Have I mentioned I have an addictive personality?

My current obsession is chess. I had no idea how to play until Lina taught me how while we were on the cruise. We had so much fun that we decided to buy our own, and, naturally, no set other than a Harry Potter set would do, so I hunted around on eBay until I found one for a reasonable price. It came in the mail last week and we play all the time.

Either I am not very good at chess, or my children are geniuses. Probably both. Lina beat me twice yesterday and today I taught Huck how to play and I barely beat him. That particular game was 40 minutes of me trying to out think the boy!

Lina has a great poker face. She lets me think I'm all amazing by taking out her pawns when she is watching and planning three moves ahead. I lose to her before I even know I am danger of it. By the time she says "check", I'm locked and she's got me.

All together, in just one day, between Lina and me, Huck and me, and Lina and Huck, there were 8 games of chess played at Nestlewood. It's a good thing I am not the only spaz around here.

Telling it like it is?

I think I just may win the mama of the year prize for this one. The kids and I were grocery shopping and Lina was crossing the things off my list as we threw them in the buggy. I asked her to tell me what all was left. She read everything aloud, but then muttered "tampons" where only we could hear. Huck then said at his normal 25 decibels, "Oh yeah, those things you put in your coochie when you're on your period".

Nice.

Twice in Three Days...

Chris has a subscription to Men's Health (how gay is he, I ask you?) Lo and behold when I saw it while looking through the mail today, who was on the cover? My very own Gerry Butler! Mineminemineminemine.

I actually gasped when I saw it. Lina and Huck were doing homework in the living room, heard my sharp intake of breath and asked me what was wrong. Naturally, I had to take the magazine to them and show them exactly why I gasped. They are so used to my obsessive neurosis that they just rolled their eyes and got back to their homework.

Chris is so sweet. When I told him about my reaction he said I could keep that issue for my very own. I could even keep it under the mattress where all the other special stuff...nevermind, that's personal.

mineminemineminemine

My Redneck past is nipping at my heels

So, I'm doing my part in the lettuce, water and exercise thing by taking my power walk/jog on the gravel road on which 4 families (including mine), many goats, dogs, cats and chickens live. I often do this, and have done for lo, these many years. Apparently, the chickens have had enough of me.

I'm no stranger to chickens, having kept 17 of our own right here at Nestlewood. But all the stray dogs, weasels and fox around here polished them off for their morning or afternoon meals one by one, and we decided not to get anymore because Chris is a freak about the bird flu (don't ask).

There are always a couple of roosters who flap their wings at me while I walk and do their "Rrrr-rr-rrr-rrrrr". (Roosters do not say cocka doodle doo. I have no idea from whence this legend came) I always ignore the roosters because I know how they can be. They all have Little Man Syndrome, with the one who is not the dominant in the flock being especially touchy. He wants to prove his cockiness at every opportunity.

I am walking, and he crows at me, but I'm used to this. This time, just to be friendly and to let him know that I think he is just as manly as the rooster who is servicing all the hens up the gravel road, I said "Hi chick chick". Oh, my Mother Teresa in diamonds and fur!!! He came after my ass! He raised up his wings ( to get better aerodynamics I suppose) and ran his little rooster legs as fast as they would go. I started running full out, screaming and running! I'm halfway thinking about my Red Belt in Tung Soo Do and that surely I can take him out, but I'm just too scared to stop running and get into an effective front stance. Every time I would glance over my shoulder (while still running and screaming) that Mother Scratcher would still be chasing me!

Tomorrow, when I take my walk, I'm either taking a weapon or a stronger constitution.

As Granny used to say, "Shit or get off the pot."

Now that I am gainfully employed, I hereby declare there shall be no more excuses. I MUST reduce the square footage of my ass. I used all of my school and job angst as a handy dandy excuse to stop exercising. I went from running 10 miles per week and whaling hell out of my punching bag, to taking lots of naps and sitting on the couch as much as possible.

I done did what I shouldn't of done. I done got lazy. I've become a veritable Three Toed Sloth, the world's slowest mammal, so sedentary that algae grows on its furry coat.

Since the very thought of running makes me want to hang myself, I shan't do it. I shall, however, Power Walk with 10 lbs of weights strapped to my arms. It's a start.

Guess What

IgotajobIgotajobIgotaJob! The offer was made yesterday afternoon, for about 6K more per year than I was expecting. The hours are M-F 8-4:30 and the hospital is about 20 minutes from my house. I will have my very own office with my very own bathroom! It's a low volume hospital (about 150 beds). I will be Coding about 85% of the time and whatever else needs to be done the other 15%. I went today for my drug test and background check, but since I don't do drugs and have no criminal record, it should be fine.

AND! Back in February, we used our tax refund and booked a family cruise to Mexico for the 3rd week of September. So within just a couple of weeks of starting work, I will immediately have to take 4 days off. The boss said that since it was prebooked and I told her ahead of time, it's fine, and that if I need to, I can come in the weekend after we return to get caught up. Wow!

I'm so tickled, but I keep waiting for someone to call me and say "Psyche!" Chris said "It isn't as though this is just a good karma gift from the Universe. You have worked your ass off for three years with no breaks to get to this point."

True, but I'm just so overwhelmingly grateful and thrilled it just doesn't seem possible that I'm really going to be paid good money to do something I enjoy doing!

What must his teachers think of us?

Huck brought home a notebook in which he was practicing his writing and creativity. Here is his entry:

Yanky doodle went to mars riding on a rocket
stuck his head up his butt and saw some hershys choklate
Yanky doodle keep it up yanky doodle dandy
all the work that you have done and now you'll get some candy

It's 3AM and I'm not lonely

I woke up a couple of hours ago thinking about Edward VIII and Wallis Warfield Simpson. I told myself that I should go back to sleep, curled up in the bed for about 30 minutes and it didn't happen so I got up.

I think I have realized why insomnia is kind of okay with me. It's my time. No kids need anything, husband doesn't need anything from me, the phone is not going to ring. As long as I'm quiet and don't wake anybody up, my time is my own. The fact is, I've been "on call" 24/7, for nearly 11 years, since Thumbelina was born. Really, no one but a mother can understand that statement. The "where-are-the-kids-and-what-do-they-need" radar blipped on in the Fall of 1997, and it hasn't been off since.

This covers everything from meeting their basics (nourishment, cleanliness and warmth) to being careful what I watch or read or say around them. In the wee small hours of the morning, I know the babies are fine and will likely sleep for at least a few more hours. Chris is at work and won't be home for a few more hours. The whole wide world assumes I'm fast asleep. So, these middle of the night wanderings are my own little private world, where it's just me and my thoughts.

Insomnia, Party of Two

I'm going on an interview tomorrow (well, in about 4 hours actually). The hospital is about 15 miles from home, but when home is Nestlewood, which is on the back 40 of everywhere, 15 miles is "just next door".

The thing is, I have to take another 3 hour test. People. Did I or did I not just graduate Cum Laude with a freakin' degree? Why must I keep taking all these tests? I want to work in the Medical Records department of a hospital. Medical. Records. I will save no lives, the fate of the world will not rest on my shoulders. WTF with all these tests? And? And!! I have a national board exam scheduled for August 11, as if I didn't have enough tests to worry about!

Oh, law! You know what else? Sure, I am an insomniac, but now Huck is too. It's 3AM and I'm piddling at the computer, hoping I will get sleepy sometime in the near future, and I hear the pitter patter of his feet. He woke up and came to my room to crawl in the bed with me and couldn't find me. Understand, now, Lina and Pebbles (my dog) were already in my bed, having awakened to find Mama. Chris works 3rd shift, so I called him while he was at work and started the conversation with "why do I have to keep taking these freakin' tests?" To which he replied "Honey-darlin-sweetie-love. It's 3 in the morning." And then the phone rang in his department and he had to go and save someone's life, so I was on my own.

Oh, wait, I'm not on my own. Huck just came to me and said that he will just watch TV until I come back to bed. My reply? "Okay, just not Adult Swim", which he says is hilarious...Did I mention it's 3AM?

The whole reason I woke up in the first place is because I was dreaming of serial killers who knocked on doors in the middle of the night. Whoever answered was their next victim. Unfortunately, I and an intern from the TV show "ER" (which I haven't watched since Dr. Greene died) answered the door and were naive enough to go with them when they said they needed help. Then the killers proceeded to paint our faces with some sort of plaster medium to preserve them as death masks.

And I'm having a hot flash. The area under my boobs is soaked, as is my scalp. And my crotch, and my nightgown, for that matter.

Reality Bites

This image is from the movie Enchanted. If you have ever watched anything by Disney, you will appreciate the humor and irony and tongue in cheek of this movie.

Here's my trouble. There is enough little girl left in me that I want to be Giselle. I want to wear pretty dresses and be completely guileless and captivating, singing all the time and be able to talk to chipmunks. Instead, I'm 35 years old with a body like something from a Dr. Seuss book, courtesy of 2 c-sections.

Oh well. I can sing like a Disney character and have great hair.

A Leading Lady

I often indulge myself with Autumn and Winter movies this time of year. It helps me get through the months of temps in the 90s, because I am NOT a hot weather person. Why I live in Alabama is often beyond me. Honestly, the high today in Inverness, Scotland is 55*F. That's just about perfect.

Anyhoo, I have been a big boil of depression, just waiting to burst. No job, everyone dumps their children on me. I averaged 5 a day last week. I actually prepared 15 plates per day for all these kids, not counting the Popsicles and apple juice and Kool Aid and snacks! What am I, a lunchroom lady?

So, I'm watching The Holiday and Kate Winslet's character realizes that she is playing the part of the "best friend" in the movie of her life, instead of the "leading lady". Well, hell.

Come.To.Jesus. That is exactly what I am doing. I'm waiting on Dream Job to call me, rather than sending out more resumes. I'm wallowing and blue. No more. Nay! I shall take today to rest and indulge, recover from my past few days of bleak. Tomorrow, the proverbial pavement and I are ONE.

Best Friend no longer. I am jumping back in to my luminescent personality, as a Leading Lady.

Nobody Loves Me, Everybody Hates me, I Think I'll Eat Some Worms

I STILL don't have a job! What's up with that? My self esteem is currently crossing the Styx.

I have been so neurotic the past week or so. Between the staph infection, the monthly girly hormones and the job angst, I am positively toxic.

Jack Be Nimble Jack Be Quick, Jack Go Under Limbo Stick

Limbo, n. pl. lim·bos
1. often Limbo Roman Catholic Church The abode of unbaptized but innocent or righteous souls, as those of infants or virtuous individuals who lived before the coming of Christ.
2. A region or condition of oblivion or neglect: Management kept her promotion in limbo for months.
3. A state or place of confinement.
4. An intermediate place or state.

I went on an interview with Dream Job yesterday. I should hear something by the end of next week. When the Director of Health Information called me to interview, it made me so giddy that Chris and I just had to jump up and down, with him saying "You SO have this job", and then, "OMG you SO have this job!"

Today was the interview. When I sat down in the director's office, she smiled at me and said "I have to ask you standard interview questions and write down your answers".

What does that mean? Does it mean the job is mine and she just has to go through the formalities? At one point in the interview (which lasted about 40 minutes) she laughed and said "You tickle me", which, in Southern-ese means "you are so funny".

Oh, law! I have to wait a week!