Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Smooth Operator.

Smooth Operator
Originally uploaded by carmizzle
We went to see the White Stripes last night at Sloss Furnace. I have to say that I'm slightly disappointed, not at all by their performance but by the venue and the conditions and the results.

It was sold out, so I knew that it would be hot and crowded. I didn't know that I would never actually lay eyes on Meg and Jack because I'm too much of a pansy to fight through hundreds of people to the front of the stage, that I would be glad that I'm too much of a pansy because Jason made it up there and said that people were passing out all around him from the heat. He wore a LONG-SLEEVED BUTTON-DOWN shirt OVER a t-shirt and survived up there, while I sat in the very, very back wearing a short-sleeved cotton shirt and a very short mini-skirt and sweated my ass off.

One would think that, even from the very back, one could at least catch glimpses of Jack and Meg's tiny, far-away selves, wouldn't one? But one could not. All this one could see was the backs of peoples headses, rude people who slosh beer all over one and burn one with cigarettes and step on one's feet and bump one repeatedly with their elbows and whatnot. The One I'm now referring to is Lindsey, who nearly got into a fight on more than one occasion, who told me her pin number so that I could get bail money out of her checking account if needed.

We all made it out unscathed, and I'm glad that I at least got to HEAR the White Stripes play live, even if I didn't see them. We went to Bottletree after where Lindsey watched Jason and me get totally blind, running drunk. But I was slurring after the first 16 ounce Miller Light I partook of at the show. I was all, "I need another Millerler Light, please." Lindsey replied, "Good job, mom."

Sunday, July 29, 2007

It's probably good for Dudley; I bet he gets bored.

Right now, right now as I'm writing this, there are two children screaming over our fence in the back yard, baa-ing at the tops of their lungs at our goat.

It scared the shit out of me at first because I thought, "I hear the baa, but THAT is not my goat." At first it made me afraid that Dudley is sick or something's wrong with him because it sounded so off. My next thought was, "Holy moly, is there another one out there?" I kept thinking, where the FUCK did another goat come from? And how did he get inside the fence? I was picturing Dudley having taught himself how to open and close the gate by the time I peered out into the back yard. At first all I noticed was Dudley standing perfectly still, like STILL, staring at the very back corner of the yard. Finally I followed his gaze until I saw the little heathens hanging over the fence. They were franctically and enthusiastically baa-ing, and I have to say that they sounded pretty authentic.

But any good mother knows the sound of her own goat, and they weren't good enough to sound like my goat.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


Originally uploaded by buffpuff
On Saturday, Reed peed in the potty for the very first time.

On Sunday, he got his first kiss that wasn't from a girl he's related to.

It's been a big couple of days.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Have you seen this? It's hilarious. And such a good idea. Look out, any of you people I know who might go out of town!


Friday, July 20, 2007

Here's a few things.

So the work thing has calmed down for the moment. Nothing ever really came of my long letter; I suspect that my boss has managed some sort of temporary iron-out for the problem, and it may or may not rear its ugly head again. We'll see.

Jason and I have a gig photographing a wedding in October, and I'm really excited about it. We've never photographed a wedding before, so it'll be a learning experience. Don't worry; the happy couple knows that we're just getting started. They're having a small, intimate affair and they feel confident that we'll be able to handle it. And, actually, so do I.

Something that I've learned over the past couple of years is that it actually takes a lot more energy, thoughtfulness and will power to be nice and to think about other people's feelings and to always try to do the right thing than it does to spout off your opinion all the time. And the phrase "the right thing" can be a tricky one, too. People often think they're being helpful in some way by pointing out other people's problems or weaknesses, but more often than not I think it's just a selfish kind of righteousness that makes a person want to call other people out. I'm following in the footsteps of someone I respect in ways I can't describe when I say that I have been and am still just trying to be a good person- at home, at work, IN THE DAMN CAR, and wherever else I can be.

Monday, July 16, 2007


Originally uploaded by Buford Union Davis
So I'm going to get my drivers' license renewed tomorrow.

I've settled on the face I'm going to make for the photo.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Oh, man. Two frozen margaritas at lunch time will really set the tone for the day. And by "tone" I mean bed, the bed I'm climbing into mid-afternoon for a snooze. Except I can't actually take a nap; it's too late for that. I could have if I had gotten into bed earlier, but I've spent too much time on the internet. Damn!

Have you ever really needed to make your own penis pinata, but not had the know-how? Look no further.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

If it's on the internet, that means it's true, right?

The internet is the BEST.

I just finished reading a long, fairly detailed article on AOL about a monster roaming the Amazon jungle, and this was among the comments that followed:

hey rod we can go almost deep in the ocean and the ladys man ( heheh big foot) none sees them but we can land on the moon that was fake too


I do like this guy, though. This cracks me up:

I've began singing a song already, for whenever I see deh badie putting it's feets in her badie mouf. The song is called "Badie Feets Go In Deh Badie Mouf," it's sung to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon," a more sped up version with a Caribbean accent, and I'll have to learn how to play the steel drums.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007


Originally uploaded by buffpuff
So there went the majority of the day at the emergency room.

Reed went to his doctor yesterday, YESTERDAY, for a well check-up. Jason said when the the doctor listened to his chest he said, "Yeah, his cough sounds wet, but there's nothing in his chest, so it must be mucus in his throat." He also got two immunizations, and that was it.

Last night he was up half the night, and I figured he was feverish and uncomfortable because of the shots. This morning I noticed that he was really having trouble breathing. He was breathing really hard, heaving almost, and his abdomen was jerking in and out like it was really hard. I called the nurse and told her, and she said, "Yeah, I think you need to bring him on in. Don't worry about what you look like; just bring him." She called back about a minute later and said the doctor heard the whole conversation and said that we needed to take him to the emergency room instead of his office.

So to the emergency room we went. After some acetominophen and three half-hour albuterol breathing treatments, we're home with a sick, sleepy baby. They said he's got a viral infection in his lungs, and they almost made us stay in the hospital overnight- something about his blood-oxygen level being low, and if it didn't get over a certain number after three treatments, he had to stay. Luckily the third time did it.

And let me tell you, holding a mask that shoots mist and makes a loud hissing noise over the face of a toddler is not as much fun as it sounds like. For thirty to forty five minutes. Three times.

And really, I know that he very well may have gotten sick over night and there just wasn't anything for his doctor to find yesterday. It's just the shittiness of it- that he was at the doctor just about sixteen hours earlier, and then it had to get all scary and hectic on us. It just sucks.

Also, right when we were about to get out the door, Reed threw up all over my mom and the living room floor. If only I could train him to do that on command. Then I could just pass him around to people I didn't like very much, and say the signal word- "Hot damn!" or "Shabamalama!" or whatever.

That would be nice.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Eating a tomato.

Eating a tomato.
Originally uploaded by buffpuff
Today, Reed pulled his vintage sewing box up to the cabinets in the kitchen, stood on it and grabbed a tomato off of the countertop. As he trotted back to the television for more Sesame Street, or Street Street, he happily told me, "Peach!" Jason and I simultaneously said, "No, buddy, that's not a peach." Before we could do anything about, he started taking ravenous bites. He looked at us and said, "Mm, mm, goot!" We laughed and said, "Reedy, that's a tomato." He replied, "Mm, tuhtuhduhduh!"


Saturday, July 07, 2007

I need a muscle relaxer that relaxes that brain muscle.

Today was an exhausting day. I'm pretty sure that this whole "not blogging about work" thing is going to make my head burst off the top of my body. Since I don't want that to happen, I'm pretty sure that I'll be blogging about work pretty soon. I intended to do it tonight, but I'm just so damn tired, and it's a big, long, specific problem I'm having at work that I'd like to write about, so I think I'll write about it tomorrow or Monday.

Suffice it to say that today I walked out of work after being berated on the phone for twenty minutes straight by a grown woman, and I went and sat in my car and hyperventilated for another twenty minutes. I really really REALLY almost just drove off. Then I thought I would go in and write a long letter, and then leave. I spent an hour writing a five page letter, but I was calm by the time I finished so I stuck around for the rest of the day. I left the letter on my boss' desk, and she's returning from a trip Monday morning, so I figure we'll have a long talk then.

We shall see how this turns out. I'm either going to quit, or get fired, or something else will happen. I'm not being secretive; I'm just not sure what the third option is. But I'm sure there is one.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Where do we go, now?

The Nashville Possibility, as I call it, is a lot closer than I thought. I figured we'd ponder it for about a year, and then move if we decided that's what we wanted to do. But apparently Jason's work would want him there by November 1 of this year, which is about FOUR MONTHS AWAY. So, yeah. Decision time. We spent some time on the internet looking at houses for sale in places like Antioch, Nolensville, Franklin, and Brentwood, or A Whole Bunch of Places I've Never Heard Of and Certainly Never Been To So How Can We Choose A House There? I mean, of course we'll visit and stay with Jason's mom, who lives in Hendersonville, to check out the city and the traffic and the stores and the mood, but still.

IT'S WEIRD. I've never lived anywhere besides Leeds and Birmingham, except for a sixth month stint in Montevallo which I now refer to as That Time I Was Stupid And It Cost A Lot Of Money, which is also another term for Every Day At The Agan House.

I digress.

Anyways, they haven't made Jason an official offer yet, but that really just means we don't know yet what position they want him to fill, or how much they'll pay him. He's had several higher-ups come up to him and start talking about Nashville, and then say, "You're going, right?"

FREAKIN' SCARY. It just is. But I feel compelled to push myself to do it, because really good opportunities like this one don't come around very often; this is the first time in my lifetime that I've had a real, viable chance to securely move away from here. So, it's onward and upward. More soon on This Thing That Might Be Good But Still Kind Of Makes Me Feel Like I Have To Poo.

Every one else is doing it; why can't we?

Yes, yes, yes.

So many gadgets, so little time. No, wait; MONEY. So little money.


Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Antibiotics, decongestant, cough syrup, hyrdracortisone cream, mustard, and beech.

So Reed has the hand, foot, and mouth disease, and I have bronchitis. We are some sickly people, I have to tell you. I'm not even sure where the bronchitis came from, but I assume Reed's affliction came from the daycare. He has bumps all over his feet, legs, and hands, and some in his mouth like ulcers. The ones in his mouth hurt; he keeps crying and pointing at his mouth and saying, "Teeth!" We thought it was teething at first, but nope, it's a contagious disease. Jason noticed that he has some bumps on his feet and legs, so we're thinking he has it too. I'm just totally wiped out, and I can't breathe through my mouth or my nose, so I'm a tad bit whiny and ill-tempered.

The mustard essence that I've been using appears to work. All I know is that I added drops of it to my water all last week, and I didn't feel gloomy at all. On Saturday I decided not to use it because I was thinking maybe you're only supposed to use it WHILE you're gloomy. By Saturday evening I was totally heartbroken and weepy. I'm thoroughly aware that it would be coincidental or psychosematic, but really, who cares? I went back to the daily mustard, and Jason bought me some beech essence which is supposed to ease the intolerance one experiences during pms. But I've been thinking that I might use it all the time, not just during pms, because I'm pretty intolerant these days.

Reed is counting now, and it's very much like having a small, smart-assed French guy in the back seat of the car. "Uuuuuuu-EH! Doooooooo-EH! Reeeeeee-EH! Vooooooo-EH! Feeeeee-EH!" And after counting, or at the end of a song, or after he gives me a kiss, he congratulates himself with a very emphatic "YAAAAAAAAY!" while clapping his hands. We should all congratulate ourselves that often; life might be a lot more satisfying if we could say "YAAAAAAAY" and clap for ourselves after every task we accomplished.