Would you believe me if I told you it was Netflix's fault?

It's a good thing consistent blogging is not my real job.  And, let's not get into a discussion about:  What is my real job?

So, I've blogged like twice in the last month and a half?

Seriously.  I've considered shutting down my blog a lot during the past few months.  The problem is I cannot figure out how to transfer everything over to my 1991 Commodore without it completely blowing out the hard drive (kidding, but I do lack the technological skills and my laptop is almost that old).

So, here I am.

Netflix decided to release the third (?) season of Damages.  Freakin' finally (after I had completely forgotten what the f*ck happened in season one and two).  And then they released the third season of The Killing.  This is still sucking my time in a sickeningly enriching and enjoyable way.  Just last night I told hubby that when he dies I am totally stalking Holder.  Probably until I am jailed. 

And then Halloween happened somewhere in there.  Then after weeks of being smug about not getting sick like other (weaker) people and having a superior immune system - I got sick.  And, throughout all of this my Boy Child has had a teensy bit of an adjustment period...ahem...two months...ahem...to middle school.  I've had to navigate that complicated road between Helicopter Mom and Delinquent/Meth Mom.  That.  is.  time.  consuming.

What else?  Oh, yeah.  I have four kids and I painted my Yukon Cornelius yellow and threw up a taxi sign on top.

Cheesus.

Anyway.  I go to blog and here's what happens:

1.  Instead I clean out my 1044 emails because I am sick and tired of searching for that one email that is offering me a million dollars.  This takes about eight hours because I get distracted with wondering Do I want to improve my sex life?  And:  The fact that I have maybe 10 friends, so who are all these emails from?  Oh, yeah.  Some Russian chick wanting to be friends and that guy in South Africa who says we're related and needs my social security number (note to self:  I could totally have way more than 10 friends).

2.  I decide to make dinner (in which the smoke alarms signals it's ready).  True Story:  The five year old no longer responds at all when the smoke alarm goes off.  She asked me yesterday if it meant that I was cooking.  Thanks.

3.  I decide to clean the five year old's room (which has not been done since the last Saturday in August).  There are brand new clothes (summer clothes?) still in the bags (which my wonderful house cleaner has carefully hung on hangers in her closet).  Um, embarrassing.

4.  I decide to wash the Yukon.  During which time we find:  a half a sandwich (thank God it looked like peanut butter and jelly - which never really goes bad, right?), one apple (at least I think it was an apple?), numerous Craisins (seriously - a lot - I probably could have bagged them up and returned them to Costco - WTF?  - they cost too much to be wandering loose in the Yukon), seven paperclips (next time I'll just go to the Yukon when I need one), a jacket that's been missing since we went on summer vacation, and lots of homework papers.  Um, Boy Child?  Are those yours?

5.  I decide to change the calendar.  Which causes me to ponder the last month and think about how much I love Halloween and hate Christmas, which makes me sad, and guilty, and want to work on the family budget, which makes me sick, which makes me want to write down all the people I will give gifts to, which makes me shorten the list, which makes me really dread Christmas and wish Halloween could be twice, which makes me feel guilty, which makes me want chocolate, which makes me write chocolate down on the list, which makes me remember to update the calendars.

6.  I decide that instead of blogging what I really want to do is read all the blogs I love.  I get through one, laugh a lot, and then decide again to shut down my blog because I am not as good as all the people I love to read. 

7.  I download MayMyRun and MyFitnessPal (apparently "Pal" means Nazi-friend who chides your every bite).  After running for nearly all my life, I finally take the advice of a friend and download an app which virtually runs for me.  But, not quite.  I still have to get up and run.  Damn it.  I quickly became obsessed not with actually working out, but with knowing everything about my working out (mainly the fact that I am not working out).  How is this helpful?  Here's the app I want:  The one that works out and eats right for you while you are um, working and sleeping and catching up on Netflix?

8.  I look over at my enormous pile of prints and feel overwhelmed with guilt.  So, I actually work.  At what I get paid for.  Yeah.  Someone please give me a million dollars.  Wait.  Where's that email?

I'm no NOBLO MOFO (similar to NANOWRIMO, but you don't need to see a doctor for it).  And like the alcoholic I am taking it one day at a time.  I can only say I am sober blogging today. 

I've missed you blogosphere and I hope to see more of you soon.  Now, for the love of Pete, go do something useful!

The Little Witch. Indeed.

Happy Halloween, guys!  I miss you!

I got this gem from The Bloggess' s post today.  If you don't read her, you should.  This video kind of says it all. 

Happy hauntings!

Short list.

1.  It's October 11 and I am still trying to decide on a costume.

2.  Despite the pile of prints, the uncertainty of the future, the fact that Boy Child has developed a high schooler's attitude while just starting middle school, and my ridiculously early "winter" weight gain, I am trying to be fully in the Spirit (the Halloween Spirit).

3.  We are trying to spend money only on "essentials" right now due to some business dealings we will have in the near future.  I am trying to convince hubby that this crazy person at Spirit Halloween  (for the low, low price of $99) is an "essential."

4.  Why can't money grow on trees?

5.  Would it be weird to ask hubby for this guy for Christmas? 

6.  I listened to my first book on tape.  It was Water For Elephants which I have been trying to read since 2006.  I know I'm late to the party - but it is a fabulous book.  If you haven't read it - do it as soon as possible.  But, here's the thing.  Listening to any book on tape (not like in a car on a cross-country trip) would probably make me feel old.  This particular book made me feel ancient.  (And blind.)

7.  Having children much later in life is not without its awkward embarrassments.  Every time I have been up to the middle school I see parents that I mistake for students.  So, I can only imagine they are mistaking me for the grandparent?  (Don't answer that.)

8.  I felt mildly successful that I had convinced my entire family to go scary for Halloween this year.  It's always been my dream, but it's never happened before.  Partly because it's difficult (and possibly traumatizing?) to convince a three and then four year old that she wants to be a zombie and not a princess.  But, now that she's FIVE she totally consented to being a zombie witch.  I'm not even sure what that is, but when she asked me today if her face could be painted pink instead of white with blood (which is what I told her it would be) I said, "Um.  No." 

9.  After all my diligence and persuasion in convincing my whole family to go scary, my kids have been singing this incessantly for about two weeks.  Now I kinda want our family to be this for Halloween:  

Damn the internet for trying to screw with my dreams.

10.  Since Halloween is my favorite holiday and our dogpuppy aims to contradict me every chance he gets, it totally figures that he's scared of Halloween decorations.  I have to drag him by this guy

Just a dead guy with his head in his hands.  No big.

to take him on a run everyday and when I do he first looks at me like this:

"Mother!  Save me from the dead guy!  Oh, and I HATE HALLOWEEN!"

And then quickly crosses behind me in order to get as far away from the dead guy as possible.  As much as I am beginning to love this dog if he can't learn to love Halloween and all it's gore soon, he may have to move out.

Keep your spirits up guys and try not to eat all the candy before Halloween.

If you can read this, you're too close.

So, there's nothing like a trip to the ophthalmologist that will make you feel 114 years old and make you feel like you are in poor health and might die.  Soon.

As many of you know I got a clean bill of health from my M.D. last week when I went for a physical for the first time in about 20 years (so, yes, my last physical was when I was 10).  She basically said that I should be good to go for the next 20 years.  Well, she didn't actually say that, but I figure since I'd taken charge of my own health for 20 years and stayed fairly healthy, I can probably manage it for another 20 years.  And, I should have probably been a doctor, and made a lot of money, and not had any time to write a blog about it because I would be too busy saving people's lives and writing medical books.  (She didn't say that, but I did.) 

Without boring you with the intimate (and quite disgusting) details, I will tell you briefly that I am suffering (relatively, because we all know suffering is relative) from vertigo (also called dizziness - which I have suffered from my whole life). 

Now, (in my vast medical experience) there are a few reasons one can experience vertigo:  you have an excessive amount of alcohol in your system, you have a tumor in your brain and have about two weeks left to live (and if that's currently happening to anyone reading this, I'm sorry, for kinda making a joke about it), you are anemic (which, of course, in the blood draw in which I had to postpone my coffee IV, anemia was not screened), you are just plain dizzy and there is no cure, (in which case the doctor just says, Sorry?  I guess?) OR, your body is special, in a way that will not impress men, and your ears produce an excessive amount of ear wax which completely blocks your ear drum (making hearing nearly impossible) and causes vertigo.......wait.  Did I say I wasn't going to bore you with intimate and disgusting details?  Okay, sorry.  So, I had my eardrum scraped (yes, it was more painful than natural child birth and I *might* have screamed it was all hubby's fault and that I wanted an epidural) and yes the vertigo has subsided somewhat. 

But because not every cloud has a silver lining, yesterday I found out I might die, so basically we are back to square one.

Okay, so fast forward to yesterday at the eye doctor. 

1.  I hate the eye doctor, but I go once a year because I have a fear of going blind.  (Which turns out might actually be one of my valid fears.)  And I also am vain and have to have a current contact prescription.
2.  I watch WAY too much SVU and am convinced that the doctor is going to be a serial rapist and that a dark room is the perfect context for this to occur.  (I realize this is completely sick, but I have had these conversations in my head.  More than once.)
3.  I abhor the following:  Is 1 better or 2?  3 or 4?  5 or 6?  Okay, how about now?  Is it A or B?  B or C?  Seriously?  I find myself nervous and sweating during this part of the exam (and it's not because I might be raped).  It's just like the SAT all over again.  I know.  Insane.
4.  I don't really trust eye doctors, and that's really difficult to reconcile with my fear of going blind and my vanity.
5.  I spend all my time (when I am supposed to be picking A or B) thinking What's my nearest weapon in case he starts $hit? and How much did all this equipment cost?
6.  If it's been awhile since you've been to the eye doctor - times have changed.  It's mostly all flat computer screens and remote controls.

Yesterday the doctor looked to be about 87 and was quite frail, so I wasn't really worried about being raped.  I did, however, fail the double vision test and I also spent an excessive amount of time thinking about the cost of all that equipment (the letters are now on a flat computer screen which is mounted to the wall and I would be willing to trade it for my 1970's console TV even if all it played was letters).

Just like I imagine the minutes right before the doctor sees cancer growing in your brain, the doc paused during my double vision test and said slowly, "How about now?  Do the lines come together now?"

I think he wanted me to say yes, but truthfully the lines were still not together, so naturally I was nervous and sweating and I said, "Well, that made them ooch together a teensy bit, but no, they're still not together."

So, then he flipped the lights on and said, "Are you familiar with Bell's Palsy?"

Wow.  That's a conversation starter, eh?  How do you go from lines on the stupid flat screen to Bell's Palsy?  I thought, "Clearly he's senile.  I am not paying for this exam."

But, just to amuse him I said yes and he proceeded to run down a list of (I suppose) symptoms of early onset Bell's Palsy and did I have any of them.  While he was doing this my mind wandered (shocker, I know) to a gal I knew in college who had Bell's Palsy.  I made a mental note to look her up on Facebook.  I also was a tad offended when he said that most people's faces were symmetrical and mine clearly wasn't.  Hey, now!  I thought this was the eye doctor, not Project Runway.  Then my mind wandered to a time when hubby and I and some good friends were all sitting around partaking and the subject of facial symmetry came up.  My face was voted the least symmetrical and it was concluded that I would never be a model because of this.  Again, shocker.  I probably did not need 12 beers to figure that out.

So, one of the apparent symptoms of Bell's Palsy is short term memory loss.  He asked me (seriously) if I had experienced it.  HELLO?  This made me sit up straight in my chair.

I paused when he asked this because my mind was just careening out of control.  Here is the path it was going on:

1.  I HAVE BELL'S PALSY?  JESUS H. CHRIST.  HOW MUCH TIME DO I HAVE???
2.  What have I forgotten today?  Short list:  The appointment, the directions, my phone, dinner.
3.  I thought I was here for a freaking EYE EXAM.  Turns out I am getting a death sentence.

So, after I thought all that I calmly (and smartly) said (hoping he hadn't noticed the pause before responding), "No, not really.  I remember most things.  I guess.  Most important things.  Well, some important things.  Y'know sometimes I forget things.  Just things mostly that don't matter.  Much.  Wait.  Who are you?  Why are we here?"

He ordered a second double vision screening for me.

I passed the second one.  Kinda.  Mostly.

Turns out I have a titch of double vision (don't worry, I only see one of you right now - and by the way, GET DRESSED ALREADY), but I have a pre-melanoma on my EYEBALL.

Seriously?  Did you know you could have a pre-melanoma on your eyeball?  Do you really even know anyone who's ever had this?  Did they get cancer in their EYE and are they dead?  (Sorry.  Kinda.)

So, let's recap.  These past two weeks I've:

1.  Done an insightful political analysis in which I vetted (kinda) and selected a running mate who is currently designing my yard signs (maybe).
2.  Gotten a clean bill of health from my M.D. aside from my (improving) vertigo which may or may not kill me.
3.  I have been told I look or seem like I have Bell's Palsy because my face is not symmetrical and I don't remember who I am.  (To which I scoff and say, "Duh.  At least I'm running for office.  Of something.  On a platform of beer and forgetfulness.  Was that my platform?")
4.  I have made my home excessively ghoulish and gaudy for the upcoming election (and Halloween) and now I am not even the least bit apologetic to my neighbors because I might die.



Scarier than Halloween and the upcoming election.

Have a great weekend!  I'll try to remember to do the same while avoiding an early death and managing to squeeze a few more monsters in the front yard.

Halloween. Not necessarily for the kids.

This is what I love about Halloween:

The real thing.

Resemblance shocking.

Oh my.  Hope yours was ghastly.

nothing says Happy Halloween like calling 911 from the corn maze.

In case you missed it:

My sister constantly scourges the Internet looking for bizarre tidbits that I need to know (but not at work - because then she would be fired). I got this yesterday afternoon from her and I am sorry that when I got it the Baby was having a meltdown because I wouldn't let her eat candy before dinner. I had to ignore Baby until I finished laughing (which was just a few minutes ago).

I am forced to surmise that first 911 call since we don't have the transcript from that one.

Operator: 911. What's your emergency?

Woman in distress: Hello, 911? I'M STUCK IN A CORN MAZE.

Operator (signaling for all his fellow operators to huddle near the phone in a "get a load of this" motion): You say you're stuck in a corn maze?

Woman in distress: YES.

Operator (holds hand over receiver to stifle wild laughter from him and his co-workers): Ma'am, I'm not sure I understand the nature of the emergency. Aren't people supposed to get stuck in corn mazes?

Woman in distress: Yes, but I am with my two children - one is a newborn - and I can't find the way out.

Operator (trying to concentrate as his fellow operators frantically scribble things on cue cards for him to say, "ARE YOU NUTS?" "WHAT KINDA CRAZY IS THIS?" "WHERE THE F IS THE HIDDEN CAMERA?": Okay. (swallowing hard) Is anyone with you besides your children?

Woman in distress: Well, my husband is here.

Click.

My sister and I decided several things via email this morning:

1. We agree this indeed was a "nightmare" and this woman needs to keep her post-partum crazy HOME.
2. We are both happy that she is not a close friend. But, part of us (okay maybe just me) wish we knew her just so that we could say, "I like you, but you are FREAKIN' NUTS!"
3. We agreed to be careful in the future when calling 911 because it might be on msnbc later and cause embarrassment to our friends.
4. The humor in: "She takes the baby out ONE time and now the whole family is traumatized." was not lost on us. "That will teach her to take the baby out." (And, I am quoting my sister, not myself - I would never be that sarcastic...that was sarcasm, right?)
5. (And my sister didn't actually agree to this one, but I know she will once she reads my post.) I may want to call this-kinda-crazy Flowers in the Attic Crazy.
6. We think possibly her husband had no sense of direction......Therefore he was.............another woman?

On the other hand, I am going to see if I can friend Bob Connors on Facebook because he sounds like a happy picnic. What I know about him that makes me want to be his friend (virtually and otherwise): he wanted people to get lost in his corn maze, he made it in the shape of the Headless Horseman, he likes to give people their money's worth (who wouldn't love that?), he has a "funny feeling" that because of this "harrowing journey" it's going to be a "busy season."

That is all.