I was sitting here in my bedroom, perusing my subscriptions on Google Reader, when I heard the strangest sound: Guitar music, coming from . . . my living room? It stopped, so I thought maybe it was someone going by outside with their radio turned all the way up. Our walls are paper-thin, so it's possible. But then, after a few minutes, I heard singing. Nothing in particular – just an "OOOoooOOO . . . OooooOOOooo . . . ", like someone playing around with a microphone and pretending to be a lounge singer, or something.

Oh no, I thought, the neighbor [I share a wall with] has an amplifier! I got up and started searching for the sound, but it wasn't coming from the living room area (like through the window, in the direction of the neighbor with whom we share a wall) – it was coming from the bathroom. Turns out, the people who live in the duplex off to the side of us (who, incidentally, could see in our bathroom if we left the window open like I do sometimes because we need airflow on hot days) have an amplifier. And a microphone. And no sense of propriety.

I don't hear her anymore. Honestly, I don't mind as long as she seems to be on-key, but it was loud. And Pie is supposed to be sleeping.

Okay, I was wrong. She's started back up again: Singing and playing the guitar. For the neighborhood.

But, really, could it be as bad as the guy in the Poulsbo apartments who sang "Tiny Dancer" all the time, off-key, and played his guitar through an amp? I don't know. I didn't have a kid back then who needed a nap . . . ;)

Last week was our 9th wedding anniversary. We got to go to a REAL movie theater, and pay a REAL small fortune for tickets to see the new Star Trek – which was AWESOME!!! No, seriously – I was a major Trek fan as a kid. I was never as bad as some who just go too far with it, and I never got to go to conventions, but I do remember being very critical of the first episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation – at the tender age of thirteen. That is, until I laid eyes on Wesley Crusher, who I had a major crush on for a few years, until he turned all whiny and arrogant, and I moved on to crush over Jonathan Brandis for a while (Neverending Story II, Ladybugs, SeaQuest).

Anyway, I kind of stopped watching anything Trek after DS9 came out and Star Trek became . . . overdone. I went to see the movies, but they just weren't as good.

UNTIL NOW. I want to go back and see it again! And again! Cost be darned! Don't you see – MY CHILDHOOD HAS BEEN RESURRECTED!!! :D

And it doesn't hurt that the cast is totally made of AWESOME. :)

The verdict: LOVED. IT. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!

****

Okay, I'm done drooling over Star Trek for the moment. Maybe.

SQUEEEEE! It was so SHINEY!!!!

Okay, NOW I'm done. ;)

****

My weekend was a blur – I held a skin care class for the first time in . . . um, too long. Time to get my business out of the "hobby" category – we need the money. It was fun. I certainly need more practice (a LOT more practice), but I can get good at it. I totally could. :)

We ate dinner at Sweetie's parents' house on Friday night and at our friends' house on Saturday night. Lotsa good food! We played Arkham Horror on Saturday until late into the night, while Suquamish lit itself on fire, and got home eeeeeaaarrrlllyyyy in the morning. We got a few hours of sleep, woke up, and got to church at 10:30. We didn't get back home again till 8-ish (9-ish?) that night. Crashed hard, slept till 8am. Sweetie took today off – at first by accident, and then on purpose – and went geocaching with a friend from church. Pie and I stayed home and whined.

( TMI ALERT )

I edited my friend's stories while Pie napped, and tried to convince him that the world is not going to end while he was awake. He is teething. It's FUN.

I finally fixed his original Blankie Bear, whose nose had been almost chewed off (it's embroidered, and Pie had chewed some of the thread out). Hopefully, quilting thread will hold up to his new teeth. Pie is very happy to have his friend back. Nobody is as chewable as Blankie Bear – he has four blankie pets, but Blankie Bear is his favorite. :)

Well, I should go to sleep now. I've been trying to wake up earlier so I can work out and feel like I'm doing something useful before Pie wakes up in the morning. The house is still a crazy, cluttered mess, and we're probably going to have Sweetie's dad and stepmom over for a few days – but I don't know when. So I need to get to work! Maybe I'll clean out a closet tomorrow . . .

Pie ate a WHOLE BANANA by taking actual bites of it, no pre-mashing required!!! I had to hold it for him and keep him from taking huge dinosaur bites (he gagged on one he couldn't quite chew up), and I took a few mini-bites, myself, to show him – but, other than that, he ate the whole thing!

He is now feeding himself applesauce. It keeps him entertained for a little while. I should've been doing the dishes while he was busy with that, but oh well. Shiny computer.

Anyway, that's my news for today. :) Except that I have a kickin' headache that just will not go away, so I'm going to go take some medicine. Laterz!

Yikes! It's been almost fifteen days since I last posted! I've become one of THOSE people: The kind who never update. There are reasons, trust me. One is that I've kind of kicked my internet habit, which I'd been meaning to do for . . . ever. Doesn't mean other good habits have taken its place, but at least I'm not spending all day on the internet anymore.

Another reason is that I really have very little that is interesting to say. And my adult language vocabulary is pretty rusty. Stringing words together that are not "NO" and "Hey, quit that" and "Who's the CUTEST boy in the WEST?" takes a long time, which I never have. At least, to spend on the computer.

This'll be a long post, though, because my husband forwarded me a funny email about last Thursday night's events, while I was at my Mary Kay meeting. It has been edited for OPSEC and internet safety, and all that. Also, Pie is 16 months old. As of yesterday. :)

( ----------BEGIN FORWARDED MESSAGE----------- )

Our choir concert went FABULOUSLY this weekend, despite our conductor coming down with the flu the night before and having to stay at home, lest she get us all sick. She had a replacement conductor from our ranks, who did such a wonderful job! I certainly couldn't have done it. However, it also demonstrated how strong our group has become: We couldn't have functioned without a director, but we were so well-prepared that any director could take over, and we'd do fine.

I'm so proud of us! :)

I got to thinking during our rehearsals, and had intended to blog much sooner than now on this subject. But I haven't really been using the computer that much this week.

On Tuesday, I was "the" strong first soprano who was able to show up, out of three. We have eight firsts, total, but one had pneumonia, one is out of town for the foreseeable future, one hasn't been able to make it to any rehearsals, and one was celebrating a birthday with her family that night. The other three who were there with me Tuesday are our shyer firsts. :) Goodness knows we need them, of course, but they don't seem to suffer from "The Diva Complex" as those of stronger voice seem to.

A while back, I read a post by a blogger I respect and admire, and felt a distinct kinship.

High sopranos get kind of a bad rap sometimes – and though some of us deserve it, we're not all that bad. ;) I will readily admit to having been a bit snobby (inwardly, of course) in the past regarding my singing skill. Thankfully, I'm not so good that I didn't have plenty of opportunities to be humiliated, too. I've learned a lot about being a conscientious high soprano – but the Diva Complex is still there, hiding behind my conscience, ready to jump out at an opportunity to show off . . .

On Tuesday, because I was the only strong, brave first soprano in our section, I got to test drive a solo, and belt a high B-flat three times at the end of the song.

Let me tell ya, there are few things that energize me more than enthusiastically exercising my upper register. :) Heck yeah – it was awesome!

However, when my fellow strong first soprano came back for the next rehearsal, I had to share the solo. I thought I was going to get to belt the B-flat with her, because the girl who was supposed to was sick, but I was too loud. We compromised: I would get the cool part of the solo while she got the B-flat. :)

See, we Divas can get along! ;)

Often, Divas in choirs get competitive. However, if they're conscientious Divas, they can learn to blend with each other. Competition can't exist in complex harmonies (a house divided against itself, and all that). We were becoming frustrated with ourselves, because we both knew we were strong enough to carry our own part, but it seemed as if we kept following the other and making each other's mistakes. I told her I'd realized the night before that we were probably trying to blend with each other, and our concentration on each other's sound and pacing would weaken our concentration on our counting and on hitting the right notes at the right time.

I think back to high school, when I was, again, "the" strong first soprano in our symphonic choir. When I lost my voice (seasonal allergies), my section actually complained that I needed to get better, because they needed me in order to sing their parts. It was flattering that I carried such a responsibility among them, but I remember being frustrated that they couldn't do it, too.

Being a strong singer is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because I can often carry a note against dissonance; I can hold a clear, sustained note, usually without going flat; I learn my part quickly; I can stick out when I need to stick out and back off when I need to back off; I can lead; and I get a lot of compliments, because I have a pretty voice. ;) It's a curse, because all that can go to my head, and it's easy to be frustrated with those who can't keep up. I don't want to be frustrated with others, and I don't want to be a snob about my singing. It's my thorn in my side. (It's also a curse when you're one of few or the only strong singer, and it's obvious you had to drop out of a sustained note to catch a breath, or you've hit the wrong note while singing full voice. I HATE when that happens.)

I've been thinking about my strengths lately, and I realized my singing voice is definitely one of them. It's not something I'd use to identify myself, or anything, but it's something I excel at, and can be reasonably proud of.

I'm more at home with my Diva-ness now. Sometimes it's hard, but I can swallow my pride when I need to. :) I also know I'm not cut out for every solo. THAT was a hard lesson to learn in high school . . . Thankfully, my choir director back then was a smart, gracious man who knew what I could do and what I couldn't. :)

Okay, I think I've rambled enough. This probably isn't the sparkling blog post I'd imagined I'd write after my musings about The Diva Complex, but I don't care. :) I'm tired, and I want to get back to editing my friend's books.

But that's a post for another time! :)

I woke up well before I wanted to, because Pie's internal clock is more demanding than mine. He might stay up WAAAYYY past his bedtime, but he sure does get up at the same time every morning! I was hoping he'd at least sleep till 7, but he was awake and loud at 6:30. Yay.

I had a headache, which I'll blame on sinuses, because that's what it feels like. Sweetie rubbed my shoulders for a minute to help loosen the tension, but it's still there . . .

Pie entertained himself for a while and gave me a chance to be on the computer, but he started getting fussy after a bit. I put him in his high chair and tried to fix him some breakfast. He wouldn't eat it. Okay . . . Fix him something else. Won't eat that. Fix him something else – he eats half of it and refuses the rest. SO, I mix it all up (compatible food) and eat it, myself. I had a LOT of oatmeal this morning! (Besides the fact that he is INCREDIBLY PICKY, he is also teething, so he doesn't like even some of his favorite foods.)

While Pie was drinking his milk/Pediasure stuff, I filled little Glad storage cups with yogurt and a blended strawberry/banana mixture. Halfway through that project, Pie became VERY whiny and threw his cup on the floor. My headache was beginning to pound at this point.

I finished my project, despite the whining, and got them all into the freezer for future use. Then, I changed Pie's diaper and put him in the living room.

Stupid Mistake #1: I put my book and coffee cup within reach on a stool. I thought he might leave it alone, because it's kind of out of sight – but while I was downstairs putting his clothes in the dryer (I finally washed all his clothes), I heard a thump, and just knew . . .

He standing behind the gate, holding my book (which was miraculously untouched). My large, once-full coffee cup and its entire contents were on the floor. Because it had been up high, the blast radius was pretty large.

*Sigh* Totally my fault, but he hasn't yet learned to leave things alone that he isn't supposed to touch. Still, a very stupid mistake.

I grabbed him and took him into the bathroom, where I ran water for a bath, since he was covered in coffee. While the water was running, I took off his jumper and his diaper.

Stupid Mistake #2: I should have waited to take the diaper off until he was just about to get into the water. But NOOOOO, I had to be all "do it at once". I looked down, and he was peeing on the bath mat.

I had to laugh. My head was throbbing, I had a massive coffee spill that still needed cleaning up, and now my son was peeing on the floor.

FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC.

While he was in the tub, I took two seconds to run the bath mat into the living room and lay it on the floor over the coffee spill (urine folded on top, of course) and stomp on it a bit. Then, I went back into the bathroom to finish washing Pie. We finished the bath; I dried, lotioned, diapered, and dressed him; and then I laid him in bed, because the whining and eye-rubbing meant NAP TIME. Of course, even if he didn't want to sleep, he was still going to hang out in his crib, because I needed time to clean the carpet, and I didn't want someone whining in my vicinity for any longer than necessary.

I took all the towels downstairs (including the bath mat) and started the washer (and dryer, since I hadn't finished putting clothes from the washer into the dryer when I heard my coffee cup hit the floor). Naturally, Pie had to go soak his outfit in coffee right after I'd finished washing a huge load of his clothes.

I have a Bissel Little Green Machine, which is harder to use over a large area than one of those carpet steamer things, but it works well enough for my needs. I cleaned the coffee up, and now the carpet's drying. Pie is napping now, THANK GOD. I was going to run a nice, hot bath and soak for a while, but . . .

Stupid Mistake #3: I ran a full load of towels in hot water, which depletes it enough that I can't run an entire hot bath.

I might try, anyway. My medicine is kicking in (and I'm sitting still), so my head doesn't hurt as much right now. Maybe I should just take a nap, too . . .

Anyway. I'm glad Pie is hanging out with Sweetie tonight while I go to choir. I need to escape the whining!

I woke up stuffy this morning (again), and feeling all-around icky. My throat was dry and my voice was scratchy and my nose was stuffy. Hoo-ray. It's been a long week and a half of dealing with this snot, and I have a choir concert on Saturday, and three rehearsals before then.

So I decided to finally call the doctor and rule out sinus infection. I got an appointment for late this afternoon with my actual provider – who I knew I was going to be seeing on Wednesday for my physical, but I decided not to wait that long.

I really like my provider. I only just met her today, so I had been kind of worried – I hadn't even been sure she was a she, because she had a name that could be either one (like mine). She seemed about my age, though, and extremely personable. I like her a lot.

Thankfully, I don't have a bacterial infection, and it doesn't appear I have a virus, either – just some icky allergies clogging up the works. This is a good thing, because I don't know that I could have taken antibiotics while breastfeeding.

I got a bunch of advice on when and how often to use stuff I already have (Claritin, Sudafed, the Neti Pot, and a Sudafed nasal spray that is basically Afrin), and was prescribed Flonase, which is a topical corticosteroid that is recommended for use by allergy sufferers throughout allergy season (March through September).

It kind of made me giggle this evening when I thought about it: What do you prescribe someone with too much stuff in their nose? More stuff to stick up it! :D

The Neti Pot is a teapot-shaped thing that you stick up one nostril and pour through your sinuses so that the water streams out the other nostril. Repeat on the other side. The Sudafed/Afrin (too lazy to look up the chemical name – oxy-something-or-other) and Flonase are nasal sprays (the Flonase kind of smells like flowers: "Lightly floral-scented, for your huffing pleasure!"). I'm glad I don't have to snort the Claritin, too. :)

I'm supposed to use the Sudafed/Afrin spray two days before my concert, because that drug has a compounding effect (makes things worse) if used for more than three days. It's also addictive, as my parents found out years ago.

Hopefully this goes away soon. I'm tired of the stuffy/swimmy head and irritated throat.

I'm falling asleep at the keyboard, so I'm going to wrap this up. Night!

Someone is taking advantage of my monstrous recycling bin. I wouldn't mind so much, except that what they're putting in there on garbage day is not recyclable.

Our garbage and recycling weren't picked up two weeks ago. No big deal, because the garbage can gets picked up every week, and the recycling bin is absolutely humongous. However – and this isn't the first time – I discovered pizza boxes in there when I opened it to dump the small house recycling can. Three or four pizza boxes, and a smaller bread box, now take up about a quarter of my garbage can space. Not only that, but there were still crusts and detritus in the boxes. Gross.

One of the biggest rules of recycling cardboard and paper is that it is not recyclable if it has been contaminated by food. The only exception to this are milk cartons, because there is a high-quality paper between the outside and inside layers. Also, since everything is thrown together, I guess it's not a big deal if the paper is dripped on by the last drops of soda in a can (although it's best to rinse those, first).

I don't mind if someone wants to put a couple pieces of recyclable material in the can – I'm only paying about $6/month for the service. As long as they don't put so much that I can't fit my stuff in there, I really don't mind. But I have to draw the line at non-recyclables. It kind of goes without saying, right?

(I have an argument with my parents all the time about putting non-recyclable plastic in their bins. They insist that the plastic should be recyclable. I tell them it is not possible to recycle some forms of plastic, regardless of whether they think it should. I think you should be able to use dish soap in the dishwasher – it's all used to clean dishes! But we all know that is not recommended for the use of the dishwasher, and, in fact, will cause that load of dishes to be unusable, and will have wasted the water used to run the load. Same analogy goes for pizza boxes. Not. Recyclable.)

ANYway, I put a big note on the lid of the can, and I hope it will be respected. I really don't want to have to go out and check before the truck comes every other Monday morning. I've heard that sometimes recyclables won't be picked up if there are non-recyclables present, though I suspect pizza boxes have been put in there a lot when I haven't been looking. I just don't want a load of recyclables to be rendered useless because my neighbors can't respect my property, or pay for their own flippin' recycling bin.

I should probably go check on Pie. He's been asleep a long time . . .

What ON EARTH does Pres. Obama think he's doing?! How does selling us (and our allies) out to the world make our country any stronger? How does jetting around the country and the world save us money, and provide a good example of "green living"? How does spending EXCRUCIATING amounts of money on social programs, trips around the world, trips two states away, trips to local hamburger joints, and funding other countries' problems save our economy? How do raising taxes and promoting abortion create a more stable fiscal base in the future? How does giving up our inalienable rights (of life, liberty, and property/happiness) to those whose worldview and faith reject such rights, bring us greater prosperity in the end?

Honestly – how does this man SLEEP at night?

We live in freaking Backwards Land. How does one escape a nightmare? Seriously? 'Cause I've tried pinching myself, and it's just not working.

I wrote a blog post over at Smart Girl Politics:

Apology Tour 2: Electric Boogaloo

When will the leader of our country uphold and exalt the country he leads? The Constitution it's based upon? The rights we have as United States citizens?

I don't see it happening anytime soon. Not without being forced.

Hold on tight – it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Still feeling kinda blah, and my sinuses are still backed up, but I can breathe for the most part. My voice is still scratchy and nasal. But, overall, I can tell the end is near. At least for this bout of allergies. Hopefully, it's the only one for a while.

Sweetie discovered that the circuit breaker for the dryer was tripped, so he turned it back on and got the dryer to work again. I don't know that it's putting out as much heat as it's supposed to, and I'd really like to know what tripped the breaker, but it is nice to know we still do have a mostly-working clothes dryer. I need to get it serviced, though. It's not as urgent as a non-working dryer situation would have been, but it does need to be done. It made funny noises the day we got it.

Ummm . . . there might have been more I was going to write about, but I'm tired. 'Night!

Thank goodness my interview was yesterday morning, before my allergies descended upon me like locust.

That's a bad analogy. But whatever. My head hurts. :p

First things first: The Space Bags interview went very well. I felt a little nervous, and tripped over myself a bit, but they make a bunch of soundbites and they piece them together into a kind of testimonial montage. Pie even got to be in it toward the end, and they LOOOVED him. I should be receiving a copy of the commercial when it's done, and a link to the website so I can post it and send it to people. THEN, when you see those two-minute home-shopping spots on cable TV for Space Bags, look for the gal with really short hair (got my hair re-cut the other day, and it's pretty darn short – but really cute), no glasses, and wearing a yellow sweater. I talk about my Space Bag being in a flood, and about some decorations I was able to store in one. Pie is wearing jeans and a blue sweatshirt.

I got up around 4am to get ready. I'd loaded the car the night before with all the Space Bags I was bringing with me, and gotten as much rounded up as I could so I wouldn't have to think about it in the morning. I was hoping to leave by 6am, in case there was traffic. It only took me an hour to get there (I didn't really get on the road till 6:20 – had to stop for coffee!), so I had some time to try to feed Pie his breakfast, which he wouldn't eat because I hadn't cooked the oatmeal enough. There was a caterer there providing snacks throughout the day – she had little quiches and chicken sausages in the morning. All organic, eco-friendly, etc. It was Queen Anne/Fremont (Seattle), after all.

Later on, I got in to see the makeup/hair/wardrobe person. She put stage makeup over the makeup I was already wearing and tweezed my brows a little (I'd tweezed the heck out of them a few days ago, but I appreciated her shaping them for me – she was quick about it, too!). She was really fun! She showed me pictures of her son, and talked about how she got to do Obama's makeup for a news spot after the rally he had here in WA. Now, I might not be a big fan of Obama, but that is still pretty cool. My makeup artist for this spot did Obama's makeup once – two degrees of separation from me to the President. How about that? ;)

The background was white, the couch was white with a blue throw pillow, and the ottoman in front of me was white. And there were huge light panels all focused on me. The interview guy sat in front of me, and to his right was a big TV camera that I wasn't supposed to look at, but kept looking at because, well, it's a huge TV camera! I had to repeat a lot of things, because I kept saying "them" instead of "Space Bags", and I was having trouble being concise. The makeup gal had to keep touching up my shiny nose. All in all, it was pretty fun. Pie enjoyed himself, too, and was VERY good. Everyone thought he was the bestest thing ever.

We finished up, had a few people come up and talk to us. The people from Space Bags said they'd send more to me. That's a good thing, because I have been thinking of more uses for them. :)

It was pretty warm outside when we left. I decided to go visit Sweetie at work, since we were on that side of the bridge, and I wanted an excuse to get Jamba Juice (although I might have gotten some, anyway, had I gone home). I'd only had about three and a half hours of sleep the night before, and my sinuses were beginning to make themselves known. Had the interview been any later in the day, or today, I might not have been able to pull it off.

We visited Sweetie for a little while, and then we went home. Pie had already taken a couple naps in the car, so there was no way I'd be putting him down when we got home. I stuck him in his high chair in front of a Blue's Clues video in the bathroom so I could take a shower (I had a LOT of makeup on, and my hair was very stiff). As the evening progressed, my sinuses got fuller and fuller.

I finally used my Sudafed OM inhaler, and it worked almost instantly. My nasal passages burned for a while, but it was worth it to be able to breathe again. It didn't work for the whole 12 hours, though, since I woke up this morning feeling like ten miles of bad road.

I'm pretty sure I'm fighting a sinus infection. Pie is feeling pretty lousy, too. I've already had to dose him with some Baby Motrin to bring down a mild fever, and suck his nose out a few times (THAT's fun).

I think we might venture to the store when he wakes up from his nap, if only to pick up ingredients for chicken soup. I still need to go to Costco, and the bank . . . but ugh. We'll see.

I think I've rambled enough for now. Hafta make a phone call, too. Hasta!

Well, we survived the weekend. We did have to take Pie to the ER on Sunday night, because his cough was horrible, and we didn't want to suffer through him choking and gasping for breath all the way home. The hospital was right around the corner, so we went there.

Fortunately, it wasn't very busy when we got there. UNfortunately, it got busy really quick, and other people were more urgent than we were. Pie's coughing wasn't as bad when he wasn't in his carseat, so we wondered if they were going to take us seriously. We were all pretty exhausted (I'd come home from my choir practice and collapsed on the couch for half an hour, or so, because Pie was finally napping), so the whole ordeal seemed to take forever, and Pie wanted to run around and play in the exam room, and we wouldn't let him, so he was crying and kicking and squirming . . .

The doctor said there was really nothing we could do, there was no ear infection or labored breathing, it wasn't croup – just keeping using the humidifier, saline solution, and vapor rub. The paperwork said he had a "URI" – Upper Respiratory Infection – but it didn't require medication. I don't know, that's probably for the best – I don't know that I could have stood waiting in the pharmacy with a fussy baby.

Part of me is glad we went, to rule things out, but part of me wishes we'd just skipped it. We gave Pie some more Baby Motrin in the car, salined his nose and sucked it out, and slathered on the vapor rub. He fell asleep almost before I turned on the car, and was pretty cough-free all the way home.

Since then, he's developed a runny nose and a more productive cough. He's teething, too, which makes this whole ordeal SOOOO much better.

And now, my own nose is a little stuffy, runny, and itchy. Last night, I took my last allergy pill and some decongestant, because my head was pounding and I felt allergic to the world. Of course, I'm going to feel wonderful early tomorrow morning when I'm on camera with my runny nose and red eyes. FAN-TASTIC.

I got to go shirt shopping last night ALL BY MYSELF after putting Pie down for bed. I went to Tacoma and visited a K&G for the first time, and was pretty impressed with the prices. However, trying to find solid colors that are not black or red or white in a flattering style is NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE these days, especially in a discount store. However, I found two adorable short-sleeved sweaters that are half-color, half-black, and very flattering as a bonus. Those with a couple other picks should round out my clothing selections for the interview tomorrow.

I skipped all my Silverdale stuff today, partly because Pie is sick and partly because I need the time to get ready for tomorrow – and now partly because I'm feeling a little sick, myself. I need to go get my hair trimmed again, because the style I got it cut in isn't quite working for me – it's a little too long still.

A couple other awesome (</sarcasm>) things to happen recently: Our dryer is dead. It's going to cost AT LEAST $109.00 for a service tech to come out – and that's just the service call, alone. It doesn't include parts, labor, or anything else. I'm debating whether it's worth it to get it fixed, or if I should scrap it and try to get an inexpensive one off Craigslist (when an inexpensive one shows up). I'm not sure it's going to cost any less in the long run, though, to get rid of the dryer we have, borrow someone's car and use the gas to pick up a dryer from somewhere and bring it home, plus cost of the dryer. In the meantime, we can travel back to Bremerton to do laundry at people's houses, or pay for drying at a laundromat. What's a little $150 (at least) in light of that?

Also, the garbage company didn't pick up our garbage or recyclables on Monday morning. I'm SURE I saw trucks, and I'm SURE I heard trucks. Our garbage is NEVER picked up before 10am, and though it wasn't out by 6:30am, it WAS out by 7:30 or 7:45, and it was never picked up. I tried to call last night, but the line was full and Pie was fussing his head off, so I didn't bother. This wouldn't be as big a deal, except that our garbage can is full, and won't be emptied till Monday. Do I take it to the dump? *Sigh*

Okay, Pie is playing in the living room unsupervised, and has a tendency to climb onto the coffee table and stand up, so I'd better go pay attention to him. Laterz!

We left Pie at my parents' house last night when we went to our friends' house to game, and it worked out great for everyone! That is, until we got back to my parents' house, around 12:30am. Pie woke up when we got there, so I fed him (I'd intended to, anyway) and tried to put him back to bed. That lasted all of two minutes maybe. He started coughing, and didn't want to be held, and didn't want to be rocked, and didn't want to be put down . . .

OH MY WORD. We were up till FOUR IN THE MORNING.

As much as I hate getting up at four in the morning, I hate staying up that late, too.

He's in the midst of teething and seasonal allergies. The drool from teething, and the runny nose that usually accompanies have been compounded by irritation from seasonal allergies I'm sure he has, creating a pretty icky cough. He sounded pretty bad last night.

I tried nursing him and holding him while watching TV really low - no dice. I tried running hot water in the bathtub and sitting behind the shower curtain with him, so he could drain a bit and maybe get sleepy - no dice. I tried carrying him around and rocking him - no dice. I tried laying him down and wrapping him up - no dice. I tried laying him down every time he popped up, and even rubbing his head or back to relax him - no dice. I tried laying down next to his Pack 'n' Play so he could see me - no dice. Finally, around 3:45, I moved his Pack 'n' Play into the bathroom, where it was still kind of warm and steamy. I gave him Baby Motrin. I moved the humidifier in there, too, and ran the heating fan. Finally - FIN-AL-LY - around four o'clock, I managed to get him to fall asleep in my arms, and laid him in the Pack 'n' Play. He didn't wake up again, and he didn't cough.

At that point, I considered just staying up for the rest of the night. I was awake enough at first, but when I laid down next to his Pack 'n' Play, I was out in a matter of minutes. I woke again around 5:30, when my dad got up to feed the cat, and was awake for a while, trying to decide whether to get up or not. I went back to sleep, and it seemed only minutes later that Sweetie accidentally startled me awake at 7. I woke up again around 7:15, when Pie finally woke up.

It's now almost 11, and Pie is whining his head off, but NOT taking a nap.

*Sigh* The joys of motherhood. :\

I'm going to try to put him down for another nap, and maybe catch some Z's, myself.

Yeah. Figure the odds of that one . . .

. . . Well, not really. But you might be able to see me on a commercial – or a website!

I was recently contacted by someone asking me if I'd be interested in being contacted regarding a live, recorded interview for Space Bags brand storage bags. It was right out of the blue, but sounded like fun, so I said yes. Then I was contacted by a producer and asked a few questions about my experiences and purchase of the bags, and would I please send in a picture for my profile? Sure! I didn't really have something good, so I sent in the best recent pic of me that I could find, which wasn't great but was still kind of cute and would have to do in a pinch.

I was contacted again shortly thereafter to let me know I had been chosen to do a taped interview in Seattle. He also wanted to know more about the flood in my basement, because it had involved a Space Bag, the contents of which remained unharmed by the water. He also sent me a new Cube-style bag and two "new and improved" Large-style bags. I was to try to come up with a new use for them, and test them out to see what I think. He would be contacting me again shortly regarding my interview time.

He did call me back yesterday to tell me which days were available, and ask me if I had a preferred time. I told him I was flexible, but midday would probably be kind of difficult, as it's Pie's naptime (I get to bring Pie along – he might be in the testimonial, too).

I just got my time slot info – 8:30am next Thursday. Two hours, 8:30 to 10:30. Only issue: What does traffic look like going north on I-5 at 8am??? I have a feeling I'm going to be pulling another freakishly early morning on Thursday, much like the Wednesday before it. Hopefully, I won't look like I've gotten up at 4am once I get on camera. :)

Thankfully, the first hour is kind of a practice and orientation hour, and the second is for the actual taping. The producer said he will personally help with babysitting, and Pie might even get to be in the shoot with me. I will also probably be contacted by the makeup and wardrobe person, as well as the director, for preparatory stuff.

I'm pretty excited by this. :) The early time slot does take the wind out of my sails a bit, but I'll get to go home and sleep, and it should hopefully all be worth it in the end.

Speaking of sleep, I should get some. Tomorrow will be another late night, followed by an early morning. And our dryer just crapped out on us, so I might have to carve out some time to do laundry at someone's house. Hmm . . . doing laundry and carting it home . . . a use for Space Bags? We shall see! ;)

I just committed mass genocide.

I'd just put Pie down for a nap, hoping that he would sleep for at least an hour and a half before we have to leave. Then I went in the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I'd been planning to read in the last little band of sunlight on the living room floor until it was gone.

I went to the sliding glass door in the living room and was looking outside, when I felt a little web by my hand. Above that web was one tiny spider. I'm not sure what made me look up above that spider, but I suddenly noticed another tiny spider. And another. And another. A little to the right, I saw a few more on the ceiling – the popcorn ceiling. The kind of ceiling that easily camouflages a hundred tiny spiders spread out over a many-square-foot area – but I hadn't realized this yet. I'd only seen a few. Maybe the majority of them were still stuck in that little ball they're born in and these were the outliers – the brave scouts.

I left my tea to steep and went to the hall closet to get the vacuum cleaner. There I paused, wondering if I should just wait, since I'd just put Pie down for a nap and the sun wouldn't last long. But, no, where I wanted to sit to read in the sun was directly below those few spiders, and I wouldn't be able to relax knowing there were a bunch of tiny spiders above my head. And, when you're as arachnophobic as I am, it doesn't take much to envision a thousand tiny spiders suddenly descending en masse, or growing faster than the average spider and becoming a thousand full grown spiders taking over the house.

So I pulled out the vacuum and set it up. I tried to get the telescoping hose to extend, but it's still stuck. I don't know how or when it got stuck (in the "unlocked" position, of all things), but it hasn't worked for some time. I realized very quickly that the corner/baseboard attachment was neither long enough or wide enough for sucking up many spiders at one time, so I just used the non-telescoping telescoping tube and stretched as far as I could.

Oh. My. WORD.

I did not realize how many little spiders had been sitting over my head in the room my son and I occupy every flippin' day. And I took a nap under them yesterday. As I vacuumed a little portion of ceiling, and the little buggers fled the sucking tube of doom, and there were more and more and more of them.

EVERY. WHERE.

Thankfully, they were all attached to a big web, so sucking them up wasn't really that hard. However, my overactive imagination conjured up visions of being rained on by hundreds of baby spiders, and I wished with all my might that my arm could be two feet longer.

I found more in the blinds on the window, and more in the vertical blinds on the door. I'd been afraid that they covered the whole ceiling, but it appeared they hadn't quite ventured that far yet. I think I got most of them – one or two is manageable, a hundred is most certainly my living nightmare.

Now, every speck on the floor is suspect, and every tingle makes me twitch. Pie is definitely not asleep, so I think I will flee the house while he's still awake and we have some travel time.

*shudder*

Any future house we buy will not have popcorn ceilings. If they exist, they will be scraped and painted. I know people who know people. (I did hate popcorn ceilings before this incident, but this is BY FAR my best reason for eliminating them from my life.)

GAH. I'm SO grossed out right now. :p

I've felt like sleeping all day. AAAALLLLLL DAAAAAAYYYYY. I probably should have taken a nap. I even went to bed at a decent time last night, and didn't get up early this morning . . . *Sigh* I can't win.

We had Pie's evaluation with the family services person on Monday. It went very well – in fact, he excels in pretty much every developmental category. There's one where he's a little "behind" – but by "behind", I mean he's, like, in the 12-month range, instead of the 14. In one of the categories, he's at 22 months, so I'm really not that worried about that one category he's "behind" in – he's just busy with other developments. :) Have I mentioned he can feed himself with a spoon? He's just a genius. :)

Anyway, because I live in a different county from my hospital, and the referral was to a center within that county, I have to get a referral from my pediatrician to Mary Bridge in Tacoma – IF Tricare will allow it. If not, I'll have to go all the way to Madigan. Not a big deal, since my husband works not far from Madigan, and we can visit. I'll still have to cross the bridge, and it's still closer than the hospital I'm assigned to. The referral process will be interesting, though. Hopefully I won't have to go through Pie's actual provider – I saw a different pediatrician, one who actually had a dialogue with me, rather than commanding according to the book and sending me on my way. Since she was the referring pediatrician, I'm hoping I can continue to work through her.

There's no real concern regarding delays in Pie's development, but they'll do an evaluation at a hospital with a specialist, and maybe we can work out something to help him get over his food issues. The specialist might also determine that there is no problem, and he will just grow out of it. That's okay, too. I do wish he would put solid food in his mouth without gagging on it, but I can't have everything. He feeds himself with a spoon, and it keeps him entertained for a while. Why should I complain? ;)

All righty. I need to go to bed. Have to get up really early – tomorrow's Wednesday.

Night!

My other theme was really cute, but I didn't like the colors that much. This one is PINK! :) And it kind of reflects my state of mind at the moment. It also matches my blog title and subtitle. :)

Pie and I stayed home today, because he's been sneezing and snotty, and I didn't want to get him out of bed early to drag him all over the neighboring county for the day. He's in good spirits – he's just snotty. :) I think it's allergies, because the snot is clear, and he's sneezing more than he is stuffy, and his eyes are watering. I vacuumed (!) yesterday, which probably added to the irritation. Hopefully having cleaned his play area will help the irritation dissipate today.

Slowly – ever sooo sloooooowwllllyyy – the house is getting into shape. By this time next year, I should have a clean, organized dwelling! Just in time to move! :p

I figure I have "short-timer's disease". Kinda like senioritis (in high school). I'm so used to only being in a place for six months to a year (or two years, since that was how long I was in the last place), that I subconsciously see no need to unpack everything, and I just live out of boxes until we finally settle somewhere. Well, I've been waiting to settle for almost nine years now. That's almost nine years of clutter, half-packed boxes, and undecorated walls. I have no sense of cohesiveness in my decor or furniture. I'm conscious of this, but I think part of my brain is just saying, "Wait a little longer! There's no point in fixing it now – you'll just move again, and none of it will fit your new living space."

Ugh. Our lease runs out in August, and even though I'm ready to move into something more permanent and get away from this place's questionable history and tendency to flood in the winter, I kinda want to stay here another six months to a year. Just so I can attempt to get it all cleaned, and really live in it. Maybe even meet my neighbors. Have a block party in the summer. I don't know. I really love the location. There is NO WAY we can possibly buy something here (and we wouldn't purchase this place; I'm not buying a condo), and the rent is currently reasonable. I have a dilemma!

Anyway. Hopefully I can keep up this trend. I'd love to make a workspace upstairs – or even downstairs – so I have space to put my crafts and business items. I've thought about getting a sleeper sofa or futon for the upstairs, so we can have guests over, and they won't have to sit on weird, semi-comfortable chairs or sleep on the floor.

There's a lot of work to do. I should do it, instead of hanging out on the computer. :) Laterz!

Didn't know what to call this post, and don't care that much. I hate sitting here for ten minutes, stuck on a stupid post title, when I could be writing a post! And it doesn't feel right to leave it blank.

I've been reading about writing today. And a little about politics. And I've been playing that blasted "Virus Buster" game on Brain Age 2, so much so that I play it behind my eyelids when I close my eyes. Can't! Stop! Fighting! Viruses! Argh!

So, in honor of virus-busting, here is a post I put up at Smart Girl Politics:

"Offending the Defensive", wherein I make fun of those who take offense at the word "swine" in "swine flu", because their religion forbids pork.

I could make horrible puns about our country and pork, but it appears this virus is not affecting only politicians, so they wouldn't be funny. Alas.

ANYway! It's grey, rainy, and cold today. Blah. Poor Pie is having trouble sleeping, because he is cutting more teeth, so his nap has been off-and-on this afternoon. He finally passed out again, but I might have to wake him up before he sleeps too late. I want him to go to bed on time, because we have an early day tomorrow. It's getting to where I hate Wednesdays. I'm not sure how much longer I can maintain the Wednesday schedule, and I've told my Kiwanis club as much. We'll see if I can last through the rest of the year . . .

Now I'm just rambling. I should put my creativity to good use, and go write something. Something not a blog post. Hasta!

I was just about to dial the Holly Ridge Center, when my phone rang. Seriously – I was picking up the phone to dial. And it was the Holly Ridge Center calling me. How creepy is that? Honestly? :)

Anyway, they were calling to tell me that they received my referral, but since I live in Gig Harbor, they can't service me. They can only service Kitsap County, and since I live in Pierce, I will need to call So-and-So in Tacoma.

All-righty. Well, maybe Tacoma has a feeding team that I can visit. So, I called So-and-So in Tacoma. Turns out that she is a county official who can take the referral requests, but is not actually the interventionist (for lack of the actual term). She took my and my son's information and will turn it over to the interventionist (or the one in charge of the interventionists) tomorrow, when the interventionist is back in the office. After which time the interventionist will call me and set up an appointment to either come here or for me to go there – "whichever's more comfortable for you."

Part of me is thinking that was pretty painless, no problem, this shouldn't be a big deal. But another, more cynical part is thinking, "Oh, great – I think I opened a can of worms!" I was hoping for just a simple, support-group atmosphere, not a full-on special-needs intervention. Hopefully it's nothing more intrusive than an evaluation and suggestions, perhaps a follow-up. My son just doesn't care for solid food. And all he can say, aside from random babble, is "Dada". It's not a big deal unless he's still that way at 15 or 18 months.

I took the lazy route and fed him apple sauce and baby oatmeal this morning, which he devoured because he LOOOOOVES it. Then, to keep the whining down to a minimum, I gave him the empty bowl and spoon and let him play with it. I put about a tablespoon of apple sauce in the bowl so he could practice feeding himself, and he was quiet and entertained himself while I ate breakfast and checked a few websites.

He did eventually get bored with the apple sauce (or was tired of having it all over his face and hands), so I took it and cleaned him up. Then, as an experiment, I gave him a couple rice rusks to see if he'd maybe, possibly bring them to his mouth out of curiosity. I also placed some sweet potato puffs there for variety.

Pie knows glorified packing peanuts when he sees them, apparently, because the puffs were immediately ejected from the tray to the floor. The rice rusks were then crushed into a fine powder by the end of a Crayola Color Wonder marker. He must have liked the crunching sound or the zen of the activity, because he was fully focused on it for some time. Needless to say, I had to sweep again.

Instead of eating solid food, he plays with it. He doesn't walk around putting random objects in his mouth, which is nice, but he doesn't do it with food, either. I've been sneaking blended-up black beans and rice into his peas and carrots to get some protein in him (also peanut butter in his oatmeal). He won't eat the black beans and rice by itself, though, because the tiny chunks of rice make him gag. However, if distributed well enough in something he has no problem with, he'll eat it. Hah!

Hopefully, this early intervention thing doesn't get too out of hand, and it will be merely helpful and not intrusive. I guess I'll find out later!

Anyway, I have more stuff to do before Pie wakes from his nap. Hasta!

I've felt like a mental roller coaster since my last post. Can't be on a spiritual high all the time. Thursday was a definite low. Still working on my mind – it can be a scary place. :\

****

I finally made Pie a 12-month well-baby appointment (at 13 and a half months), and got the doctor I wanted. WHAT A DIFFERENCE! I was able to discuss things with her, instead of being told what to do. She had no issues with his weight, because he is growing with the curve – just under it – and examined him herself. We talked about a few things, and she said that, while it's not a big deal now, not at 13 months, there could be a connection between his distaste for anything more solid than a little piece of banana and his inability to say anything more articulate than "Dada". She presented the idea of maybe going to the local "children with differing abilities" center and visiting with their infant-and-toddler feeding team, where they might be able to help me address some of his oral issues, possibly before they become long-term, and come up with some solutions to help him get over his solid-food aversion.

This sounds more reactionary than it is – but I assure you it really is a good thing. It's a pain in the neck to have to make and transport squishy food-in-a-bowl (because he won't eat chunks – not even scrambled egg or those melt-in-your-mouth snack puff thingies). I'd really rather feed him off my plate, or bring him crackers, or Cheerios. Perhaps the feeding team can help, and perhaps we'll end up chalking it up to a slow-starter. I'm really not worried – he is only 13 months, after all (almost 14!), and I've heard of many children who didn't care much for solid food until they were 15 or so months.

I do want to have Pie weaned by July, though, which might be another thing I can discuss with this doctor or the feeding team. It'll be easier if I know I can leave him with someone without having to buy or prepare special food for him, or pump (I HATE pumping).

Pie got all his shots this time, instead of me taking him in once a week until they were all covered. He's old enough now. He gets his next HiB in eight weeks. I had been deferring that one, thinking it was just a special flu shot, and kind of leery of it, due to recalls and my sister-in-law's conviction that it affected my nephew's health. However, the doctor I saw on Friday said that there were five cases that popped up somewhere in the midwest, and it's a meningitis – not just a flu. OH. Okay. I had them give him the shot. He cried for the first time ever while getting shots, and it was very sad. :( But we endured. I nursed him while we waited to make sure he wasn't having any reactions, and he was happy again.

He also got blood drawn from his finger (before his other shots), to test his hemoglobin. He was remarkably well-behaved through it. He got a little squirmy toward the end, but he didn't cry. To stop the blood flow on a tiny finger, they have to cover it in gauze and wrap the whole hand in that stretchy sticky wrap stuff. He had a little flipper for a while, which kind of cracked me up. (I've never seen Brain Candy, but there's a quote about "flipper babies" that we throw around now and again, so I took a picture of Pie with my phone and messaged my husband, subject line "Flipper Baby!" I'm a bad mother. ;))

When we got home, I gave him some Baby Motrin and put him down for a nap. Later that night, after Sweetie got home, we were all sitting in the living room, and Pie tripped over my foot and fell face-first against a table leg, resulting in a HUGE goose-egg right between his eyes. I felt HOOORRRRRIBLE. Poor baby! :( He cried for a while, but then didn't seem to notice it anymore. I called a friend from church who works in a pediatric office (ours was closed by then), and she gave me some tips. He still has a purple line between his eyes, but the lump has gone down substantially. I'm expecting his forehead to turn green any day now while that bruise heals. Ugh. I would almost rather a real bruise show up than that purple line and a colorless lump. Freaked. Me. Out. *shudder*

Okay, I told myself I'd get something done this evening before turning in, so I'd better get on it. Sweetie is off doing some website thing for the church, and I've put Pie to bed. I should . . . organize something, instead of wasting time again.

Just another part of my mental problem. *Sigh* I WILL overcome this!!!

Bye!