Is it time to re-run this again? I believe so. The asthma (knock wood) seems to be under control, but it’s on my mind. Our yard squirrel, the one who jealousy guards the compost bin — it’s his. All his. Get away — is fighting with a plastic bread wrapper, in an attempt to get the bread out of it. (Why did I throw plastic bags filled with bread crusts, cilantro-gone-bad, and parsley-gone-bad into the yard? Because I was too lazy to walk to the compost bin, that’s why. Why is the house a mess? Because I work too much and am never home. Yard? Does need to be mowed, thanks. Garden? Halfway planted. Halfway only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, y’know?)

We’ve decided to start playing tennis, the four of us. I’ve played tennis maybe three times in my life. Possibly four.

I’m expecting a few people for a school planning meeting to come by in an hour. My kitchen is covered in sugar ants. My family? Sleeping like angels. Why didn’t I stay in bed? Yes, worry reduction, please:

Worry Reduction Techniques

1. When I find myself worrying, I will divert my attention from the future (or past) to the present.
2. The worst is very unlikely to occur, even if it does, I will handle it.
3. I will try to take one thing and one day at a time.
4. Relaxation will reduce both worrying and anxiety.
5. I will do planning but reduce my worrying.
6. Worry is irrelevant.
7. I am not in charge of anyone else’s thoughts, feelings and behaviors.
8. People and situations do not upset me, I do.
9. I will recognize and let go of those things that I cannot change.
10. I will stop worrying now.

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internets, i would like to blog, but i still feel like hell. Also, why did I work today? Zip said, It will be too much. Steve said, It will be too much. They were right. Again.

Finally watched Juno, it was good. And started in on Season Two of the Wire, which, when you’re coming out of anesthetic, is just not so much fun to watch. Dead bodies and all. The new episode of the Office last night made me sad. I love the Office — do not make me sad, Office. You are there to entertain, got it?

I can’t concentrate on books — the words go all swimmy together.

Maybe it’s the anesthetic talking, I’ve got no idea.

Off to change back into p.j.’s. Leave me notes if you want, I’ll check in later.

yours,

wm

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You’ll find a post from me that will make you itch if you click here.

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Some mornings it’s best you don’t know that (more…)

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I love you for a lot of reasons, My Blog and BlogWorld.

1. I just found out that my auntie (my husband’s aunt) from Pittsburgh, Pa., and some of the women at her office read my blog! Hi Ladies (and Gents?) of Allegheny County! Leave me a comment. You can make up names (I did!), I don’t care. I am comment lover. (Me, as a child: “I’m dancing! Look at me! I’m siiiiiiiiiiinging, la la la…”) I am glad you’re here. (more…)

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1) It’s hot and I am sticky.

2) My husband is going to be so sorry he put Hormonal Woman in charge of balancing the checkbook, paying the loans and credit cards OFF and slamming money as fast as I can into savings, one nickel at a time.

After this, nothing but soup for you, buddy.

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Here, dear readers — My day in real time.

Sort of.

5, 6, 7 & 8 a.m.: Sleeping. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Large Wacky Cat 2, the stripedy one, pins me in on one side; muscular husband pins me in on the other. Why does the Cat want to sleep with us? It’s so flippin’ hot. Unable to move. Sex? No. Have to sleep. Can’t open eyes. Consider a new lifestyle that involves not staying up so late at night. Hmmm. What time did we go to bed? Vaguely remember 11 o’clock news. Keep eyes closed. Sleep. (more…)

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It will be Monday morning. You will be mowing your lawn and weeding. Because you were too busy reassembling the house Saturday and cooking, doing laundry and dealing with a vomiting kid on Sunday (Happy Father’s Day! Arf.) to mow over the weekend. Also, you wanted your husband to have the weekend off, but instead you worked him like a dog and put him in charge of vomiting kid.

You might feel a little bad about this. Or you might not.

“No, you can’t have mac and cheese. Let’s see if you can keep the toast down, first.” (Moments like that I adore my husband. I had no idea what love was until the first time one of the kids caught the flu and he took care of them.)

The neighbor dog will be yipping at you. You will be a little concerned that the crazy door-to-door salesman (”Ma’am! I’m not selling anything!”) who came by last week and refused to leave your porch will return.

Salesman-Who-Is-Not-Salesman: “This is my job.”

You will be wearing your husband’s sweats and a stinky v-neck white T-shirt (Hanes) and the lawnmower will start smoking and there will be four guys from the City of Portland (”The City That Works!” The city that works my frickin’ nerves, make that) and they will be parked on their fat asses on the neighbors retaining wall at the end of the street, checking you out.

You will ignore them.

They will continue to take a break and stare. For 20 minutes they sit there, bs’ing and staring.

Apparently sweaty housewives cussing at their lawnmowers are all the rage.

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My temp job ended today, and no new job is in sight. That’s OK. I type for a living, remember? I just get paid in love bucks. I’ve started hunting for an agent again, in earnest. Wish me luck. I have a completed fiction manuscript, this blog (I think it would make a nifty parenting manual and/or memoir), a children’s story (in English and Spanish!) and a few essays. And my left kidney. Something will sell.

So, for now, goodbye work. Goodbye desk and my own coffee mug and a paycheck every other week. Goodbye, vending machines. Goodbye loud, funny, amazing co-workers who said things like, “Great shoes!” and “I like that skirt,” and “Wow, you type really fast! I wish I typed fast like that…” without even knowing how much it would mean to me.

These recipes are both from Zip, who always comes through:

Cheese Straws
Makes at least 10 servings

1/2 pound cheddar or other hard, flavorful cheese
1/3 pound parmesan cheese
2 cups all-purpose flour
Pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 cup chilled butter (1 stick), cut into chunks, plus a little more for greasing the baking sheet
Few drops ice water, if necessary
Coarse salt (optional)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Grate cheese by hand or in food processor and place in bowl. Pulse flour and cayenne in food processor. Add butter and process until butter and flour are combined. Pulse in cheese.

Turn dough out onto counter or cutting board and knead by hand, adding a few drops of ice water if necessary. (You may wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 2 days, taking it out for about a half hour before proceeding.)

Roll out into a rectangle about 1/4 inch thick on a lightly floured surface or between 2 sheets of plastic wrap, then cut into 1/2-inch-wide strips as long as you like. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet and sprinkle with salt, if using. Bake until golden brown, 5 to 8 minutes. Serve hot, warm or at room temperature.

Crockpot Vegan Chili

1 can vegetable broth
2 cans kidney beans, drained, rinsed
1 can garbanzo beans, drained
2 cans chopped tomatoes in puree
1 can whole kernel corn, drained
1 onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon basil
1 tablespoon oregano

Combine ingredients in crockpot, heat on high to start, then low for at least 2 hours.

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Dear World Wide Web,

I’m tired. I’m working full-time the next two weeks, still waiting to hear on permanent jobs, the kids are getting out of school for the summer soon, we have swim lessons ending and starting right up again, a house torn apart from our awesome painter (no you can’t have his number, I’m keeping him just for us)… weeds to pull, laundry to hang out, fifty more dollars’ worth of gas for the car? Sure thing!

God. I remember having two measly bucks, coasting my Dodge Dart into the gas station for a drink, and praying the attendant would take pity on me and give me an extra buck’s worth. I am that old.

Speaking of — my birthday is coming up. I will be 43. My mother assures me this is not old at all and to please shut up.

A brief round-up, and then I am off to do more laundry and try to figure out where my purse is. (I mean it when I say the house is torn apart. I saw my purse yesterday and haven’t seen it since.) Also, the floors? Trashed. Cooking? Not happening. Dishes? Piled up. So what do you do when you can’t deal with your own house? Go look at the homes of Others. Others Who Can Afford Gardeners and Maids.

My mom and I went on a great tour of gardens this afternoon. My new loves: Baggesen’s Gold shrub honeysuckle, California incense cedar, honey locust, climbing hydrangea, verbena, hostas, candy hearts, clematis… I got so many ideas from the three places where we stopped, I do not know where to start. Perhaps with art. My favorite garden was stuffed full of tiny and big sculptures, pieces of blown glass, decorative stepping stones, everything. It was delightful and a little kooky. But in a genuinely kooky way, not a “Look at me, I’m so kooky!” way. I do not like the “deliberate kook” she is not my style. Wacky Girl went with us and fell in love with the bus stop-sized outdoor hangout that had benches, pillows and shade and everything she’s ever dreamed of, and was just the right size for an almost-8-year-old.

I liked the greenhouse next to it. Ahhhh…

And… in lieu of a real review… next to the DVD player and and next to the nightstand at Wacky House we have:

Punk Rock Dad, by Jim Lindberg (Pennywise lead singer) — totally hilarious read. I’ll give it a full review soon (with help from the Pink-Haired Housewife, I’m hoping) but in the meantime — go pick up a copy. Pick up two and give the extra to a friend. Perfect baby shower gift, anniversary gift or birthday present for the dads (and moms) out there. He’s such a good writer, and so funny.

When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, a Spike Lee Joint, Pick up a copy of this one, too. And please do not forget, when you’re thinking about Darfur and orphans abroad and the movie stars who love them — New Orleans and the South still desperately need our help. Do what you can and do it now.

Sunshine State, directed by John Sayles

Strictly Ballroom, directed by Baz Luhrmann

Onions in the Stew, by Betty MacDonald

Blood Diamond, directed by Edward Zwick

(Yeah, try to figure out how my brain works based on that list.)

Love,

WM

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