Hear the small...

...blue birds flitting around my head, wispering sweet nothings into my lovely pink seashell of an ear?

Me neither.

I woke up, sorta on time, if by on time, you mean, when Marilou knocked on the front door to drop off Question Man. Nothing screams WHITE TRASH like standing on your front porch, smoking with a friend, at 7:20 in the morning, while wearing a purple shirt, with a ratty (but, gogs, so damn comfy) black sweater, and pink and black Nightmare Before Christmas PJ pants. Watch out neighbors, don't piss me off, or this little freak show could show up on YOUR porch one morning.

My period arrived yesterday, with nary a whisper of discomfort, no cramps that feel more like a vise grip around my mid-section, with shooting pains down my legs. I though to myself, "Self, perhaps the universe is aware that you have absoltely no time to sit on the couch with a heating pad, eating motrin like they're bonbons".

Instead, it just decided to mindfuck me. 1800mg of motrin later, I can stand up straight. Kinda. It rained last night, all over my wooden backdrop for the fair this weekend, so I can't paint it today, becuase I'm the dumbass that didn't take it back into the garage yesterday.

I'd like some cheese with my whine, thank you very much.
drreid-blockston@cavtel.net

And to think...

I almost forgot to post entirely, despite opening up the "post" page, first thing this morning.

Unfortunately, while I have indeed remembered my vow to post every day, I have completely forgotten what witty little gem I was going to share you today, from the House of Flying Monkeys.

So, instead, I'll share with you, my lovely reader (notice the singular, I do not have unrealistic expectations, three children has slowly beaten that out of me), my day.

I actually got up, on time, today. Which, in and of itself, deserves it's own blog. I've found myself hitting the snooze button more and more lately, to the point of, "I can hit it one more time, if I don't shower this morning", to "I wonder how much time putting on socks shaves off my time".

However, I not only manged to drag myself out of bed, but was fully dressed, with minimal make-up on, and hair dragged back into tiny, pathetic pigtails, by the time Marilou arrived with Evan this morning. I got the kids safely off to school, with nary a "If you don't get your bookbag this minute, I swear, I will beat you into submission, until your ears bleed".

I did 8 listings on eBay, in an attempt to clean out some closets, and make some extra cash. I went to the grocery store, where I managed to stay within budget (again, a subject that deserves it's own post). I came home, put away the groceries, even stopping to clean out the shelf on the pantry where I keep pasta, as well as scrubbing out my fridge, which I think, may solely have been to blame for the recent beef recall. I made dinner (chicken boobies with stuffing and beans), did homework with the kidlets, even remembered to do flash cards with them. Then, I popped in White Christmas, because really, who can't find a good chuckle watching Bing and Danny in drag, singing out being sisters, and made chocolate chip cookies. I remembered to call my marketing/printer dude, and inquire, again, about the business cards that I desperately need for this weekend's ginourmous show. I did not get around to painting the lattice backdrop that Doug and 2nd husband built last week, for this weekend's aforementioned show. I will surely regret that with the fire of a thousands suns (which I will be wishing for the heat from), when I have to go outside and paint it tomorrow, when it will be in the 40's, as opposed to the downright warm, 60 that it was today.

My fingertips may not forgive me.

The natives are restless, and this post is virtually useless, so this is all you get for today. More, on the exciting adventures of the produce isle, tomorrow.

Clean-up on aisle 7! Drreid-blockston@cavtel.net

Perhaps what....

...they really meant, was post a blog every other day, LOL?

Best intentions and all that rot.

I could simply not face another conversation yesterday. In my sleep, I could be heard mumbling "all the bibs and burp cloths have a layer of batting, so they are super absorbant, and all the blankets are made using anti-pill fleece, so it will stay soft and supple, instead of getting hard and nubby, when you wash them".

Ack.

The show yesterday was OK. I went in with very low expectations. Then I got there. The room was packed with crafters and artists of all stripes and spots. It was warm, cozy, the sounds of christmas music drifting around yummy smells...

but that wasn't our room, LOL.

We were in the auxillary gym. Which was cold. I wore my scarf, gloves, and coat all day, cold. I watched people walk from the main room, into our room, rub their arms, and turn around, cold.

I didn't lose any money, I made a few bucks, but when you are talking about an all-day affair, the set-up and breakdown, a few bucks is kinda discouraging. Not as discouraging as if I'd lost money, but still.

So, this morning, I blew off my mom, slept in, woke up to Child #1 having made me a pot of coffee, and Doug making breakfast (bacon, scrapple, and pancakes, rock ON).

Me thinks it's gonna be a good day.

Coffee with creamer please. Drreid-blockston@cavtel.net

NaBloPoMo

I got sucked in. I can't help myself. For those of you unfamilar, the link is:

http://nablopomo.ning.com/

I'm in, I'm down, whatever the kidlets are saying this year.

Things are batshit in the House of Flying Monkeys. I have one show tomorrow, it's small, and I don't have grand expectations for it, but then I have a huge one next weekend. It's three days, and enormous. Tens of thousands of people, big. Professionally promoted and juried, big. I'm excited, and nervous as all hell, LOL. If this goes well, it sort of reinforces my decision to really commit to Bitchen Stitchen, in a way. I've sunk so much money and time into this business, at least on the product end.

The Flying Monkeys are moving in for the kill, if I don't get breakfast on the table soon. No milk mornings suck.

Green is the black! drreid-blockston@cavtel.net

Because I CAN.

The days are beginning to bleed together,
as they once did.
Young, fresh pink skin
fresh no longer
hangs in gray folds, sick and tired,
like the rest of her.
Back then, the blood flowed in rivers,
rivulets of ruby drops
mixing with the wax in the voodoo spells of youth,
"Please just make this stop"
becomes,
"Please, just let it start"
the old ways,the only known paths,
eventually become too worn down and dank.
Just the first walk around the block
brings a miasma of pathetic misery,
blanketing the lungs with it's foggy soot,
breathing becomes just too much fucking effort,
even though every cell knows that it's just not an option.
What does an old animal do, when all the self-preserving instincts go dead,
soiled by too many years of faking it,
as if the flight instinct fled
with the ring of tissues elasticity years ago?
Feet cemented in dirt soaked in old blood,
transgressions past
The tang of metal in the air
drums beating familiar rhythms,
calling the beginning of the dance
purity and control long gone
blood begging to be released,
let free,
the pulse joins the drums
hammering at the skull, begging
for just a taste of the past.

darn you blogger...

darn you all to heck!

I hate that when you start a post, and save it to draft, when you finish it, it posts it under the date that you started the darn thing!

They make a cream for that now, don't they?

I've got the fev'a...

baby fever, that is.

How totally fucked up is THAT??

For the first time, in my entire life, I find myself, fiercely desiring a daughter. I've never, ever, before wanted a girl. I always wanted three boys, which, for the record, I have.

I also don't want to spend my entire life raising children. There is more out there, for me, than that. Not to belittle it, it's by far the most important job I'll ever have. But there is more than that, that I want to experience in life. My oldest son is 12.

Twelve. As in, two-thirds of the way towards voting age. My youngest, is six. Right now, by the time I am 45, he will be 20.

Babies scream. Often, and in the middle of the night, no less.

They throw up, poo everywhere (did I mention that all my children are housebroken now?), crawl, then walk, then run, then climb...they'll eat lightbulbs if you're not careful. They wake up early in morning, and you can't exactly sit them in front of Saturday morning cartoons, and tell them to keep it down while you go back to bed.

I have a four-bedroom house. I have three kids. Everyone has their own room...but not if we have another child.

My mother's health sucks.

My father's health sucks.

I will be the primary caregiver for both of them.

The chances of having a girl, after three boys, is probably pretty slim.

I don't want to start over.

I don't want to be pregnant, and have to quit smoking and drinking coffee, and booze, for that matter. I don't want to be tired all the time, and throw up, and go through labor, and risk birth defects, and retardation, and miscarriage, and stillborn babies.

I don't want any of that.

So, how come my arms feel so empty?

Shameless, absolutely shameless!

Whore(count THAT, judgemental ratings-thingey!) that I am, I can't resist posting some pictures of the newer stuff we've been busy bitching and stitching, over at www.BitchenStitchen.com

Nothings shocking...

I was so not surprised by the rating, but I'm loving the explanation, though, I think their counts are off.

I use fuck way more than pussy, and that wasn't even counted.

JustSayHi - Free Online Personals

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

pussy (7x) ass (4x) cock (3x) cunt (2x) hell (1x)

AWOL....

...is the story of my life...

for those of you keeping track, and trust me when I say, I realize that's few, life has been a shitstorm.

Dad has the equivalent of early-on-set dementia, mom has terminal leukemia, and I started a business.

So, excuse the fuck out of me, or not, whatever floats your particular vehicle of preference, for not updating the blog.

Truth be told, I kinda forgot I had it...