in Hawaii and I volunteered to feed Lucy while he was gone through the weekend. I think what I can swing though, is I'll probably pick up Chinese takeout from one of our fave restaurants and just take it home where we'll relax and hopefully S can recuperate a little. (I was sick last year on V-day, strangely enough.)

Today is our unofficial anniversary, 2 years now to the day that we met. Our first wedding anniversary is, of course, this Saturday. I get paid this Friday so we'll do something really cool on Saturday. I'm thinking sushi dinner out!

It was nice that S came with me and Tito J. on Monday night to see Dreamgirls. Although we're sick of Beyonce, we figured Jennifer Hudson and Eddie Murphy would make up for it, and they pretty much did. Jennifer Hudson will be the 1st Idol to win an Oscar--that's my prediction and I'm sticking to it. And I'm good! Anyway, Dreamgirls was all right. I thought some of the songs had silly lyrics ("we are dreamgirls, we are dreamgirls") and were a little on the dull side, but some of the other music was awesome. I wish bands were funky and dirty like they used to be!

Wanted! and 4 poses

Do we look dangerous enough? Grrr!!!

We had too much fun at the Funplex on Saturday! R. came with me and baby, and S even showed up after leaving work early. Our favorite aunt and uncle were there which was so cool. Little Tori (my cousin's daughter's 7-yr old) had a great party! Cupcakes, balloons, ice cream, the whole shmear. And that Funplex was something else: indoor ferris wheel, rides, Play-port, Skee-ball, arcade, pool, etc.



Later, R. and I attempted to evoke 4 emotions. Below, clockwise from upper left: 1. Demure 2. Homicidal 3. About to throw up 4. In love.

All in all, yet another successful family weekend. Storytime on Sat. was also great, which we hadn't been to in awhile since my Saturday work-day now falls on baby weekend. Sunday church had a wonderful surprise when the good reverend Dr. referenced my beloved movie All That Jazz in his sermon! Too much.

Reading Justice

I'm reading Dominick Dunne's Justice (appropriate title, eh? For those of you in the know). So I'm not the only ghoul/death hag out there--he's quite the respected, civilized one! His account of his daughter's murder and subsequent gallingly unjust trial of her ex-boyfriend who strangled her (the asshole only got 6 years and served 2 1/2) makes me absolutely disgusted. Courts of law get it so wrong sometimes, it's scary. And all this reading I'm doing at the same time about the O.J. trial is b/c I just want to be prepared mentally for what we're going to go through here, hopefully sooner than later, and to not be too surprised at anything that might come up. The reason we're so tapped out financially this month is b/c I freaked out and paid a shitload of money over on the 3 credit cards that we're juggling to pay our legal expenses. I put a lot over there b/c the idea of paying finance charges also disgusts me and I want to do anything I can in order to not pay a penny more than we have to!!! But I know that's futile, and I should just find peace with the fact that there's not a damn thing we can do about our expensive custody battle and just keep doing what we're doing to keep it going. Today our lawyer is supposed to go see the court clerk in person to get us our dates on the upcoming Enforcement Hearing Part 2 and hopefully our jury trial.

Dominick Dunne says that he got so tired of hating the man that killed his daughter, that he finally realized hate is no emotion to go through life feeling every day, so now it is his most fervant wish that he just never see or hear of him again. I admit, I'm envious of Dunne's current state, that he was able to achieve that state, albeit after a long time. Because I feel hatred every single day of my life towards that piece of shit whore that we are having to battle. My prayers to God are filled with pleas that He put her in her rightful, condemned, horrible place. I spend a lot of time thinking of key phrases to use when I have my day in court to illustrate to the judge and jury how truly evil she is.

Anyway, enough of that. I've had a headache since last night, probably weather-related yet again. My Valentine's Day gifts for S came in the mail last night: several wrestling DVD's for his ever-growing collection, which I surrendered to him last night, and another gift that he will get next week. I also got me a V-day gift, a red Eddie Guerrero t-shirt!

Picking up the baby tonight, and tomorrow we will have fun, fun, fun at my cousin's b-day party! It will do the baby good to buy a present for someone else, and not get anything herself. She needs to learn giving and charity! When we went to church I let her put our offering into the collection basket. I'm looking forward to going to church again this weekend with her. Church really does give me a certain kind of peace that I really need nowadays.

Charlie Murphy

I had to take in DH's car, "Charlie Murphy" as I call it, this a.m. to our trusted mechanic who is downtown, then ride the rail in. I call the car Charlie Murphy b/c it is black, i.e., dark, i.e., "Darkness" as fans of the Chappelle show will recognize. I hope whatever needs to be done does not cost very much b/c we are tapped out already for the month. I dipped into my separate checking account last night for groceries, which was really not a problem, I mean, that's what the money's there for, but I get crazy neurotic when my bank accounts start to hover around the cushion that is my personal comfort level. For example, this small separate account I have is where the dough from Job #2 goes, so its regular monthly input is a smidge under $600 total. I use that account to pay my car note, the cell phone bill, and finally, a certain amount for property taxes is taken out every month to go hide over at the credit union. My minimum comfort level for this account after all bills are paid is, say, $50. I just can't reconcile it in my head that $50 is (gulp) perfectly respectable and that I could spend all the $ in this account down to $1 if I really wanted to. Nope! I can't do it! Don't try to convince me! $50 minimum or death!

Well, I got it down to $44 today, and I didn't die, so that's good. Still... it hurts.

Trying to decide next which married status DH and I should file our taxes under. I keep leaning one way, then the other. There are pros and cons to both. This sucks.

Good news: my car insurance agent finally convinced me, with actual numbers and figures and after many phone calls and emails for almost 2 months, to switch my homeowner's insurance over to him. The discount on our vehicles we'll now get should pay for the condo insurance, so I'm coming out ahead. But I had to write a check to him this week to cover the 1st half of the year. I'll get a partial refund from the other place, but who knows when?

So I brought my lunch today! I've got just a few bucks to spare these days and I'm saving it for fun times with the baby this weekend. At least I have a lovely black-and-white cookie to enjoy today ("Look to the cookie!"--Seinfeld) that I was delighted to find at our local HEB last week. It's good to live in a Jewish neighborhood.

...but I'm feeling much better now!

Thanks to me Ma's advice, I got on saline nasal spray last night and popped a Singulair and I'm feeling not too shabby today. I just got outta my nursing stude's class and I think I faked it pretty well. They wanted 2 hours out of me, they got an hour and a half, and we're all happy, I think. I'm always amazed when I can make it to work by 8:29 for an 8:30 class. You know--traffic really SUCKS that early in the morning!!! No wonder I always slink in at 9-ish, 9:30-ish! Who needs all that aggravation? Let the peons fight their way in! I'm sleepin' in and watching Tyra! Seriously, I just feel I'm doing my part to not contribute to the morning traffic madness by coming in later.

Maybe I figured it out

I think I'm allergic! As in, I think this general cruddiness I'm feeling and this Puffs-Plus extreme addiction is due to my allergies. It has to be mold related, since I'm only allergic to dust, mold, and certain cats. Somehow the constantly-changing weather (this IS Texas) is screwing with me and the mold output. At least, I hope that's what this is.

I wish I could take a sick day tomorrow but I have to teach my 3rd part of the 3-part series of EBP classes to those Texas Children's nursing studes. I am not looking forward to it since, 1. I have to be there at the un-Godly hour of 8:30 a.m., and 2. They are expecting a 2-hour presentation from me on some databases and websites that I only just looked at today, finally! (I work best under pressure and everyone knows it.) Oh well, at least I fixed up a cool Powerpoint w/handouts for them--they like that!

There is no reason for me to want chocolate when I go on break here at Job #2 in a little bit. S came home yesterday with yet another tiny heart-shaped box of chocolates for me. I ate 3 chocolates before we went running! And a piece of cake afterwards! And today I got fed pizza and cookies for participating in a focus group at work. But I popped a Benadryl about an hour ago and am starting to feel mellow. So a little Baby Ruth might give me just the jolt I need to keep going until 9pm.

Valentine's Day note: I asked for 2 things from S. The mouth-watering-looking fruit tart at La Madeleine that I've never sampled but have always admired. It costs $18 but I'm sure I'll taste every penny! And (cheese alert) 1 perfect rose to symbolize the 1st year of our marriage. I got the idea from my friend, Hulk Hogan, who gets his wife 1 rose for each year they've been married. Last count was 22 roses. Awwww!

Fighting it?

I hope I'm not trying to fight something off, but since Saturday it's been feeling like that a little bit. I'm also not sleeping as well as I should, and last night I had a violent coughing attack in the middle of the night after falling asleep at around 9 freakin' 30. However, we went running last night which went well. As much as I despise running it always makes me feel better. Anyway, I've got too many plans this weekend to be derailed by getting sick again. Crap, I was just sick in December, what's the damn deal?!? And today's my long day of 2 jobs. Perhaps a hot toddy when I get home late tonight will help.

Loafy Sunday

Well, I did not make it out to patrol yesterday. I just could not peel myself off the couch in order to put on all that gear and go out and fight crime. Yesterday was my 1 day off just to have to myself in sooooo long, and I needed it! Plus, I had to dust and sweep [Health note: I'm very big on dusting and sweeping ever since last year when I was diagnosed with almost-anaphylactic allergies to dust], wash and dye my hair after my Saturday-evening haircut, tidy up downstairs, clean the kitchen, finish reading The Rice Room, etc. etc. Not to mention... it was an all-day marathon of Monk, which I cannot resist! They even showed my favorite one, the one with Willie Nelson, which always makes me tear up at the end when they play "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain" over Monk's wife's grave. Sniffle!

After being cooped up all day--by choice but still!--I met S when he got off work for a nice dinner out. We haven't gone out to dinner, just the 2 of us, since New Year's so to me it was a special occasion. Good end to a long loafy day.

And Saturday night at Brave Combo was joyous! M. met me there and we ran back and forth between the Continental and the Big Top, where as always, I saw lots of musician friends. At the Continental I also ran into one of my fave medical stude's, whom I know from when he was a boy and would come every day to the public library I worked at. My mom and stepdad stayed all night for the show, and so did M., but I skipped out at the break around midnight, since I'd had 2 hot toddy's before at home and didn't want to risk getting sick and worn down.

So I finished The Rice Room and am continuing on with more O.J. Simpson trial books. I didn't care much for Rice Room. You'd just think that Ben Fong-Torres, the legendary Rolling Stone reporter, would write a thrilling, fascinating memoir, but it just didn't do it for me. His prose wasn't gripping or descriptive enough. It was "memoir lite." And nowhere near the level of can't-put-it-down-reading-it-in-snatches-at-stop-lights like Amy Tan's writings--but then that's a high standard for anyone to try to achieve.

Learned an awesome new word today

Froideur! I love it. It sounds like me in a lot of situations. I should make you all look it up yourselves if you don't know it, but I guess I'll be nice.
—n. French. an attitude of haughty aloofness; cold superiority.

It is way too early and cold to be out

Yet here I sit at Job #2, having gotten here only 20 min. late. But the other girl who was supposed to work w/me today, called and said she's going to be an hour late! And she lives right near the damn library. So I guess she's not going to take a lunch today! Normally I would let it slide and let her take a brief lunch anyway, but I recently heard that she's a tattletale, which I don't respect in the workplace. So just for that, I'm not about to let her get away with anything on my watch. And when I'm here, being the only professional Master-degreed librarian, I'm large and in charge!!! (However, I do like tattletales when it comes to kids and when I'm being a cop. Like I told the baby one time when my friend's little boy was being mean to her, "No one likes a tattletale, baby. Except me!") (and just fyi, that line was stolen from Caddyshack!)

I can be such a cool large-and-in-charge, too. I don't care how long your breaks are. If they run over 15-min. what difference does it make? It's not like we're on a heart surgery team, we work in a public library (plus I like to take long breaks too!). And I always let the other folks leave early at closing time, like 5-10 min. early while I stay behind to close up w/the circ. staff. No sense in making them hang around while we do it! Plus, I'm getting paid to be in charge, while I know they aren't getting paid as much as I am, so it's the least I can do to let them go when they're ready to go. So as cool as I can be, it's really not a good idea to get on my bad side by being an asshole or a tattletale.

I want candy!

Yesterday I had the worst craving for something sweet. I had just left the library where my lame-ass electronic health kiosk is, and made a date w/my girlfriend who works there for tomorrow night to go see our beloved Brave Combo. I was on my way to Job #2 and I desperately needed something sweet if I was going to make it through the night. I spotted a Jack in the Box on the left--shakes, yum! But, too expensive. I saw a Sonic on the right--shakes, etc., yum! But, I couldn't commit to anything on their menu. I found a mint in my car, and thought that might hold me, but no, there had to be something else out there for me! I finally decided the CVS would be the best deal and it was. For $3 and change I got 3 snack packs--on sale!--of my fave chocolate bars. See, I'm a sampler (in fact, S calls me "The Sampler") and generally don't need a whole lot to sas-tisfy, as they say in New Orleans, certain cravings of mine. I threw the bag in my locker at work where it will remain and last me awhile. Later while on break, a tiny Baby Ruth, eaten in 2 bites, held me all night long!

Tonight they'll show the wrestling event on tv that we went to the other night. Look for us in the audience. Yeah, right!

Never mind, no Vengeance for us

Yesterday I got a "pre-order" ticket alert email from the jive-ass Toyota Center offering to let me pre-buy tickets for Vengeance starting today at 9am! However--tix ranged from $250, $90, $70, and all the way down. S said, "Floor or nothing!" so I hustled to get my butt to work by 9am sharp so I could log on and see what' I could get at the $90 level. Well, the floor certainly wasn't an option! So now I will have to break the bad news that we won't be going after all to my coworker when I see her tonight at Job #2 so she can break the bad news to her grandson. The good news is, I'm glad we aren't going to spend that much $ on wrestling tix. I saved $1.50 last night at the grocery store and another $2.00 at Walgreens with coupons, so my financial war continues on as always. I love to make S happy but we don't need to be spending a fortune on wrestling events, that's for sure.