Man, oh man, the more things change, the more they stay the same. And it's always darkest before the dawn. And just when you think things can't get any weirder, they do. And some other random, cliche words and phrases and people say.

A lot of things are coming, like Jason's birthday, Thanksgiving, bridal portraits, Reed's birthday, a couple of weddings, and Christmas. This time of year is both fun and incredibly stressful, and lately I'm focusing more on the stress than the fun, unfortunately.

But, as they say, this too shall pass.

Fuck.

"You look like a doily."

This week has been nutty.

We took Reed to the doctor on Wednesday; turns out he has the flu AND strep throat. Luckily he's on the mend now, and it's even possible that no one else in the house managed to catch any of his plague.

I went to meet a friend for a drink at Bottletree last night, and happened to see Those Darlins, and MAN, they are really good. So, so good. And Nikki Darlin gave me a free sticker! You can't beat that with a stick.

Tonight I am meeting my lawyer for a much-needed margarita. By "my lawyer", I mean Kristi. And by "much-needed", I mean FOR DAMN SURE, I NEED IT. I spend several days this week thinking maybe I was getting sick with whatever Reed has, but it never progressed, never turned into fever, body aches, total grossness. Finally I realized that I'm in some kind of slump. I hesitate to just say, "Okay, I'm depressed", because somehow this is different. I think it's probably a combination of moving, learning to live with my mom and my sister again, being unemployed and attempting to job search when I see listings for secretarial work that say "Must have ten years secretarial experience", and the time change that means it's dark by 5 every day.

Nevertheless, I have stumbled upon a few neat opportunities with writing and photography, and I'm hoping they pan out. Also I'm showing my jewelry at the Bottletree Craft Bazaar on December 5th, so if you're in Birmingham, come and check it out.

Anyways, the moral of this story is there is no moral to the story. There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a Quarter-Pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.

And now I'm quoting Troy Dyer. I think it's time to go.

"Things that we learn are no longer enough."

Hoo, boy, I don't even know where to start. Not that much exciting has been happening anyway, so there probably isn't actually even that much to say.

Life has been weird, difficult, trying, unpredictable.

So, you know, pretty much like any other time in my life.

I keep thinking of ways to make things better, steps to take, and I can't seem to muster any motivation when it counts. I'm having a lot, A LOT, of trouble getting things done, finding the persistence to work on my life.

I've been reading a lot, watching movies, the usual modes of procrastination. I've also been using a lot of energy just to get through each day without whacking myself in the face with a hammer, whac-a-mole style.

Again, like any other day.

I really hope I can get things going again on this blog soon. I am really very proud of a lot of the things I've written here, and I don't want to let it go by the wayside. It's been suggested to me recently that this blog has caused me so much trouble that I ought to just take the whole thing down, and that idea made me so sad, really really depressed, so I think I'm going to stick with it a while longer and see what happens. Selfish, maybe; it's just that it has really meant a lot to me, really gotten me through a lot of things to be able to document them here. I enjoy getting it out, working things out in type, and I love and appreciate everyone's comments, advice, encouragement.

There have been times when this blog has been all that has gotten me through the day. I'm just not willing to toss it out yet. Thanks to those of you who are sticking with it with me. I love y'all.

I have found myself without much to say these past few days, I've been just kind of hanging about, waiting for something to bubble up.

So far I got nothin'.

So, I'm planning this bachelorette party for Kristi. Yeah, I mentioned it recently. And I'm sitting around, going, you know one day I'm going to have to get started on, I don't know, sending out invites and actual planning and shit, but the party is so far away I can just sit on my ass for a while longer.



Then suddenly I thought, July 31st. Um, July 31st? JULY MOTHERFUCKING 31ST. That's, hm, A WEEK AND A HALF AWAY OH SHIT I'M NOT READY NOBODY HAS BEEN INVITED WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WHATAREWEGONNADO????



Now I've calmed down a bit, sent out some invites (let's be honest: I've also gotten Ashley, my fellow bridesmaid, to send some out as well), planned some food and drinks, and I'm feeling really excited about the whole thing.



I used to be really good at this kind of stuff, planning and inviting and staying on top of things. HOOBOY, not any more. I just sort of drift about, going "tralala!", and then panic and feel like shit about messing stuff up by waiting until the last minute.



But, hey, I got the invites out. So now I don't have to think about it again for a while, right?



Ooo, shiny!

Man, this life sure does get weird. I realize that I just said that, but I am forced to say it again as life continues to chug happily down the road toward OFF THE DEEP END.

I've been feeling kind of melancholy lately; nothing serious, just a constant, nagging, sort of wah-wah that hangs around in the back of my mind. I am hoping that it is a side-affect of going off birth control pills. That and the red sea that I have going on down there in my pants these past few days.

OOO, BURN. Slipped one in there on you guys. Let's just say Tampax ought to be paying ME at this point, as I am single-handedly keeping them in business, I'm pretty sure.

Next week will be a nutty one at work. Both my bosses are going to San Antonio, so I'll be handling all this stuff by myself, and by "this stuff" I mean not only will I have to do my blogging and online shopping, but I'll also have to handle the watching of the drum videos and making of crude jokes. WOOPS! I kid. Wow. I am headed straight for getting fired again, aren't I? We really do a lot of work, and it is twice as busy when I'm alone in taking care of everything.

I am really starting to have some very serious I-wish-it-would-just-go-away-already feelings about a few of the things I've been through. Clearly one cannot just choose these things; I've tried attacking these feelings with the whole spectrum of emotions from anger, to indifference, to hopefulness, to sadness, guilt, regret, contentment, indignance, relief, to pretending that the feelings don't exist at all.

Next weekend we're going to see the Pine Hill Haints at Bottletree, and then it's WEDDING TIME until August 8th. Not mine, of course; Kristi and Chris are getting married on August 8th. Jason is making the groom's cake and is the photographer and is making the wedding cake topper, and I'm the matron of honor and Reed is the ring bearer. It's a family event, folks! We gon' be wo' out by the end of it, I'm pretty sure, but I sure am excited, too.

I've got to get on planning the bachelorette party, including finding a good stripper; does anybody know if David Bowie can dress up as Jareth and take care of that for us?

Okay, really? A slutty, ten-year-old witch?

The last several Halloweens have found my girlfriends and myself complaining that all of the prepackaged Halloween costumes for women are always slutty- slutty cheerleader, slutty nurse, slutty Snow White, slutty post woman, slutty police woman, slutty Goldilocks (FOR GOD'S SAKES, GOLDILOCKS WAS A CHILD). News flash: not all of us want to be slutty on Halloween. Some of us don't want to wear a tiny swath of spandex with our Cinderella-cleavage bursting out for all to see. But, you know, that's how it goes sometimes.

Then I happened across this on a website called Back To Basics Toys. I like the website, I like a lot of the stuff they sell, I've never ordered anything from them but I was considering a few things for Reed's next birthday. But THIS! No no no no NO, I tell you!



I seriously cannot deal with this shit, this idea that our daughters (okay, YOUR daughters) are supposed to be wearing fifteen pounds of make-up and a skirt with a sexy slit and a low-cut neck by the age of twelve (the largest size is for a 12-year-old girl), much less by the age of EIGHT (the smallest size listed), you sick, twisted motherfuckers! Lord help us all, I think we are veering madly into some sick, crazy, regrettable territory.

In a world where all our television programming is infested with "Let's Catch a Scary Pedophile!" shows, where lists of people who are convicted sex offenders are available on the internet, are we really also saying "Let's dress our young girls, very young girls, girls that are certainly too young to be viewed sexually, in some sexy, sexy stuff! It's just so darned cute!" And then that poor girl who modeled the outfit. Good Lord! What was her mother thinking? And the website or manufacturer or whomever is responsible for this? "Let's put this picture on the internet, where it's safe and sound and certainly no sexual deviants abound!" Listen, I get that anyone who puts pictures of their kid on the internet risks someone looking at them in different ways and for different purposes than they intend. I get that I put tons of pictures on my kids on the internet. But for fuck's sakes, it's a little different when you're TARTING UP YOUR KIDS AND STICKING THEM ON HERE FOR ALL TO SEE. There's something intentional about it, see? There is a huge difference between me saying, "Look, here's my kid cutting his birthday cake in his bike helmet and Batman shirt!" and someone else saying, "Look, here's my kid, my young daughter, wearing enough make-up to play understudy to Tammy Faye Bakker and a low-cut dress with a high slit! Maybe one day she'll have some boobs to fill it out!" I don't know if you see a difference, but I see a difference.

Point is, it's grotesque, and I think we're asking too much from these young girls when we allow them to dress like grown-ups, like slutty grown-ups, and then telling them to be chaste and save it for marriage, expressing concern about std's and teen pregnancy, espousing these ideals about kids should be kids and they are all growing up too fast. It seems to me that we should be teaching these girls that they have power and ownership over their own bodies and the way that they present those bodies has a lot to do with the way that they are perceived by others. I think that when we take these girls and say, "Aw, look, it's so cute when they dress like grown-ups!" that some part of their childhood is lost, something slips away when they start to think "Hey, I get a lot of attention when I dress this way". And plenty of girls realize that at some point, but I think that they're realizing it a lot earlier these days, using it a lot earlier these days, and I think stuff like this has a lot to do with it.

On Crocs. Of shits.

Okay, so, wait just a minute: has anybody else out there seen this website? It's hilarious! Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

This is more than a fad and if you would be smart enough to try a pair on you would also understand why smart people were Crocs. Were do people like you have time for creating such stupid websites.

fuck u u fuckin blowjob. i from Korea and i wear crocs. crocs cool!

Nice blog you FUCKIN STUPID ASS DIPSHIT!!!
GET A FUCKIN LIFE!!!
My entire family wheres Crocs. They fuckin rock!
YOU FUCKIN SUCK SHIT!!! WHO GIVES A SHIT ASS FUCK ABOUT FASHION YOU FUCK!!!
FUCK YOUR FUCKIN BLOG!!! FUCK FUCKIN YOU!!!

And let me be clear: I like Crocs. I own two pairs of them. When I worked at the flower shop and had to be on my feet all day long and had to run back and forth and carry 35 pound buckets of water and foliage and the floors were slippery and it was hot in the summer and I didn't want to wear tennis shoes, these were GREAT. I wore them with socks in the winter. I loved them. My feet almost never hurt, and when they did it was only mildly.

But they are some of the GOOFIEST shoes I have ever seen, hands-down, just ridiculous. JUST RIDICULOUS.

100 Things.

In honor of this, my 500th post. (Not all 500 are up for your viewing pleasure; I took several down a few months ago for personal reasons. Just trust me when I say there are 500 of them.)

1. My parents couldn't decide on a name; my dad liked conservative stuff and my mom liked less common, hippy stuff. They settled on naming me Elizabeth but calling me Buffy.

2. I have never been called anything but Buffy.

3. This has caused a lot of problems at doctor's offices and pharmacies.

4. I never met my maternal grandfather, since he died before I was born.

5. When I was very little, I told my mom and my aunt that I missed my grandfather whom I'd never met.

6. When I was little I stayed with my maternal grandma whenever my mom had to run errands.

7. My grandma and I would play board games, like Parcheesi and Sorry, and watch soap operas.

8. My mom was a stay-at-home mom until I was a teenager.

9. I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.

10. My dad and I can't seem to understand each other.

11. My sister and I were very close when we were growing up.

12. We aren't so close now.

13. My sister is 5'9 and weighs 108 pounds.

14. I have a half-sister and a half-brother who live in Tennessee.

15. The person I refer to as "my sister", India, is really a half-sister as well, but we grew up together so we've never really recognized the "half".

16. I have always said I wanted to have three children, all boys.

17. I have two step-sons, Kane and Jude, and one son, Reed. GO AHEAD AND LAUGH GOD SINCE YOU GAVE ME WHAT I WANTED.

18. I sometimes worry about what kind of person I must be considering what kind of person Jason's last wife is.

19. My earliest memories are of sitting in my window in our house in Centerville, and my mom telling me that if I listened hard enough, I could hear God talking to me.

20. It is a happy memory for me.

21. I also remember sitting in our dirt driveway with my mom, digging doodlebug holes and singing for the doodlebugs to come out.

22. I thought going to college would guarantee a decent job and few money problems.

23. I was wrong.

24. I am wrong a lot.

25. I am surrounded by people who aren't afraid to stick by me even though I am wrong so much.

26. I am right a lot more often than I let myself admit.

27. I worry all the time about us having let Kane and Jude move back in with their mother.

28. I have some very deep and intense feelings of resentment and pain that I can't seem to let go of.

29. Jason astounds me all the time with his wit, intelligence, compassion, and humility.

30. I hope one day I can have all those traits.

31. I have a degree in Philosophy. I really like to talk shit.

32. My favorite animal is a possum.

33. When I was little my mom called me Possum Pie.

34. I have been to New Orleans seven times, and every single time I have felt like I was finally home.

35. I wish that I had the balls to move away, but I would be so sad because I really don't think I want to move.

36. I like my job.

37. This is the first job I've ever had in which I've felt respected and appreciated.

38. I love Coca Cola.

39. I love cheap beer.

40. One of my favorite things to do is sit on my front porch and drink a beer with Jason and my friends.

41. Jason and I have worked very hard to make our marriage work.

42. Jason is my best friend.

43. I also have girlfriends including my mom who are my best friends too.

44. I believe in Jesus. I think he loves us.

45. I try very hard to be the sort of person Jesus would want me to be.

46. I do not always succeed.

47. I try very hard not to pass judgement on other people.

48. Unless they're wearing something really stupid.

49. I get my feelings hurt pretty easily.

50. That is something I am striving to change.

51. My friends/family/whomever can make mistakes and know that I will not judge and my love for them won't change.

52. I was born in Shreveport, Louisiana.

53. I know that two spaces are supposed to go after a period when you're typing.

54. I make really good brownies.

55. I can't think about, talk about, or watch gross stuff while I eat, because then I can't stop thinking that whatever is in my mouth is whatever gross thing I've just thought about, talked about, or watched (bugs, snakes, surgery grossness on tv, etc.). The only other person I know who has this problem is Lindsey. We weird.

56. Some trends that I initially disdained but now like include skinny jeans, slouchy boots, and pointy-toed shoes.

57. I have never liked Burger King.

58. I am bad with money.

59. I am a youngest sibling.

60. I am currently reading Nelson Mandela's autobiography, Heather Armstrong's most recent book, and a parenting book.

61. I got in trouble when I was a kid for stealing an arrowhead from my 4th grade teacher.

62. I totally freeze up in the presence of famous people. I just can't act like a normal human.

63. That probably applies to life in general, not just being around famous people.

64. I had a pretty easy pregnancy.

65. During my pregnancy those Mastercard commercials with the lost dog would come on and I would cry my eyeballs out.

66. I also frequently literally laughed until I cried; I mean I would laugh and then immediately start crying. Pregnancy hormones: scary as fuck.

67. I loved being pregnant, and if Jason and I could afford another baby I would totally want one.

68. I would have to trick Jason into it, as he's already said, "FUCK, BUFFY, I have three kids. That's enough."

69. My cousin is Caitlin Kiernan.

70. If I didn't have to worry about working, I would stay up late and sleep late every day.

71. I can eat box after box of wintergreen Tic Tacs.

72. I once ate an entire box of wintergreen Tic Tacs at one time.

73. I can also tell you that that means I ate exactly 40 wintergreen Tic Tacs at once.

74. I think maybe I know too much about Tic Tacs.

75. Reed is named after my great grandfather, Reed Roe Ramey. Here is more info about that.

76. I would really, really like to have a little girl in our family. (Lindsey, I really love Ava, but I wish I had one that I made.)

77. I am scared that talking on my cell phone too much is going to give me brain tumors.

78. I am sad that Reed will never again be a tiny baby who drools on my shoulder.

79. I am still glad that we are on our way to being potty trained and not throwing writhing, bucking fits on the floor.

80. I took piano lessons for 13 years.

81. I cannot write fiction for SHIT. Seriously painful.

82. When I was a kid I liked to eat the powdered cheese that comes with macaroni right out of the packet. With a spoon.

83. I was also known to eat the powdered hot chocolate mix right out of the packet.

84. I am sometimes proud of myself.

85. I am sometimes ashamed of myself.

86. My paternal grandparents are both pretty sick, and I can't bring myself to visit them.

87. Mortality, my own and that of others, scares the shit out of me.

88. This swine flu thing scared me at first. Now it seems to have dropped off the planet.

89. I voted for Barack Obama.

90. I support freeing Leonard Peltier.

91. I drink a lot of water.

92. When I was 11, my mom and I drove from Leeds, Alabama to Santa Fe, New Mexico. It took 2 1/2 days.

93. On that trip we had a flat tire. A really nice young man stopped and changed it for us and told us he had just come home from Desert Storm because his wife and baby died in a car wreck due to some problem with driving on a spare. He asked us to be careful.

94. I like the Beatles, They Might Be Giants, Ben Folds, and Deee Lite.

95. I am obsessive about washing my hands after doing things like taking out the trash, scooping out the cat litter, sweeping the house, and other general cleaning activities.

96. When I was in high school, I either wanted to grow up to be an actress, a lawyer, or a pilot for the air force.

97. I feel devastatingly uncool when I'm around hipsters.

98. I generally trust people too quickly and easily.

99. I can't stand to step on bugs.

100. I really like the book Confederacy of Dunces.

A circus is a veritable...

Whew, this has been a long week.

Besides the SLEEPY!, my boss has been on vacation all week, and my department is made up of my boss and myself, which means that everything that had to get done this week fell upon myself. It hasn't even been bad; I have thoroughly enjoyed this opportunity to prove myself and show that I am valuable. It's just been a little tiring.

We moved Duque's crate into the computer room Sunday night on account of he'd taken a shit in it while we were out for a few hours, and our bedroom STUNK. This is one thing to put on your "con" list for dogs: Cleaning shit out of a crate at 1:00 am. (Okay, Jason cleaned the shit out of the crate, but still.) On the "pro" list: Herds me around the house constantly. (This can also be seen as a "con".)

Not too long ago I had the distinct pleasure of watching Kristi and Chris' dog Myrna "bury" her bone in their leather sofa, and now I've seen Duque behave similarly. We bought him a few rubber toys and found that he has ZERO interest in them, but last weekend I bought him some rawhide toys and he LOVES them. I've discovered him on more than once occasion setting these toys on the rug in the living room or in Reed's room, and then nudging the rug over the toy with his nose and paw. If he sees me watching him, he'll get the toy back out and slink off to hide it somewhere secret.

These past few weeks have been kind of rough, and I'm not absolutely sure why. I am hoping to shake this funk off in the next few days, because I have really been having a bad time of things lately. I have cried more in the last two weeks than in the last three months all together. And I'm not saying that to be all "Look how saaad I am", it's just that I'm so surprised and taken aback by it. I haven't felt this nasty in a while, and I'm hoping that it's just a temporary setback that I can get past very soon.

I'm looking forward to a nice weekend of Drunk Psychology and good friends. Maybe that'll perk me up a little.

Much ado about some stuff.

I haven't been able to feel rested lately for some reason. I've been getting a pretty good amount of sleep; I just still feel sleepy. Last Saturday I spent almost the entire day in bed, and when I dragged myself out of bed at SEVEN PM I was still drowsy and woozy. Kane and Jude were there with Reed and I would sort of shuffle and mope into the living room once an hour to say, "Do you guys need anything? Is everyone alive? Anybody eat any Comet or anything else I should know about? Y'all haven't barbequed the dog, have you? Alright, back to bed I go". I honestly think I could have stayed in bed until the next morning. I don't know.

And let me tell you, if I'm tired enough to not give a shit that Kane is walking around saying that he thinks he has PINK EYE, then I must be pretty damned tired.

I honestly don't think he had pink eye, though. Friday night one of his eyes was pretty red and irritated, but on Saturday it was much better, just barely veiny looking in one corner and not swollen at all. He was like, "Well, I know whenever I get pink eye it always hurts real bad the first night and then stops hurting." I am no pink eye expert, but I think it would have been weepy with green or yellow stuff and I think the outside of his eye, his eyelid and whatnot, would have been red-looking also if he actually had pink eye. Either way we bought him some pink eye drops and he seemed fine and so far no one else in the house has gotten any eye problems. Kane also just started wearing contacts a couple of months ago, and I think he could have just had some kind of irritation caused by that.

WOW, this is some boring shit. If you weren't sleepy before you read this, I bet you are now. I'm sorry I don't have anything more exciting to offer. It's the damn sleepiness- I am just kind of "meh" about everything. I'll try to bring something more exciting next time. Until then.....

...

Woah! Sorry! I fell asleep. What was I saying?

Mammal.

All you have to do is pick a (musical) artist and using ONLY SONG TITLES from only that artist, answer the questions below. Leave yours in the comments.

I've chosen They Might Be Giants.

1. Are you a male or female: How Can I Sing Like a Girl?

2. Describe yourself: Rabid Child

3. How do you feel about yourself: Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes

4. Describe your parents: Someone Keeps Moving My Chair

5. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriends: Women & Men

6. Describe your current boy/girl situation: Birdhouse In Your Soul

7. Describe your current location: I Should Be Allowed to Think

8. Describe where you want to be: Sleeping in the Flowers

9. Your best friend(s) is/are: Wicked Little Critta

10. Your favourite colour is: Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love

11. You know that: Everything Is Catching On Fire

12. If your life was a television show what would it be called: Who's Knockin' on the Wall?

13. What is life to you: If I Wasn't Shy

14. What is the best advice you have to give: Narrow Your Eyes

Cleaning out my text messages.

- I finally grew a pair and cut my bangs and now it looks like I shaved a hedgehog in my sink.

- You have no idea about the REDWOOD I just pooped.

- I am a mortar GOD!

- Team Colonel Ingus!

- HOTTUB spelled backward is BUTTOH.

- Oh my god! Why aren't you a spoon in Ohio?

- Holy shit! Do you feel like you're living an inauthentic life?

- Pink straws: packed.

- And that's why they call me the shocker!

- I'll guard you both from the rear.

- *smacking noises smacking noises gross mouth noises*

- So now I am just texting to pretend I am not a fork in Ohio.

- You are paaaaaaaaaht of the rebel alliance and a traitor!

- He's a hypnotist of ladies.

- Real Raybans or testicles over my eyes?

- NUCULAR.

The idea for this post came from Sarah.

Hit me again, Ike! And this time, put some stank on it!

Have you ever seen any of your exes in a store and ducked or turned the other way in hopes of not having to talk to them?

I have in my wake a long string of boys who think I am a devil woman and that our relationships went horribly awry on account of ME, my being a CUNT and a BITCH and a, dare I say, WHORE who should just FUCK OFF ALREADY.

Hey, mama! Jason, what's up?

Anyway, I have a few things that I would like to say (what else is new?).

Firstly, not ALL of my exes think all that about me. There are some who smile when they see me, introduce themselves to Jason and Reed and act politely and we all are fine about everything.

Secondly, those who DO feel that way about me, I have always wished that these guys could take another look at the relationships that we had, the absolute horror of it all and how terribly wrong it was and how after a while, neither of us was happy any more. There are a couple in particular that I'm thinking of where they boys hated me particularly badly after it was all over and I was left standing there going, Wait, you are mourning the ending of this clusterfuck? 'Cause I thought there would be, like, confetti and some champagne and handshakes and shit, so I am just really confused that you seem to be suggesting that you thought we ought to continue this charade of bad sex, near-violence, name-calling and black-out drinking.

I mean, looking back I can honestly say that I was a shitty girlfriend some of the time, but if we're really going to be truthful wouldn't we say that you fuckers were SHITTY boyfriends some of the time as well? Really, do you think I enjoyed being called a bitch and being yelled at every time I wanted to go somewhere with my girlfriends and being dropped like a hot potato every time one of your friends wanted to go to the movies and being next in line behind your brother and fourteen other fucking punks*? DO YOU? Because I can tell you I did NOT, in fact, enjoy that shit. And I say again, I was sort of a crapshoot as well.

The POINT is that there really wasn't much worth salvaging in those relationships, and I ended them because we were both miserable and mean and totally self-absorbed and nothing good was ever going to come of it. And what happens next is I am a pariah, spit upon by all your friends some of whom are MY friends and WERE my friends since before we dated, and I'm a BITCH CUNT WHORE who ripped your world apart and shit on you and laughed in your face, and all your/our/my friends are just really uncomfortable with the way I just FUCKED YOU OVER so hardcore, and they must remind me about it every time they see me by sneering and cold-shouldering and whatnot. Hey, it's cool, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything.

I'm just not totally comfortable with those labels.

Anyways, I have recently started talking to a fellow who I used to be really good friends with and who is still really good friends with one of those exes. It makes me think about how a couple of those relationships, somewhere on the inside of them, I started wishing that I was best friends with the boy instead of his girlfriend. Because if we were best friends we would have been able to enjoy everything that was so good about the relationship without all the yelling and anger and supsicion and bitterness. And when I started wishing that is when I thought, WOAH, clearly we are not meant to be, right? I mean, if you're thinking "I'd really rather take So-And-So to the movies than Buffy" and I'm thinking "Wow, this would be great if we didn't have to fuck", IT JUST HAS TO BE A SIGN, OKAY?

So what is my point in all this? I don't really have one. Ha! I just like talking about how slutty I am.

*I'd just like to also say BROS BEFORE HOS and all that fucking bullshit but if two people are really suited for each other let's hope that you don't really have to make a choice between your bro and your ho, right? I generally don't have to choose between Jason (my ho) and Kristi or Lindsey or anyone else (my bros): it just doesn't work that way.

Their names are called, they raise a paw: the bat, the cat, dolphin and dog, koala bear and hog.

We have a lot going on in the next few weeks.

This weekend we're headed down to New Orleans to visit our friend Amanda and film a new Drunk Psychology. The next weekend is our good friend John's 30th birthday party. May will bring Mother's Day and India's birthday and Linnea's birthday, and then we're photographing a wedding at the end of the month.

It will only get busier from there. June brings Kane's, Jude's, Kristi's, and my birthdays, plus we're planning a baby shower for our friend Brock (yep), and our friends Dana and Wes are getting married and we're taking pictures, and we're throwing a huge party for Kristi's, Lindsey's, and my 30th birthdays combined.

In July we'll have Lindsey's birthday, my mom's birthday, and Brock's baby will be born.

August will bring Kristi's bachelorette party and shower, and then she and Chris are getting married on the 8th. Reed and I are in the wedding and Jason is the photographer. Then Chris' birthday is on the 19th.

I think I might go to bed for a while in September. So don't bother calling.

Our new kangaroo is supposed to arrive next week.

I'll be honest with you: I think maybe something is wrong with me. And also with pretty much everybody I know.

As long as we've lived in our house, which is about four years, Jason has wanted a dog. A big dog. Some sort of large, bounding, herding dog that the kids can ride around the back yard and that can kill whole cows and bring them home for dinner. I have spent this last four years saying no, a thousand times no, we don't need a dog and we can't have a dog and if we were going to get a dog I want a Chinese Crested. Jason's response was "Hell no on the Chinese Crested but OF COURSE we need a dog and can have a dog. A BIG ONE."

So we've continued on in this manner for all these years.

Then last week happened.

Nothing in particular has changed or occurred. I don't have a clue what has happened to my brain. Maybe the prozac; I don't know. But suddenly Jason has been on this blue heeler kick and for whatever reason I said, "Okay, let's look at blue heelers."

So I've been looking up dogs, and it turns out Jason is incredibly particular. And it's not even like there is some list I can go by; Jason simply can look at the dog and know if it's "his dog" or not. This one is too tall. This one is to small. This one prompted Jason to say "I will not be able to fucking sleep knowing that dog is in our house."

I love all three of those dogs, so someone should go adopt them so I don't have to worry about them any more.

Anyway, we think we've found a dog we like. We've filled out adoption applications. Yesterday I finally got up the nerve to tell my mom about it. My mom is the lady who always says no, a thousand times no, we don't need a cat/dog/goat and if we get a cat/dog/goat she's going to throw herself off the roof of her house in protest.

What did she say yesterday? "Well, you know, I've had dogs all my life. I can't argue with you."

WHAT?!? So all I could think was, "Well I HAVE to send the adoption applications in NOW with all that flippant gauntlet-throwing she's doing right there."

Listen, the truth is I had dogs and cats throughout my childhood. I had Poochie, a little round mutt who followed me everywhere and took care of me and was a hell of a watch dog (the poor UPS guy). Then I had Ruppleduffie, a huge lab mix who was goofy and spent most of his puppyhood sleeping on top of a large basket of pecans. Now I'm not going to lie and say that I took complete care of them and my mom never had to lift a finger- she did the majority of the feeding and bathing and taking care of those dogs. But I helped. And I loved them intensely, and played with them, and pet them and stroked them and talked to them and took their pictures and dressed them in doll clothes. They were my pets.

Since my head has been so clear lately I've re-evaluating a lot, including how I'm raising Reed. I think we're doing a pretty good job, but I realized that I don't want him to grow up, to be a six year old and then a nine year old and then a twelve year old without ever having helped to raise a dog. I don't want him to grow up without knowing what it feels like to love a dog, to take care of it, to see its happy face when he comes home from school. Kane and Jude have had a wide assortment of pets, a few at our house and a lot at their mom's house, and I sometimes worry that their mom is teaching them that pets are disposable and you can just move on to the next one if the first one doesn't work out. I think maybe this might be good for them, too.

Last night I asked Reed, "Would you like to have a dog that lives here with us?" He got very excited very fast and said, "Yes! I wish I had a dog. I would like to have a dog."

So I guess that settles it. Reed is a normal kid and my mom and I are crazy as shit-house rats. Congratulations to us all.

AHA.

I want to talk for a moment about something that's on all our minds: vaccinations.

Okay, so it's not on anybody's minds. It hasn't been on my mind for some time as Reed has been caught up on his shots for some time; I think he was probably around 2 or 2 1/2 the last time he had to get any immunations. But it's on my mind now, and I have a few things that I'd like to say.

When I was pregnant I read a LOT of pregnancy and child-rearing books. I think by the time Reed was born I had read eight or ten of them. Any time I ran across an article or website on the subject I'd read that, too. I was pretty much terrified, and the more knowledge I soaked up about the process of pregnancy, labor, and raising a kid, the calmer I felt about all of it. You can never know everything, but in my opinion you can never know too much, either.

One of the issues that started to stick out for me was childhood immunizations and their pros and cons. This has been a hot-button issue for several years, not least because some people claim that there is a link between these immunizations and the occurance of autism. The link seems to revolve around the use of thiomersal as a preservative in vaccines. Besides autism a lot of parents find that their kids have pretty severe adverse reactions to some immunizations like rashes and bad fevers and whatnot.

Listen, I am no expert, but I have read up on both sides of this debate and I have to tell you by the time Reed was born I was really worried about these vaccinations and what effect they were going to have on my tiny baby. Pregnancy is not a condition that is known for shoving one chock full o' logic and reason which is partly why I did so much reading: I wanted to be aware of what was realistic to be worried about and what wasn't.

My opinion by the time Reed got here was that it was realistic to be worried about it. Once he was here, once I knew him, the idea of something changing him (Jerkface get off my wording here, I know that "something" will eventually change my kid, but I think you get my point here) or of my making a choice that might alter his abilities horrified and terrified and paralyzed me. A lot of this was a result of some severe postpartum depression that I have only recently gotten a handle on. I mean, driving with Reed in the car I would think "What if I get in a wreck and he gets hurt?" and when he slept I would think "What if he chokes or stops breathing and I don't hear him?" OF COURSE after all that reading I was going to think "What if I get Reed all those immunizations and he stops making eye contact with me or stops saying a word that he says now?" PARALYZING.

After talking to Reed's pediatrician about it we decided- the doctor, Jason, and I- that Reed would get his immunizations but on a slower schedule than the schedule recommended by most pediatricians. The norm is to shoot your kid up with a LOT of vaccines in a short amount of time, sometimes four or five in one doctor's visit, and I didn't like that. Reed's doctor was understanding and kind and cooperative, and helped us work out a schedule that made me feel a lot better.

At some point a person who I was very close to judged me, openly ridiculed me for my concerns, and it hurt and embarrassed me and ultimately played a part in my total alienation from that person. That person had no children of her own and was very open about never wanting to have kids. She was also in the medical field which I'm sure is part of what made her so sure of herself in her judgements.

Again, I haven't really thought about it much in past year or so, but then I read this post on Dooce and reading what Heather has to say about it really made me feel good about all of it. I appreciate what she's saying about the real and extreme dangers involved in not immunizing your children. But what I really like in this post is her interest in other people's thoughts and her ability to welcome differences of opinion while still expressing her own.

Basically I am meandering around this point: Please, please, whether you have kids or don't have kids, want kids or don't want kids, know kids or don't know kids, allow your friends to grow and learn and work towards their own decisions without the added pressure of your impending gauntlet-throwing. It is always helpful to engage in discussion and debate on these kinds of topics, and if you're lucky everyone involved will learn something from them. But let's all take the time to either sympathise or empathise with how difficult, how mind-blowing, how crippling parenting can feel for some of us. Please know that when someone you love is trying to make any of the myriad important decisions associated with being a mom or a dad that that someone is probably trying really very hard to make the right decision when there is no right decision there. BE SUPPORTIVE, for fuck's sakes, and if you feel differently about something than your parent friend then talk to them about it. Make it a discussion, not a ruling.

Incidentally, Reed had what I'm pretty sure was an adverse reaction to one of his rounds of immunizations once. It scared the shit out of me. Of course the doctors at the emergency room didn't want to discuss whether or not it was related to the vaccine- they literally wouldn't say whether or not they thought the two things were related. But it made all of my fears and concerns and paranoia feel real, logical, tangible. I am a crazy bitch, but that doesn't mean that every thought I have is crazy.

It's kind of like how Taco Bell is really kind of a shithole, but not everything that they make there sucks. You know?

April Fool's Day!

Okay, so, now I've told my Costa Rica story and can finally get back to my much more important blather- you know: blahblahblah this life sucks blahblahblah crazy ex-wife blahblahblah fucking kids blahblahblah I guess I'll go to work blahblahblah drinking beer on the weekends blahblahblah laundry and I will kill Jason today blahblah.

Right? I mean, that's about it, right?

Hey, the next time you're wearing a slim-fitting denim pencil skirt and you've just finished using the bathroom, I want you to try and flush the toilet with your foot (like you do).

Just for funsies.

I'm burnin' up, burnin' up for your love.

I haven't always loved hot foods. In fact, up until I was about 22 I never ate spicy stuff- no hot sauce, no jalapenos, only mild salsa, etc.

Then I was at my Aunt CJ's house in Pensacola and she was making nachos for everybody, and she said, "You want jalapenos?" My friend piped up and said, "No, she doesn't eat spicy stuff." I don't know why, I don't know what changed, but I immediately said, "YES, I DO WANT JALAPENOS. I LIKE THEM." And it wasn't a matter of proving anything to either of them. I just suddenly liked the jalapenos.

Since then my love of spicy things has grown exponentially. Some times I crave jalapenos so much that I try to think of something to eat them with. I like hot salsa, hot sauce, spicy foods, all kinds of peppers.

Point is, I just discovered this website, and I'm intrigued.

Contact!

On my way to Costa Rica!

I've actually scheduled some posts to publish while I'm gone, so don't stop reading. Just know that I'm okay; I'm on a beach somewhere watching Jason and Chris trying to surf, looking fabulous with Kristi in our sweet-ass dresses that we bought to lounge on the beach and drink pina coladas in.

I hope to bring back fun souveniers and rad pictures to show you guys what cool-asses we are. In the meantime, y'all ponder ducks in long pants.