I am absolutely shaken.

I heard this story about dolphin slaughter in Japan yesterday on NPR, and I am sick about it.

Click here for the story, here for a review of the documentary film, and go here for the trailer for said documentary called The Cove that is coming out about this.

Please go here to help.

I do not know what is going on with my body these days, but I think something must be wrong. My eyes are really swollen and hot, and my throat hurts, and my nose is all stopped up. I am exhausted all the time, whether I get sleep or not. I am nauseated and I've thrown up a few times. I've been getting heartburn regularly when, until about two weeks ago, I had never had heartburn before in my life.

I don't know what's up, but it's starting to get difficult to function an a daily basis when I'm feeling this badly. I long to be in bed all the time, and I've spent the last two days literally falling asleep at my desk at work. It's all getting to be too much pretty quickly.

I'm taking my vitamins, I'm drinking water and hot tea, I'm walking the dog, resting, getting some sleep when I can.

Oh, yeah, that's another thing: I've had a lot of trouble sleeping lately.

Anyway, I'm falling apart at the seams, mouth-breathing and aching and writhing around. I'm just not really sure how to deal with all of this.

You Americans, you're all the same. Always overdressing for the wrong occasions.

5 weeks until Costa Rica, and 5 days until San Antonio. I can't believe all this traveling that I'm doing. Since Jason and I have been married (five years ago), we had a nice honeymoon, a five-day trip to New Orleans, and a five-day trip to Gatlinburg. Besides that, it's just been a couple of weekend trips to friends' houses a few hours away. Not that those aren't nice, but it's very different from getting on a plane and staying in a hotel (or a house in the jungle) and all that. I'm terribly excited, which is why y'all keep having to read about it.

I'm also a little sick. My chest is hurting and I'm feeling pretty low; I think I'm calling the doctor today.

Reed has a really nasty sinus infection. We've been watching a lot of Indiana Jones, or Marianna Jones, as he's determined to call it, and last night he kept saying "I want to watch the one with all the steaks!" He said this over and over, and was totally frustrated that I was like, "I don't think there IS an Indiana Jones with steaks..." Finally I figured out that he was talking about SNAKES, the one with all the SNAKES. Actually there are snakes in pretty much all of the Indiana Jones movies, but I figured out he was referring to the Raiders of the Lost Ark. We happily snuggled under a blanket and watched it for bedtime last night.

When I really think about it, get myself down to the bottom line, this life is the life I've always wanted, with just a few snags here and there (crazy ex-wife, her crazy husband, no-money-having, etc.). We're working on the snags, and it feels good to be able to say that.

Yet another day in the life.

Oh, Lordy mercy. This morning I threw my neck out.

I guess that's the correct phrase. This morning as I was sitting up in bed I turned my head to the right and reached for my glass of water with my right hand. Then I died a slow and painful death.

Actually then I had an intense burning, fiery, the-devil-is-giving-me-a-shoulder-rub-with-his-charred-burning-hands sensation in the left side of my neck and shoulders. It was almost as cool as hitting myself in the face with a shovel. I somehow managed to put the glass of water back on the table and lie there thinking, okay, I can't move. It was like, I was capable of moving, but when I even thought about it the sensation got worse.

I somehow reached over and got my cell phone and texted Jason, yes that's right I texted my husband who was in the kitchen at the time, and said, "I'm dying. If you want to pay your last respects come back here but don't expect any sexy stuff because I can't move." Actually I just said, "Come here."

So eventually after aspirin and rest and a heating pad, my husband left me there alone, immobile, in the bed. I decided that I didn't want to lie about in bed all day, but when I tried to sit up, the pain was just too intense. So that's when my genius that I inherited from my mother kicked in and I thought, I'll just roll out of bed. Simple. So I simply rolled myself over, falling out of the bed, and narrowly escaping slamming my face into the corner of the nightstand.

What you don't know is that I used to be a guest-star on the Benny Hill show and that's where I learned all of these righteous comedy techniques.

Anyways, I managed to get up, managed to get towels and get the shower turned on, and then I stepped into the shower.

And then I slipped and fell down, right on my ass, in the shower, alone in the house.

When I later talked to Jason I said, "And I could be there still, drowned in the shower, and subsequently your water bill would be OUTRAGEOUS."

Now go and read this for a laugh.

P.S. Heard at work: "I'd rather be a good liver than have one." Also, "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."

Rearin' his ugly head.

Jeez, after all that nice stuff I wrote yesterday about my child, then last night was terrible. AWFUL. HE WAS AWFUL.

Besides "I'm going to punch you in the face!", besides "I'm going to kick you in the face!", besides "I'm going to kick your ass out!", he said "I'm going to spit on you!" and then he actually spit on Jason, a big, gooey strand of spit.

We are totally horrified at this point.

There are some things that Reed does that I know where they come from, that I know he got from Jason ("ass") or Kane and Jude (wrestling, playfully hitting, gleefully jumping on top of people) or me (the crazy, the attitude, THE CRAZY), but these are phrases and attitudes that he did not get at home.

We've questioned our choice of daycare before, but so far we've continued to send him and tried not to worry about it because it's very difficult to do anything else about it.

Now that I have a job we hope that our finances will get better, but right now they are in the shitter pretty badly, to the tune of about -$300, with the next payday about eight days away.

Reed is absolutely worth any amount of money, more than money, and I would do anything to keep him safe and sound. But I've said before when there's no money, there's no money.

There is a daycare right across the street from where I work now and I've called and they have a slot, but it would mean about $50 more a week, about $200 more a month. Can we do it? I don't know. I can spout off about Reed's importance all I want, but if we can't come up with the money to pay the daycare, they won't let him stay, and I'll have to stay home from work, and I'll eventually get fired.

That right there is called The Illustration of How My Brain Works.

So that's where we are right now- PANICKED. UNSURE. WORRIED. BEATEN DOWN.

And now I have to go home to a toddler who's going to spit on me and then kick my ass out. I can't get a break.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff

We took Reed to the zoo for the very first time yesterday. He REALLY loved it. We only got around to about half of the zoo; he is a little person with short legs, plus it was hot we were sweaty, so after about two hours he asked if we could go home.

I have come down with the plague, complete with sinus headaches, chest pain, and mouth-breathing.

These past few days I've spent a lot of time with a couple of girls who I don't see very often. I'm sorry for the circumstances, but thankful for the closeness. It has been really nice.

I watched the presidential debate last Friday with friends, and we all raised our eyebrows or chuckled or pishawed at the same parts. I particularly enjoyed how McCain's eyes bug out when he gets pissed off. This Thursday we're watching the V.P. debate with the same folks, and I'm excited about it.

Still no job-offers. FOR THE LOVE OF SHIT. I did, however, get to visit wonderful Bug Tussel, Alabama today. I want to move there.

I can't imagine.

Oh, Lordy. Communicating with the folks at the unemployment office is like being from Alabama and trying to communicate with that little guy who calls me from India about my Mastercard bill: difficult, to avoid using any expletives. So I'm still waiting to find out if I'm going to get any money for not having a job. Shouldn't one get paid for not working? I should think so. At least then I can get our cable cut back on, therefore providing myself with something to do with all this free time.

As it is I am washing, washing, washing clothes and sheets and socks and towels and the cat and my armpits and the dishes and my car and the bills and anything else that repulses me.

Kane and Jude stayed with us this weekend and they are just as smart-assed as usual. So at least their mom and step-dad haven't managed to FUCK that up yet.

In other news, my kid is an even bigger smart-ass than his brothers. It's like God said, "Okay, let's, just for fun, take all the smart-ass Kane and Jude got, and all the smart-ass Jason and Buffy got, and smush it together, give it blonde hair and a fucking cute smile and see what happens."

What happens is I almost die, every day, either from the cute overload that occurs in my house every single day or from the gouging of my eyes with screwdrivers after Reed gleefully shouts "WHAT THE HELL? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

And, really, where the FUCK is he getting all this awful language?

I love the taste of phlegm in the morning.

This week I have a bronchial infection and it is very seriously sucking my will to live. Last night I coughed until I threw up. Yay, right?

The problem is that the only thing that makes me feel better is that perfect combination of Benadryl and cough syrup, which renders me nearly unconscious. I took it yesterday and felt much better, until I forced myself out of bed at 2:30 in the afternoon. This morning I'm thinking, "Okay, do I want to take the medicine and feel better and sleep all day long, or do I want to not take the medicine and feel awful but be able to be productive?" And then I'm like, "Who am I kidding? I've never been interested in being productive. I think I'll throw in a martini on top of the meds to give them that extra oomph."

So now I'm waiting for sweet, sweet unconsciousness and thinking about our money situation. It is bad, folks. There are a couple of things that may get cut off this week, plus we have to pay the child support, and we have about $250 in the bank.

I'm really trying hard to find something, anything, to bring some money into the house. I was really hopeful about this one job at Whole Foods, but they're hiring from the inside so no luck there.

It's really indescribably discouraging, this way that things are. I send out resumes all the time with cover letters explaining why I would be a perfect receptionist/office manager/executive assistant/copy editor/data entry person/ANYTHING THAT WOULD PAY ME; I am getting no phone calls.

For now I will just try to be thankful that at least I have the Benadryl.

When I first realized that I was really sick, Jason says to me, "Hey, look on the bright side: at least you don't have to call in." Small blessings.

Yesterday was my 29th birthday, and guess what I got? Foreclosure.

It's been a damn long time since we've been able to pay the mortgage, so it's not like it's a complete surprise. It's just that every payday, the money is gone before we get it, paying the daycare and the power and the loans etc. So here we are.

This weekend we start moving stuff into my mom's house.

On children's programming.

So Bunnytown is one of Reed's new favorite shows, and I think it's okay. We have been inundated with the Wiggles for the last several months, which I resisted for along time because of this atrocity right here.



I first saw this when I worked at a daycare in 2001. I was all "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TRIPE THAT THESE KIDS ARE BEGGING TO WATCH? OH MY GOD. WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE I WAS WATCHING THE WALTONS AND YELLOW SUBMARINE." After a couple hundred days of watching the Wiggles, I now don't find them atrocious at all. I actually walk around singing several of their songs, and I occasionally look forward to watching them with Reed. I know that's all against God's plan and all, my wanting to watch stuff WITH him instead of utilizing random children's television to babysit him while I have my gin and a cigarette, but I've always gone against the grain. I tried to find one of my favorite songs they sing, the bricklayer song, but I found this beauty right here.



I am new to the Bunnytown stuff, so when I searched and found the following video I decided to post it because it is so similar to a certain someone's bedtime around here. We go through this almost every night of the week.

My best impression of what will send me to an early grave:

"MONEY MONEY MONEY! I WANT SOME MONEY! GIVE ME SOME MONEY! YOU PAY FOR IT! I WON'T PAY FOR IT! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR IT WHEN I CAN JUST SIT HERE AND SAY THAT I WON'T?! I WANT TO NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN AND GET PAID FOR IT! YOU TAKE 'EM AND AS LONG AS YOU'RE COMING BY YOU CAN JUST DROP OFF THAT CHECK! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR THEIR CLOTHES OR SUPPLIES OR FOOD?! WHERE IS MY GOD-DAMNED MONEY?! I'M GOING TO GET THERE LATE BUT WHEN I PULL UP YOU HAVE MY MONEY READY! MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY!"

Bowling balls for tonsils.

The nausea has set in, either from the birth control or the impending nastiness with Kane and Jude's mother. Days and days of clenching, gagging, and crying is really starting to take a toll on my body and mind.

She has registered them for school where she lives. Her mother thinks this plan is "great". It's becoming more and more obvious that there must be some hidden goal, something that no one is telling us about this plan, because I just can't understand what about it is great. I mean, all the time that they usually spend the night with Nan, they'll now be at our house, so there will be no more spending the night with Nan. All the time that they go on vacations with their mom or her family will now be spent at our house, so there will be no more vacations. The only days that they will spend with their mom or Nan or whomever will be days that they're at school for most of the day; the only nights with them will be nights that will be followed by getting up for school. I just feel like there is some hidden agenda, some reason we're not being told that makes this all just FANTASTIC for them.

I really can't apologize enough to all of you for my obsession with this topic. The moments I spend thinking about anything else are few and far between. Thankfully, Jason will begin the phone calls and referral process with some legal eagles tomorrow; I hope that most of the day will be spent lawin', not jawin'. Or jawin' about lawin'. Anything that might help ease this constant feeling like I have a 40 ton cement block riding on my shoulders.

When Kane watches the show, I spontaneously develop a nervous tick.

Tonight I am battling with all my strength a serious headache and aching, burning ribs that shout WHY? WHY WOULD YOU MOVE WHEN YOU COULD JUST GET ON THE FLOOR AND LIE THERE?

I have just one anecdote for you. This evening I was cooking myself a quesadilla while Kane, Jude, and Reed sat at our kitchen table and ate theirs. Reed was, for the love of all that expects me to survive this month without taking a spatula and beating my face with it until I pass out or go blind, sitting quietly, eating, and nodding his head at everything that Kane and Jude were saying.

Then Kane says, "Jude I put our [I will never remember the name of this Pokemon dinosaur thingy that they have on some game on the internet] in daycare." Jude, bless his heart, actually froze, put his hand flat over his chest, and said, "MY [Pokemon dinosaur thingy]? WHY?" Kane thoughtfully replied, "Well, he has to grow and learn and socialize. When we check on him tomorrow, I bet he'll have metamorphosed into a [the next metamorphosis* of this Pokemon dinosaur thingy]. Jude took a deep breath and was like, "Mm, okay. I hope he's alright."

And I realized, THEY WERE ME AND JASON. They were such proud, thoughtful, caring and concerned parents right in that moment.

And then Reed dipped his quesadilla in his orange juice and ate it, and Kane and Jude proceeded to moan and convulse and gag.

* Did you know that they metamorph? I knew that, on account of I played Pokemon, the card game, for quite some time several years ago. I actually had hundreds of Pokemon cards organized into these long, cardboard boxes, and I had a killer deck that was pretty hard to beat. LOADS of things I haven't gotten to on this blog yet.

Screaming toddlers, leaking pipes, and a bag full o' tampons.

Tonight I'm feeling slightly melancholy, and I'm thinking that perhaps it's because of the, I don't know, MONTH-AND-A-HALF LONG Advil and Tampax binge I've been on.

I truly hope that none of the few boys who read this blog (Hey, Jason! Hey, Jason! Hey, Thom! ROBERT, are you reading this?) are horrified that I write this stuff, that I sneak it in too quickly for them to look away and think about baseball, or comic books, or girls who aren't currently menstruating. Or girls who aren't menstruating who play baseball and read comic books- THAT WOULD BE SO HOT.

Today I worked eight hours with an ace bandage strapped tightly around my ribs and, I have to tell you, it helped. Then Jason told me that the plumbing is not fixed, and I had to grip down onto the steering wheel tightly, tightly enough to stop my body from spontaneously throwing itself out of the window of my car whilst in motion.

I must say I feel like what I'm doing isn't so much circling the drain as persevering. There is a difference- that moment where I manage not to throw myself out the window of a moving car that I am driving? That's the difference.

P.S. I talked to someone tonight who I haven't talked to in quite a while, who I love very much. At one point, I had to tell him to hang on, and he got the immense pleasure of listening to me fighting a bag of peanuts out of Reed's hands. He said, "Dude, is he talking now?" I was like, "Yuh-huh!" He then said his significant other has baby fever, and I was like, "Well, just let me lock her in a room with Reed for about 48 hours. And I'll go drink."

Go forward. Move ahead. Try to detect it. It's not too late.

The plumbing is fixed, we think. Jason's car is fixed, we think. The "ripped, torn, and very inflamed cartilage" in my ribs might heal eventually, we think.

We've been taking Reed out into the world quite a bit lately, to restaurants and stores. It's fun to see how much he's grown up, waving at strangers and saying hello. He is so curious and friendly, and people really respond to it. Usually. Every now and then we run into people who are like I was about eight or ten years ago- "sure he's cute and all, but that doesn't mean I want him staring at me for long periods of time or standing close to me." But, hey, those people will be alright. They just need to drink more.

Whine, whine, whine- can't I do anything else. Um, no.

Yeah, have I ever written here about how I have always been especially prone to coming down with walking pnemonia and bronchitis? And how when I was sixteen I got for-real pnemonia and it lasted a really long time? And how on Thanksgiving that year I coughed until I cracked a rib and my parents had to take me to the emergency room and they took an x-ray and showed me the little crack and I thought, wow? Seriously, from coughing?

Yes, well that has happened again. When I woke up yesterday I noticed that when I coughed I had really intense pain in my right ribs. Now I'm waiting for my doctor to call me back and tell me what the best plan of action is- work, no work, medicine, no medicine, vodka and a shotgun, no vodka just the shotgun.

Reed has a doctor's appointment this afternoon to check out his eyes; they've been red and gooey for almost two weeks now. I'm quite sure it's not pink eye, but I just want to make sure that it's not anything serious or out of the ordinary. My allergies are so gross that I figure it might just be the pollen irritating them, but I'd like to make sure.

Have I ever written here about how my friend Misty had a strep infection in her eye when we were in middle school? And how Jason was diagnosed with strep throat on two days ago? Yes, well I just want to make sure that Reed doesn't have STREP EYE or something else equally horrifying.

Jason's car broke down yesterday, and the dish washer and kitchen sink are both leaking grotesque food-water underneath our house and it STINKS. Those are the things that Jason is working on while I sit here writing on the internet, waiting for my doctor to call, or for Jesus to take me home, whichever happens first.

Single-handedly keeping Stayfree in business.

DSC_0104.jpg
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I haven't been writing enough lately. It has something to do with my INTENSE EXHAUSTION- it causes me to pay less attention to the things that aren't absolutely necessary to make it from getting out of the bed in the morning to getting into the bed at night.

I am now the proud owner of one less baby and one more little boy. It is truly bizarre how much he understands and can communicate on a daily basis. He tells me what makes him sad, what makes him happy, when he's hungry and thirsty, when he's tired. He listens when I'm talking to other people and asks me questions about the stories I tell.

Living with Kane, Jude, and Reed is unlike anything I could have possibly predicted for myself. They are loud, rough, funny, irreverent. Some days it's like living with every male friend and boyfriend I've ever had, except at the end of the day I still want to be around them.

I mean, you know, most of the time.

Anyways, most days I lean heavily on patience, perseverance, Jesus, instinct, and the telephone to make it through.

Last night I actually found myself in bed, reading, and thinking that I couldn't wait until bedtime tonight. I was in my bed, and longing for being in my bed, just 24 hours later. Wrap your head around that one. I just knew that today would be a test, a wonderful day that would start with a lot of candy, so much sugar that Reed would vibrate, and that Jason would be at work all day, that there would be laughter and wonder but many, many fits and tantrums and misunderstandings and impatience. And today was beautiful and affirming and lovely, and long and exhausting.

The first period I had since November is still here, still happening, one month long so far. This is a condition I've been dealing with since I was thirteen years old, and I've been to numerous doctors countless times to try and deal with it. When it flares up like this it is so consuming that it becomes difficult to see past it, to remember that there MIGHT be a time again when I won't have to carry 17 pounds of lady supplies, along with iron pills and ibuprofen, everywhere I go, that the intense and lasting rushing hormones won't control my emotions forever, that one day I will be normal again.

That last one is a real stretch; I think I won't hold my breath.

Bird flu?

This is what happens...
Originally uploaded by cuttingroomfloor

Bronchitis? I don't know. Whatever it is, it's hanging around for a second week. The fever is gone, as well as that pesky sense that I am just about to die from all the mucus. My nose is only partly stopped up. But my eyes and nostrils still feel hot and fat, and I'm still using my inhaler four or five times a day.

So, all in all, some is, some ain't.

I went to the craft shop one day week-before-last, right before the plague came to my house, and totally loaded up on my favorite polymer clay. I went in thinking, "I'm going to buy one or two new colors to make new stuff for our show." Then it was on sale for much cheaper than normal, and the next thing I knew I had a basket full of stuff. The sad part is, I'm looking at this picture and thinking, "Wait, I didn't get any greens!"

I'm feeling like Jason and I are in the midst of this whirlwind of opportunities and we're grasping at all of them, and waiting to see what we have in our hands once the weather calms down. No matter what happens, it feels good to be striving for something.

Now we're just waiting for tomorrow morning when we can discern whether or not Reed has the pink eye.

It is NEVER boring in this house.

Hep meh!

Okay; sorry for my absence. Here's a quick update:

Vomit, diarrhea, bronchitis, oh my! My doctor said, "You know, you've had a hard year." I said, "You don't know the half of it."

We got our tax refund a couple of weeks ago, and as a result livin' has been easy, at least easier than usual for a while. This is the one time of year when the kids have lunch money and the bills get paid and we stop to breathe for just a minute.

Jason and I are showing our photographs, jewelry, and possibly some artwork on April 17 at Speakeasy, and I am awfully excited about it. Now if I can just kick the liquid in my bronchial areas maybe I can actually prepare.

I have a lot of things in store for my jewelry-making, but I might not be listing any of it until after the show. It makes sense to make tons and tons of new stuff and have it there for sale and just hold off on listing things until after. So my Etsy will probably slow down for the next few weeks, but I'll be back in full force on April 18. Or, let's face it, it'll be a few days after that.

I asked Reed this morning how he feels, and he replied, "Well, I feel good." It's nice having a miniature, white James Brown in my house. I hope I'll feel good, too, in a few days.