december2002

diary of a mad handyma'am



jump toentry date

1  2  3  4  5  6 7  8  9  10  11 12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31



 


 
 

 


December 5, 2002

No..... I didn't get all jacked up on wine over the Thanksgiving holiday. I did, however, achieve a warm slightly fuzzy feeling. And..... everything was OK with M's asthma during our stay. Despite the crabby, three legged cat making a couple of surprise appearances with it's hissing, teeth baring face - we all had a wonderful holiday. That is, failing to mention the ultra soft bed we slept in. The one that made you feel like you were lying in a hammock covered with something squishy. It was downright weird.

.

.

Back to our respective beds and onward...

.

.

Thankfully, I do NOT see the world in black & white:
Last evening M took the boys to get haircuts. They chose the new styles and WOW. I swear the only thing missing from the picture at the dinner table last night was June Cleaver. It was so eerie that I swear I was having a flashback and felt exceedingly high. So damn high I had to promptly sit down. It gave me a head rush.

They look like they are straight out of the 1950's. I half expected them to say, "swell" and "golly gee." Yes.... I was THAT taken aback. Who are these children and what happened to my boys? LOL. And, although they may appear to be an unreasonable facsimile.... the new do's will allow them to NOT worry about combing their hair. A definite plus for them. Especially since they are wearing winter hats with astonishing regularity. They now have hair that could be washed with a washcloth and looks the same whether it's wet or dry, and, they are quite content with it. I'll get over the fact they now appear to be miniature soldiers. And, I'll do my best to refrain from playing taps at bedtime and/or digging foxholes in the backyard.

.

.

Of mice and men:
Scientists are busy decoding the genetic code of mice and have found startling genetic similarity in the draft code of the mouse as compared to man. Although they are 95% complete in the decoding process, so far there are only 300 genes separating mouse and man. Obviously, one of our genes is responsible for the invention and purchase of d-con and one of theirs is responsible for frequent mating characteristics and high fertility rates. The discovery of the proliferation and eradication gene sequencing has yet to be announced.

.

.

Naked trees:
All the deciduous tree have thrown away their leaves. Perhaps that why they are called leaves. After all, that's what they were born to do. And leaf and leave they did. Mission accomplished until next season, when I jump for joy at the first notice of bud-like happenings. When I sing the praises of another winter gone and invoke the joy of the mud goddess we call spring. Soon after I quickly progress through budding happiness and begin to whine about the arrival of summer. I want it and I want it now. And when it gets here, it's too fucking humid. Lather, rinse and repeat. I figure there are, at least, 10 full days out of every year that I thoroughly enjoy. It's unfortunate I can't plan for them. The climate is too unpredictable. And, I have a job.

.

.

Xterra:
I want one. Help! The thoughts won't stop! It's keeping me awake at night. Arrrrrggggghhhhh!!!!! Put a hex on me, eh? Make it stop. Please make it stop. At least put it off until I've saved more money.

.

.

Jeep Wrangler:
Bouncy and sometimes jarring fun if you have no aches and pains, underlying medical conditions or, a cup of hot coffee. I'm convinced you could never have a Jeep Wrangler and get narcoleptic while driving. Wait until the ride comes to a complete stop before you exit the vehicle. Nothing like a cheap carnival thrill in the winter cold.

.

.

M calls me at work:
How did I make the chicken the other day? Well..... olive oil, garlic powder, oregano and Red Hot sauce. Alrighty then. That's what she'll make. I get home and in less than 45 minutes, dinner is ready. The first thing I notice is Michael's contorted face. This is HOT, he says. Wahhhhhhhh..... you wimp! It's starter sauce. It's red hot. Then, I notice Kyle's ears turning red. AHA! And then M admits, "no.... I used that," as she points to the bottle in front of me. LOL. It's habernero sauce! OHMYGOD! I would have never used that. Not on them anyway. I am a frequent hot flyer and can handle it, but.... DAMN!

.

.

M's asthma:
I've been telling her that she should become a frequent hot sauce user. Why? Because the stuff opens up your airways and cleans out your sinuses! Today, she proudly finished her habernero doused chicken. Now she says her lips feel swollen. Hmmmmm. I dunno. Maybe she didn't have enough. It doesn't look like she had lip augmentation. I still recognize her.

.

.

OK.... and now I'm off. Until next time....

....later!

 


December 6, 2002

Another Friday! My favorite day of the work week. The day where I always envision sleeping in on the weekend. Sad but true. Fact is, I almost never do. Hell.... even you probably know that by now.

BUT.... there is rarely a day during the week that I don't force myself to get out of bed when the alarm goes off. First, the TV comes on. Why? Because it's set like an alarm so that we awaken to the morning news channel. Generally speaking, we wake up to the bad news of the day. And if by chance THAT doesn't wake up - then the annoying loud alarm pops off. About 8 minutes after the TV comes on. On rare ocassions, I turn it off because I'm wide awake. Or, have anticipatory annoyance with the mere thought of that sound it will soon emit. One day, I might wake up on the wrong side of the bed and throw it across the room. I hope not. Its weight is like a brick and it could definitely inflict construction repairing damage. You see, I like the way the clock looks. Just not the way it sounds. Aesthetics and auditory conflict. Someone could write a thesis on that.

YES.... I'd truly like to sleep in. But, the boys get up incredibly early on the weekends. We have to tell them not to come downstairs until 7 or 8. Or, to watch a movie from the confines of their bed in the morning. Otherwise they are up and good to go like it was a school day. Actually, better than a school day. Even when they stay up later than usual.

My brother and his two kids will be over this weekend. My niece will be taking driver's training next year and I decided to give her my old truck.

One condition attached: that we turn it into an art project.

She's geeked. I'm geeked, too. Why? Because I have only threatened in my mind to do this to the old truck for a few years now. I feel a joy surge contemplating this bold maneuver. Yeah baby! So.... I'll be talking about this with her over the weekend. Exchange visionary statements. And, of course, laugh a lot. She absolutely, positively is the most anti-Barbie person I know.... and I'm seeing Barbie as the hood mascot. LOL.

Truthfully, I'm wondering if she wants something so bold and/or garish that would draw a ton of attention to it. I'm thinking she wouldn't. Right now, without prior consultation, I'm imagining we could sand it down and affix a variety of 3-d items to it and paint it with matte black primer - affixed items and all. Including, of course, Barbie herself. That way the truck wouldn't be screaming LOOK AT ME at people from across the street, and, repairs would be easy enough for her to maintain.

Wahoooooooo! Another project! My favorite type. The diversionary attack has struck again. Only this one will be a group effort.

.

.

.

Anybody know where I can get construction adhesive and black primer in bulk?

 

;^)

 


December 7, 2002

I always wanted to build a gingerbread house. And so I did.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

The picture says it all.... I have nothing more to say about this.



December 21, 2002

Damn. Just when I was cracking along with journal entries earlier on in the month, I stand accused of slacking again. So be it. Guilty once more.

This slacking has nothing to do with posting the above disturbing picture of the "house of crazy babies" gingerbread house. Furthermore, to address those concerned.... NO.... I have not completely flipped my gourd. In fact, I've always been like this.

Sometimes even worse. So there.

We've been busy around here gearing up for the holidays. Isn't most everyone? Hard to believe but.... we actually have plenty of decorations around. More than I've ever seen at this house. Fortunately, there are enough visual cues around to assert the fact that I am in the right place. The decorations haven't obliterated everything. Hmmmmmm..... maybe next year.

The kids are as excited as can be about Christmas. Michael is a true believer in Santa Claus and Kyle is a vacillator. Although, Kyle wrote out a list of Christmas desires to Santa and placed it next to Michael's list under the tree. This is his insurance in the event Santa Claus is real. Ya don't want to miss out on a present. Just in case.

Last weekend, in the evening, we drove to a nearby touristy town and ooooh'd and ahhhh'd over their display of Christmas lights. No doubt it costs a small fortune to light up these huge commercial displays. The kids were enthralled with the festivity of it all. I don't think they even heard me telling them that there were monkeys riding bicycles under the city generating electricity for their visual benefit. If they had, I might have elaborated. They were too busy taking it all in. Eyes as big as saucers.

My family is gathering over here tonight. We're having a pre-birthday celebration for me because my birthday is on Christmas. My Mom always felt like I missed out somehow for having a birthday on that day. I never felt that way. Despite having nothing to compare it to. Sooooooooo.... tonight we'll be partying with the family. Should be fun!

The boys have been looking forward to the party. More so than either of us. For M and I it's a LOT of work. Although, it's been M that's been doing most of the work getting everything ready. She's like that. And you'd better get out of her damn way.

My sista's two youngest kids are spending the night tonight. The boys are WAY excited about that. My sis never told the kids until today because, well.... she has to live with them. And, they'd be driving her nuts and not be able to sleep. How many more hours? Can't we leave early?

I threatened to call and inform them, but..... like a good sister, I didn't. But like me, I threatened to.

Tonight I will subject the guests to some retro dance music. With a few others thrown in for good measure. I told Michael that if he dances alone to one song when everyone is here, I'll give him five bucks. He says he'll do it. We'll see if the little madman takes center stage. He just might. But, Kyle.... no way. He'd be too embarrassed to do it. And while they think nothing of dancing their little asses off when we are here alone, it's an entirely different story when other people are around. I might be able to keep all of my money.

Two weeks off work for M and I. Two weeks where we can sleep in. Well, we might be able to. No doubt it'll be tough going back to work after that, but.... in the meantime, we have plenty of holiday festivities to attend to. Somewhere in there, the kids want to go see the new Harry Potter movie. No doubt we'll have to do that. We don't want to hear them harping for the next 2 weeks. Whining children are no fun.

Hopefully, next year.... I'll catch up on my writing. Not that I can actually catch up, but, that I'll be a bit more dedicated about it in the future.

Hope ya'll have Happy Holidays and make lots of wonderful memories to take with you long after they have passed. In my estimation..... that's really what it's all about.

.

.

.

.

.

>> yet the other part of me wants to say, Happy Holidays..... we are headed for war <<

.

.

.

DAMN! that makes me feel sad.

 


December 26, 2002

Christmas was great. Great in a couple of ways. Great to be hanging out with cool people ya love and.... a great, GREAT big pile of trash for the day after.

We've contributed heavily to the solid waste problem in the States. The environmentalist in me says we should be fined for conspicuous consumption of market goods. A fine on the hefty side would be in order.

Then, we'd do what polluting factories do. You know, what they do by controlled release. The EPA tells them parts per million standards of polluting substances.... and, if they get a stockpile, then.... you just let out the allowable maximum. I might have felt better if we would have done that. Release the trash slowly in measured portions. Why, I don't know. After all, the end results are the same. It's all out there.

Those plastic bubble packaging things will outlive the children. When I actually stop and think about the trash I alone have generated - it's crazy. Yet, think about it. Each of us living within so called "modern society" has generated huge amounts of trash over our lifetimes. How would you like to have to bury that in your yard? If we did, we'd have a ski hill sitting out back. OK. Maybe a bunny hill, but really. Bunny hills are the foundation of mountains. We'd have mountain potential.

OK. So.... we had too much stuff. Waaaaaaaaaaay too much.

> plus, I spent a great deal of time in getting to this very point <

No kidding though. The kids had about 50 presents each. Oh, M would probably say 35, but.... you know what I mean. Too much shit. No matter HOW you look at it.

Now I have this vision of horror. It's keeping me awake.

Scene: the new addtion. I'm in the basement. Alone. There are tools and sawdust all around me. I'm building every kind of shelf unit imaginable. I'll spend the rest of my waking days perfecting the art of storage. So much for a minimalist lifestyle.

Forget that. It ain't gonna happen.

.

.

.

> and then you get up and make a drink <

Next:

For my take in the blazing array of presents, add to the pile of worldly goods:

My very own nunzilla .

Not one but TWO sets of Billy Bob Teeth.

A Thrasher Yo-Yo with real shark teeth .

keep in mind: that was only PART of what was in my stocking.

Other stuff:
A down jacket, a solar powered kinetic sculpture, a poetry stone kit, a splash-proof handheld color TV, a police scanner, sweatshirts, winter boots, and.... more drill accessories than I'll ever need. Among other stuff.

Sheesh, eh? And that was only ME!

As this year comes to a close, we say that we aren't going to do this next year. And we even talked about how the real meaning of Christmas is lost on gifts. Of course, we also felt guilty for several minutes. Shameful for being such brazen shoppers. We were in touch with our essence and attained full consciousness of our glut. We imagined our shopping impulses flowing out the window.

Here we are.... and we are off into the New Year with promises to change.

.

.

.

.

awwwwww

.

.

Shut up.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It could happen.

 



 
 



home. . . . . . . . . . . .e-mail. . . . . . . . . . . . next


copyright 1998 - infinity diary of a mad handyma'am an anonymous cyberspace diary & property of the mad handyma'am