Richy is, as we speak, talking on the phone in the bathroom. Some things should be sacred, if you ask me. Nobody asked me.

I really would like to write something pithy and funny for you. I even have a funny little attitude, and I can tell that I could be in the zone, easily, like if Daniel was here for me to mock, or someone funny was talking to me. I guess I have blogger's block. 

So here's what we're gonna do. I am going to take 5 suggestions for topics to blog on next week. 

Go ahead and throw me a bone. Submit the topic, or topics you would like me to expound upon, and I will choose whichever ones inspire my muse, OR if there are only 5, then I will choose those ones.

Ready, set, go!

Last night I skipped American Idol because we had dinner plans. That is LOVE, people. I set up our new $4 thrift store VCR to record it, but it didn't work out. So I am hoping to steal some time today to go track down some clips and get my fix.

It's tricky, though because I am supposed to be spot-lifying the house since we have houseguests coming tonight to stay for several days. Tricky indeed. Cleaning is hard, since I require constant breaks. I'm all about reward, so I do one little thing and then I have some reward time, and then eventually I do some more. And more rewards, of course. So, it takes a while.

So I have to go now, and do housewifely things. In the meantime, I will be thinking funny thoughts that I will not be blogging, since I will be cleaning. And maybe you will never know.

So here's the thing. I like poking around with HTML behind the scenes at the ol' blog here. It's another language, and I speak a little. Problem is, I only speak a little. Today I ran across some pre-made blog templates, and they tempt me so with their smoothness and sweet design. It would feel like cheating, though. I blog from scratch.

I cook from scratch too, mostly. I mean, I do use canned tomatoes and such... but I chop vegetables and mix up spices and so on. And I shudder at the thought of instant mashed potatoes. I ain't hatin, understand. If that's how you roll, then that's how you roll. It's just not how I was raised. There's a lot of satisfaction in eating something that wasn't made in a factory. Anyways, I digress.

So these sleek beautiful pre-made blogs call me, and I think I'm going to start stealing code and trying stuff. On other people's blogs. I have too many tweaks on this one to mess with it.

Oh, that's boring, you say? Fair-weather bloggers. Maybe you'd like it better if I just stuck with mocking my husband. All in good time, all in good time.

I know that you love the brethren, and the sistren. I know that you love even the little children, and that ocassionally you take out the trash, and that your exploits in the studio are unmatched, indeed, you are the master of the recording studio.

Still, I have these things against you.

When you arise in the morning and you squeak the dresser drawers loudly and close the bathroom door so it makes a noise, I hold this against you. Indeed, although my anger is only for a moment and I might go back to sleep, except your other offenses.

For INDEED, you did turn on the overhead light and not one of the three small lamps. Not just in the room in which I sleep, but also in the living room where the oldest child lays on the couch until someone gives him permission to arise. And you did give him permission to arise, and my anger burns against you.

And though your trespasses weighed heavily against you, you did heed the decoy cries of the toddler and bid me come. And by hearing the fake cries of the toddler, you did allow him to awaken completely. My fury parallels the fire of the sun.

Now, my wrath burns and will not be held back, unless you turn from your ways and bring to me chocolate, refined by Snickers.

Had my break today. It is difficult to have 2 hours out of the house without spending $$. I ended up buying a hot chocolate and a muffin, and utilizing the comfiness of the booths at Panera. It was pretty good, I gotta tell you.

In other news, I am attempting lasagna today. And a batch of garlic bread in my breadmaker. (technically, Eva's breadmaker. But she won't ever see it again unless I get a new fancy one) I have failed on 3 loaves of bread in as many days. But this one looks like a keeper.

In other, other news, no news. Richy has been working on a recording project in the basement. It pays the bills, which is key... but it's difficult to have a vocal booth and a Toby, simultaneously. He's done with the recording part of it now, so the noise is back.

Not much for ya today, folks.

I wrote this last night for my facebook, and published it here by popular demand from my husband. In other news, I am now a redhead.

25 Random Things About Me

1. I am almost 1/2 African American
2. I was born with 3 eyes and had to have several surgeries before I came home from the hospital.
3. I once impaled myself on a paper clip and part of it remains in my stomach to this day.
4. I can run a mile in 4 minutes. (Maybe 4 1/2 now)
5. I have 9 siblings that I claim. Only my mother knows how many others there are.
6. I am a vegetarian, and I am allergic to wheat and fruit.
7. I won Miss Toddler Texas Pageant '81
8. I sang backup on 3 of Enya's albums, back when she was the rap-act InYaFace
9. I can eat with my nose.
10. I learned Spanish by watching Braveheart.
11. One of life's greatest joys for me is filling out surveys.
12. I played on the defensive line for the Packers for a couple weeks, but I got laid off.
13. I invented an early version of the iPhone, and was totally robbed by Apple.
14. I have 106 1/2 cats.
15. I have 1 pit bull and 2 hungry Rotweillers
16. I can tell time using the stars and a sheet of tin-foil. Do it every day.
17. I have survived 14 earthquakes and a small tidal wave.
18. I published a book under the pseudonym John GrishOm. Sold QUITE a few.
19. I have a tail.
20. I have a secret identity. Two, actually.
21. I used to drive an 18-wheeler, before the war.
23. I am afraid of the number 4. ((shiver))
24. I have 6 fingers on each foot.
25. I am a stickler for the truth.

---

and a little introspective journey de hair
1. hating the hair
2. dye it green in prep for dyeing it red
3. cut it whilst green
4. dye it red, but not red enough
5. Find a pretty happy red and decide to give the ol' scalp a break for a few weeks...

Today I got a haircut. The end.

Just kidding. I'll tell you all about it. Due to budgetary constraints, I once again found myself at The House of Heavelin, the local beauty school. Heaven? Helen? Heavy Lynn? Evelyn? Can't tell you, the history of the name is not to be found on its hallowed walls. Pictures of 4 inch fingernails with rhinestones and such? Check. Faded posters of the hippest haircuts of 1996? Check. Directions to the crown of the head? Check. But no history.

I have gotten my hair cut here before, and it is better than I would do, and only $5. So, it's worth it. Plus, by the time I usually get ready to spend money on a haircut, I despise my hair and would gladly burn it off with a lighter if it didn't hurt. So, not much to lose.

This time, as I walked back to the chair, two other stylists-in-training asked "You doing a cut?" to my stylist-in-training (heretofore known as SIT), in kind of a surprised or cynical tone. This did not inspire confidence in me. "You should ask Miss Victoria to help you..." they said, to the scorn and disgust of my SIT. The other two left for lunch, and it was just me and Ms. Thang, and my nerves.

You gotta understand. I can handle kinda-bad hair. I'm a rocker, see? I can put some stuff in it and act like it's what I was aiming for. Kinda-bad, yes. Scalped, no. I made some casual conversation, and learned she had been there a year, and was planning a career at Great Clips.

Lucky for me, just as my SIT was kinda haphazardly pinning my hair places, the instructor walked by and took over. As she was explaining to my SIT things like cowlicks, and layering... I was pondering within my heart... why does this last semester student not know this (I mean, I'm no cosmetologist, but it seems basic) information? I listened closer, and figured it out. See, I am a racial minority at the House of Heavelin. In fact, I was the only Caucasian customer. Things began to fall into place. Why there are none of the styling products I am used to. Why they had to go to the back for a different comb. And so on.

My SIT argued with the instructor a bit about how she had been planning to do it, but I was hanging with the instructor. Every time the instructor went to get the phone, the SIT would sigh loudly and start doing something crazy, like picking up a big chunk of hair and her scissors, and then the instructor would be back to direct her, "Now, we don't want to do that with her hair because her hair grows this direction. See? That would make her have a sprout like Alfalfa." Whew.

It ended up great, and my SIT was really happy, although she had a few things to say about the instructor when she left.

haircut: $5 +tip. Yesssssss.

Oh, and I am currently sporting a kinda sick greenish-brown color, which is what I do the day before I dye my hair red. I got a little smack at the beauty school, but when I told them my plan to not have pink hair again, they all got behind me in my goals.

This was a bit of a bummer day. Last week, our dryer died a slow and painful death. Eventually, I figured out how to take everything out of it, turn it a little (this was very hard) and then start it up on empty. Sometimes this would fake the motor out and I could then dry a half-load of clothes. Then it would stop mid-rotation and if I ran back in there every 10 minutes,I could crank it back up. So, technically, it was working.

We went to a used appliance place and bought a new one on credit. (not new, used new) It dried one glorious load before the washing machine broke.

I think it's like when a grandparent dies and the other one is so sad they just give up and die too.... kinda like that, but only not really that sad or important. But you get the general concept.

So, tonight we will be going back to the appliance place and try to convince them to trade this new dryer back and let us buy a matched set. (Why, yes, that is a grammatical horror of a sentence. Thanks for asking!)

So that's bummer 1. Bummer 2 is spending over 2 hours in a doctor's office having my babies tortured and discovering they both have RSV, and Bean has an ear infection, too. Poor little guys. So now I have a litany of drugs to dispense, as well as breathing treatments, and I am going to buy the best thermometer I can find and take R2's temps constantly...

Oh and bummer 3: new President.

Am I eating chocolate cake out of the container? I am. I dare you to stop me.

Intense (really, pretty mild) negotiations of late have led to a new plan... I get 2 two hour breaks a week. That is, 4 hours total sans kids, out of the house, in every 7 day period. I am giddy at the thought. In fact, I just returned from my 2 hours... so refreshing. Now, I'm all ready to wipe 3 continually dripping noses and change 4000 diapers.

What did you do? maybe you're asking. Or not, if you know what I always do. I went to Blue Ridge Family Thrift, my home away from home. Sometimes I go to the library, too, but today I had a coupon for a free shirt or pants... so I settled in and looked at pretty much everything. Spent 1 hour and 55 minutes, and walked a way with a killer pair of shoes and a shirt for bean. Didn't even use my coupon and spent $3.69. That's a rush.

Maybe you're all sneery now and all male like, uh, who cares... get a blog and gripe about it. This is an exciting day.

Funny, I remember being a little person in a basket getting dragged around Goodwills. I used to tell my mom, "When I get big and you get little, I will take you to Goodwill and make you wait forever..." Now, I get it. I'll tell you about it.

I look at it all. Toys, books, furniture, random plastic things, dishes, old toasters and vcrs... and I spend a lot of time in the toddler clothes. And daddy clothes, and mommy clothes, and you know, baskets and candleholders and such. Fun.

Richy and I have argued discussed many times over the years my problem just spending and getting it over with. I'll give an example. Subject A (him) and Subject B (me) are given $20 each (hypothetically) and cut loose in Target for 1 hour.

Subject A will walk directly to his department, pick up one $20 item that he isn't even sure fits, and go buy it. He will then spend the remaining 55 minutes griping about just buy something already.

Subject B will browse every department, especially clearance items, but not commit to anything until the whole store has been eliminated as the better, cheaper item. At 55 minutes, she will just be settling on which items she actually, really, really wants to spend $3.24 on. She will go 10 minutes and $10 over budget. (and have 2 bags worth of goods)

I have to know it's what I really want. So today, I browsed the same 2 shoe racks for an extended amount of time, tried on 5 pair of heels... chatted up a couple of fellow shoe shoppers, and settled on the black and silver shoes with a square toe and weird heels. (I wanted pointed toes and tiny pointed heels, but hey,I don't have What Not To Wear's budget)
I looooove. Got mixed reviews.
"Fun!" - Hannah
"Those are hooker shoes."- Daniel
"Those are ugly as sin."- the hub

Good thing I like em. The shoes, that is.


I feel like I've had a massage. I win, do you get it? I went in there and I got something I like and it hardly cost anything. Wahoo!

Today is my mama's birthday. I was trying to write some sappy poetry for her, but people keep shoving plush poodles in my face and demanding mukiks. Or climbing on my arms saying watch this and doing some pretty impressive superhero arm moves. This kind of activity KILLS my muse. Sorry, Mama.

In other news, R2 is losing weight. This is alarming, since he weighed a little more than a grasshopper to begin with. At 9.5 he had finally broken 40 pounds... we got the new booster seat and everything. And then he had the seizure and got emotional distress and now he's back down to like 36. Grr. So I have put a call in to a nutritionist, and we will be meeting with them and making a plan. In the meantime, I am consulting the Google.

So I am working on increasing the caloric content of his meals. I mix butter in with everything, and I make him eat it all, even if I have to spoonfeed him. Also, I bought a lot of high-fat snacks, but good high fats, like avocados and nuts. Oh, and I'm making him drink 2 Pediasures a day, which are about 200 calories each. It's an interesting project. Oddly, he is already looking a little healthier after only 3 days of this.

One problem: I want to eat it all. Whoda thunk that my favorite foods also happen to be high fat? I'm a shrimp, I know. But I'm getting a little meaty here, what with the cold and the baking and so on. I can't go work out, because I am a coldaphobic. (sidenote: when I googled coldaphobic to make sure I wasn't calling myself something obscene, I found this:Coulrophobia: an abnormal or exaggerated fear of clowns. Good to know.)

This post brought to you courtesy of Barney.

Well. Either my productive streak has ended, or I am just out of money. I mean, there's plenty of stuff to do around here... so maybe it's over. Or maybe it's just INSANELY cold and I am a little worn out. Whatevs. I'm still going to finish all my projects... just losing steam a little.

The exciting thing is, it's a lot easier to keep clean around here, even with just the few things I did.

I don't have much to say today, folks. I have a stack of library books and a dirty house. Hmmm. Choices.

Now, you might already know this, but I was raised by hippies. I don't remember taking naps or having a bedtime, and we never had a TV. We had monitors, and a VCR, on which I watched Annie several times a day whenever I could get away with it. But real TV, with channels, No. It was a source of pride to us... in elementary school, people would gawk in amazement. We did things like reading books. Weirdos.

Then Richy and I got married and we never had a TV, until 2000 when we moved into an apartment with free basic cable. At first I just watched the Cosby Show, which is one of the greats. Then 9/11 happened and we haunted news channels for weeks, and then kinda got in the habit of having it. Then a combination of spiritual things and moving, we went back into a tv-free zone.

Now, my siblings tend to go through these same cycles, with different degrees of ferocity. I have heard tales of Georgia throwing tvs out the window... we tend to put it in a closet until an inauguration or some such, and then it stays out for a while. Mama would have happily shot out all Daddy's monitors, if she had a gun and if Daddy would have let her. Instead, she would just stalk by his screens muttering about abominations.

So we put it away for a long time, then I got pregnant with Toby, and I lay in a bed for 4 months. If you don't know my story, I'm being literal. I was on strict bedrest for 17 weeks. I talked the MOG into buying a set of rabbit ears. It troubled him greatly, but he bought one, a fancy one from Walmart. I was so excited, we got about 4 channels. Most nights I would just watch Everybody Loves Raymond at 10 or whatever, and then American Idol happened.

I. Love. American. Idol. I love music and singing, and comedy, and competition to some degree. So there you go. And it starts tonight. Will it pain my mama to read a TV blog? Yes, yes it will. But I happen to know that she watches the Weather Channel anytime she stays in a hotel, and enjoys it. In fact, she would probably have a TV if she could just get the Weather Channel and nothing else. I'm just sayin.

I tell you what, the bloggerati gets a little testy sometimes when they're waiting for a post. Especially ANONs, not to mention any names.

Sheez Louise. I just spent a LONG time on MIL's africa blog... my brain is fried. I get all up in the html and I get all codey with it and then bam! brain explodes. So there you go.

Tomorrow morning we meet with the neurologist to try to come up with a new seizure plan. Our idea, uh, wait for the seizure to end.. will probably be met with scorn... these guys like to stop the seizure. Problem with our guy is, you have to pretty much kill him to stop the seizure, and that's not our preferred method. So.

In other news, the latest projects:

before

after

got these bins and hanging bags in the target dollar bins (which are really $2.50 bins)
and now, I will change a diaper that I can no longer ignore, and then make dinner.... you know what they say, never done and all that.

Maybe you're all on tenterhooks wondering "What, WHAT is the amazingly productive Jess® 2009 up to today?"

Well, if so, wait no longer... I'll tell you. I was up before the crack o' dawn off to the Prayer Room and then I came back and did kid stuff and went to the gym, where I did some really painful stuff my sister cooked up for me via text message. Then I came back home and did kid stuff and then I went to the thrift store and bought a file cabinet and to Walgreens and got R2's meds and then I went to Kmart and bought a can of spray paint, for the file cabinet.

THEn I came home and did an extremely poor job painting my $7 file cabinet, and now I am not doing anything. Well. I am blogging. Later, I will bring my file cabinet in and play with it and make dinner and fall asleep in my soup.

The MOG asked me something today along the lines of will I stay like this, or is it only for a little while.... I don't know. I would love to think that I just have energy now and I always will.

Then I flash back to my childhood... Mama and Daddy deciding that maybe we should make candles... and all the sudden we're driving everywhere and checking out books from the library and testing wax and fragrances and you know, making macrame or what have you. And then, we're not. Maybe we are checking out books on compost piles, or geodesic domes or something. My point is, maybe I am in the hereditary season of my life where I'm giving stuff a whirl. I'll just enjoy it while it lasts.

Oh, and thanks to Blogger's awesomeness, I have been able to import all my posts from my old blog onto this one... you can look in the "Blog Archives" menu to look around...

Spent the morning googling special needs ministries... I found a lot of churches that do have plans in place, and I sent out a lot of emails... I'm excited about what we're going to get to do here.

On the organization front, small progress today.. I fixed the boy's dresser so it once again has 3 big drawers.

Now, I am a bit of a handyman when it comes to putting our furniture together and such. I have to be, because another member of my family either a)doesn't have time or b) puts it together without reading the directions and then throws away the extra parts.
Then, when it collapses in a shambles after a week, he refers to it as, and I quote, "crappy furniture".

So it's up to me. The trouble is, these tiny cute people love me more than ever when I am using tools and tiny screws and so forth. They come and sit in my lap and kiss me and "help" me by eating staples. This makes repairs take a long, long time. You know Shiva, the destroyer god in the Hindu religion? I don't dig her, but having all those arms would come in handy for this kinda thing.

Anyhoo. The dresser is mostly fixed, functional anyways and if I am going to take a nap, I have to do so immediately now. Anyone who interrupts my nap, or more importantly, Toby's nap, will be executed by firing squad. Night!

I've been slacking on the blogging lately, because I am being so darn productive.
It comes and goes in cycles with me... I know this. I might have another week of motivation, and then kaput... it could be gone for months. So I am carping the dadgum diem and getting a lot done.

Worked out today for the first time since... I don't know. Couple of months.

So, here's some progress:
  

  

  

And a couple of works next to be in progress: these are not the scary ones, believe me.



I also did some stuff in the closets and the garage, but they are still so upside down you could send my pictures to Oprah. So no thanks. I'll show you those if they get done whilst the sun still shines.

And I'm not even approaching Toby and Bean's room yet. So many toys, so much giant furniture. Sheesh. I gotta quit thinking about it or I'll take a yearlong break.

You may not have realized this, but I am a terribly disorganized person. I come by it honest. RIP Cal Stanley.  

It's because we're geniuses, see. We just have so much going on in the ol' cooker, it is difficult to stay focused on one thing until it is done, i.e. putting whatever back after the thing we did with it.

So when I cook, it is Kitchen Chaos, in which I use every dish I own and have flour sprinkled to the heavens and such. And so on, stuff everywhere all the time.

All of my adult life, I have geeked out over homeschool moms and such with their labeled bins and whatnot. Like this:


Wow. One problem is, my brain doesn't naturally do that. Two, it costs money to buy that kinda stuff, unless you can get it at thrift stores and dollar stores and such, which would require, again, that kind of brain.

So, I have been reading Martha Stewart, (sorry Georgia and Mama, but I need the help) and other organizers and getting ideas. So it has begun. New plastic containers for sugar and flour and such, and little baskets everywhere to hold things. Not much headway yet, BUT our tea is organized.

Progress, darnit.

More on this later. All hades has broken loose and it must be dinnertime.

Why the hiatus from blogging? maybe you're asking... or, There was a hiatus from blogging? or What the heck is a hiatus? Well, I'll tell you. Except that last one. You can look it up. 

Yeah, I took a break. First, it was a holiday. Then, I hadn't accomplished any of my goals and didn't feel like blogging about it. Then, it was the weekend. 

So here I am, January 5th and not really doing anything on my list. I still want to, just not terribly motivated. 

On Saturday, we took my mostly-dead laptop to the Apple Store to see if there was any hope. The Apple Store has a feature called the Genius Bar. It is a counter staffed by people who have good skills in the Mac realm. Are they geniuses? Okay, maybe so. 

I had an appointment, but it was crazy packed in there, so I had to wait about 20 minutes just to be able to sign in. 

Apple does everything right, but the tiny little stores are maybe not their best idea. 

While I was waiting, I was people watching.... a lady in her 50s was sitting at the Genius Bar with her PC. (What the heck? I was thinking. Isn't she embarrassed?) No. She had a an iPod Touch and the Genius was transferring her songs for her, from the PC to the Touch. 

She was griping bitterly the whole time. "I mean, I bought this thing and I thought I'd enjoy it, but I spent 6 hours on it at home and I'm not getting anywhere." Guy: "What do you want it to do?" "Well, how do I make it play music?" Guy, not looking at his coworkers, "Okay, push that button there. See where it says music, on the screen there?" She does it and music is playing. 

Frustrated, she sighs heavily. "I just want this thing... I spent 6 hours and I don't think I'm going to be able to use it." About this time, a Concierge (at the Apple Store, these are the guys in the orange shirts you complain to) came and redirected her to another employee, probably a 16 year old with iPod experience. 

I know, I know. Not everybody is technologically advanced. I know that someday I will sit back with my dentures gaping as Toby reroutes a space shuttle. In fact, I can't work the 4 remotes required to watch DirecTV or whatever it is. But right now I am in my snarky youth, saying WHY WOULDN'T YOU PUSH THE MUSIC BUTTON? Anyways. 

We eventually got to our Genius, who I liked a lot despite his liberal rantings... he declared ol' iBlanca dead as a doornail. Or some such. I suspected as much. 

So I remain chained to a desk here while Toby probably feasts on apple pie while sitting on top of the refrigerator. Cest la vie.