Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Well, here we are, home from the emergency room.

Oh yes, that's what I said.

Reed fell off my lap and hit his eye on the coffee table, resulting in a bloody shiner that rivals any drunken bar injury I've ever seen.

Now he's officially an Agan. And Irish.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Fishes DO need bicycles.

Lordy mercy, the more I read on this blog the more I keep nodding my head, saying to the empty room "I know, right?!?". I mean it is eery.

On Tuesday, I was still having a hard time with basic life functions, like say, eating. I showed up to that interview having ingested nothing but dark chocolate M&Ms and Diet Pepsi for two full days. Jittery and constantly on the verge of tears. I was still crying when I fell asleep and crying when I woke up, and crying at many inconvenient intervals between. Like at intersections if the light took too long to change, while pumping gas at the Shell station, or in line at the bank. In New York, no one would have noticed. Here, they ask if I'm okay. "Allergies," I say. Because everyone here has allergies.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the kind, healing words you've left here. I appreciate them, but to tell you the truth, I am not at all surprised by them. Because I know that there are good, caring people out there - people who experience life in the same kaleidescope of emotions, who love and hurt and trust and mourn as I do. It's why I continue to blog; I love sharing what makes us human.

Three years ago, I was embroiled in a horribly dysfunctional relationship with a person whose behavior could, at best, be described as amoral, and at worst, just a hair shy of deliberately cruel. And because at the time, I was too busy hating myself for not having enough of a backbone, I didn't deal with things. Not really. One day, almost two years later, I woke up and realized I was mad. Really, bone-deep angry. And it was like poison. In the time that it took me to understand and process that nasty toxic hate (and it was months), not a single one of my friends uttered anything even remotely so calloused as, "get the hell over it." I am thankful every single day that they chose me, as I chose them.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

On Marting Luther King, Jr., and the Civil Rights Movement.

I don't believe Dr. King, if he were here today, would say that police dogs and fire hoses are what he remembers of Birmingham in the 50s and 60s. I think he would say he remembers the brave people who shouted for freedom and demanded justice in the face of white-sheeted threats from cowardly terrorists, the heart-breaking heresy of burning crosses, and the danger of shotgun blasts in the night. I think Dr. King might consider Birmingham almost a mecca of the Civil Rights movement--a place where Freedom, once awakened, would never lapse back into its coma.

- From my aunt Susie's blog.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Some Reedy thingies.

- Right now, one of Reed's favorite things to watch is Hee Haw. My mom has the complete Hee Haw on dvd, and he watches is obsessively when he's at her house. And I mean that he sits right in front of the television and doesn't move, except to sway back and forth to the music.

- Right now, Reed understands pretty much everything we tell him. We talk in complete sentences, and he responds in mostly complete sentences. He lets us teach him how to do things, and he sometimes sits and listens calmly when we explain why he can't do certain things.

- Right now, Reed is somewhat obsessed with birthdays. Like, every day is someone's birthday, mine or daddy's or his own. Yesterday my mom invited Reed over to spend the night, and Reed and I were sitting on the futon talking about it. I said, "Do you want to sleep here or at ma's?" "I sleep at ma's." "Okay, you want to go to ma's to spend the night?" "Yep. HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAAY!"

- Right now, Reed also loves to watch Finding Nemo, Wiggles, and Yo Gabba Gabba. Yo Gabba Gabba is the children's show I would have made if I had made a children's show. Sadly, Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo beat me to it.

Saturday, January 19, 2008


Originally uploaded by buffpuff
So it snowed- but just a little bit. Most of the snow has melted now. I think it's supposed to get pretty cold, but the snow has passed.

Friday, January 18, 2008

I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. And ineligible.

So the weather dudes around here are all talking about snow, and what's more they're talking about five inches of it. We very rarely get snow here in Alabama, and when we do it's usually just a tiny flurry that follows four or five days of intense bread- and milk-buying as well as urgings to stock up on batteries and blankets.

People freak out about snow here, and it usually never happens anyways. This morning I was telling a coworker who has only lived here for a couple of months how it almost never happens, how everyone gets very worked up and nearly panicked about it, and then it will suddenly be 75 degrees outside, when another coworker who has lived here all her life chimed in with, "Actually, Buffy, this time they're saying it's real and serious." And I'm thinking, "Oh, THIS time it's real, unlike all those other times it's been real and serious but NOTHING HAPPENS." I'm sure that now that I've thought this we'll have some sort of blizzard, a SNOWSTORM rivaling the great snowstorm of '93 (or was it '94?) when we were stuck at home for a few days with no power, unable to travel because of all the ice and snow, when we could make actual snowmen and snowballs and wear heavy coats and scarves and gloves and hats without breaking a sweat.

But probably not.

In other news instead of getting a new job from the place I had started the interview process with, I got a packet containing my credit report and a letter stating that I wasn't eligible to apply with them at this time because of it. Upon reading the letter I had immediate and intense feelings of nausea and panic, much like the way Alabamians react when they hear the word "snow". So now I have to write them a letter about all the inaccuracies in the the report (there were several) and the extenuating circumstances (there are several) and see if I can still pursue the job.

I find it to be heartwarming that I'm too poor to pay my debts, and as a direct result I can't apply for the jobs that would enable me to pay my debts. It's all just so very American.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Early morning kid.

Early morning kid.
Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor
Raising this kid has been 50% absolutely excrutiating, 50% wonderful heartwarming loveliness for the past week or so. He'll be so crazy, so over-the-top angry and uncontrollable until I think that God has finally decided how I'm going to die- by listening to the screeching of a toddler- and then he'll suddenly be listening to every single thing I'm saying, singing songs, kissing me, having conversations with me.

It's enough to drive a sane person crazy. It's a good thing I wasn't sane to begin with.

I've got items for sale on Etsy. There's a little badge down there to the left.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Some stuff and things.

I have to say this to jerkface: thank you for letting me know that I might not be so crazy after all! Apparently "word God is bad math". I would have never known.

I usually don't like to see stuff on other people's blogs and repost it; it just feels like cheating some how. Apparently "there is no cheating in art", according to one infinitely smarter than me in these matters. So in that spirit, here is something that cracked me up and completely disturbed me simultaeously, snagged from dooce.

I've opened my own etsy store! Yes, there is absolutely nothing on it. Hopefully that will have changed by the end of the day tomorrow. Lindsey, want to help me make a banner?

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Part Three.

Here's part one, and here's part two.

Age Eleven: My mom and I drive from Leeds to Santa Fe, New Mexico; it's a two-and-a-half day drive. At one point I'm eating sugar buttons in the back seat and singing Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall, and I get to -47. My mother must be made out of Prozac and kitten fur to have enjoyed this trip.

Age Twelve: I have left the Leeds school system and am attending my second year at a school where the majority is upper-middle class. They wear really nice clothes and carry expensive purses and wear expensive make-up. The only person I really like there is my biology teacher who is Cajun and tells us stories about being in Vietnam and having to drink her own urine to survive.

Age Thirteen: I go back to Leeds and realize that I don't fit in there either as I spent the first two formative years of middle school at a different school. This forever marks me as weird and different in the eyes of the popular crowd at Leeds. I have my first real boyfriend, the only redhead I ever go out with until I marry Jason.

Age Fourteen: I once again leave the Leeds school system to go to Shades Valley RLC. They stress maturity and responsibility by not taking or requiring attendence in any of their classes. I flunk out in February.

Age Fifteen: I date boys. The main one is seventeen and has had sex before and says that something must be wrong with me because I want to wait to have sex. One of my best friends tells me that she feels sorry for him because I won't have sex with him. Consequently, I give in and do it. It hurts and I don't enjoy it, but I am ecstatic to have gotten it over with so maybe we can talk about something else for a while.

The idea to write this came from this post in this blog.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Time, time, time- see what's become of me?

Well then, back to reality, right?

I'm starting my interview process tomorrow for a new job. Tonight I'm sacrificing a young female virgin to the gods in accordance with the ancient rules so that I may get this new job. Or perhaps I'll just cross my fingers. Either way.

Reed and I are still in the process of getting well. I tell you, I've been saying b's for m's for a couple of weeks at this point. After a while it ceases to amuse me.

Tonight, I light a few candles and drink a beer and visualize the days when I didn't worry day in and day out about money and bills and survival. I'm trying to will that time back into existence. It's either that or set the house on fire when no one's in it and blame it on my straightening iron.

Whatever works, eh?

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Here's to a new year.

Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor
We definitely had a good time on New Year's Eve- we talked, made stuff, drank champagne out of paper cups, and made good use of the timer on our camera.

The next day, Reed and I both fell ill with what can only be described as "worse than the end of your life because it keeps on going". The coughing, the snotting, the sneezing and flying snot, the sore throat, fever- in other words, the works. Jason has spent this entire week wrangling an angry toddler, and I've spent most of it that way. The time I haven't been wrangling a toddler I've spent in bed shivering and cursing the gods, shaking my fist at the sky and feeling very sorry for myself.

Finally last night Jason and I met the limits of our parenthood, and around 9:30 we put Reed in his crib and said "GOODNIGHT." He cried and screamed off an on until around 2:00, when he fell asleep and slept until 9:00 this morning. It was good.

Today I think we both feel much better, with just a bit of snot hanging around for good measure. Jason is in Tijuana, and now goes by the name Cymbilugia.

If I find him I'll let you know.