The Fabulousness

Memorial Day Brain Dump

So blasted tired.  My eyes are already in bed, asleep.  The rest of me is writing this against my will.

Let’s try bullet points.

• Cutest thing I’ve ever seen that I had no way to photograph: GiGi in my strawberry bandana, as a kerchief, at the beach today.  Damp curls, big smiles, pink rosettes on her swim suit matching her happy, rosy cheeks.  Deam Lake was mega-crowded with every flavor of poor trash in Southern Indiana, but it was fun.  We’re all sunburned just a tad.  Maybe Tim a lot.
• We have purchased our third and final  Keurig.  As much as we love the thing, it’s expensive and a pain in the ass.  Here’s hoping this latest $180 coffee maker lasts more than two years.  At least this time it wasn’t me who broke it.  It just wouldn’t start a few days ago, and we can only live on French Press for so long.  This bitch:
   We’ve invested in so much Keurig gadgetry that parting with the lifestyle at this point is practically like converting to another religion.
• Damn you, Chris Rock, for leaving me walking around signing this all weekend long: 
  
• My baby girl loves those squeezy fruit things.  I don’t know why she never went for “babyfood” before, but we gave her some of these at WDW, and bought a few more for her this week, and praise Jesus, she’s sucking them down like a starving spaceman:
  
• There are so many movies I want to see right now, but we PPV’d This Means War the other night, and it was super fun to watch.  We’ve disconnected the the BluRay because of packing up stuff to paint and get ready to move, but I *wish* I’d remembered to check Amazon for the download, because it’s $2 cheaper.  (Oy!) It’s got the new Kirk in it, and Reese doesn’t look like a meth head in it, unlike this cover image.  Yikes.  Believe me, it’s sexy and fun.  So rent it.
  
• Hopefully tonight we’re going to get caught up on Game of Thrones.  Having been experiencing our own war, we missed last week’s ep as well as yesterday’s!  Oh noes!!!
• There is a chocolate ice cream bar in the freezer calling to me.  I made beef and chicken shish-kabobs over rice, and some hamburgers for the picky eater in the group, and I deserve that ice cream bar, GD it.  Just like I deserved that slice of coconut cream pie earlier.  Hey, okay.  So I haven’t been keeping up with the exercise routine the past week, but I’ve been so busy with the contractor, when I’ve actually had TIME to devote to my regimen, I’m asleep.  I did swim for hours today, that counts, right?
• Speaking of asleep, I dreamed of a Steampunk world last night.  There’s a color comic steampunk antho Axel and I wrote a script for, and I dreamed I was walking down the street in a comic-depicted Steampunk world.  It was actually really intriguing.  My eyes couldn’t possibly take it all in, and it was in layers of paper, cut away to reveal layer upon layer behind it.  Absolutely spectacular.  
• Been thinking about those trashy people that live near us, who have been working so desperately hard to get our attention.  I feel sorry for them.  Can you imagine living next to someone for eight years, trying that hard to get them to notice you?  That must have been pure torture for them, realizing I barely knew they existed.  And then to watch a husband go, a girlfriend come and go, and a new husband arrive on the scene, all the while I could not give a flip about the menopausal crones that live all around me.  Now that I think about it, that must have really irritated them, how they worked and worked and worked and finally got me to notice them.  So sad!  Kind of reminds me of that boy in the second grade who wouldn’t rest until I would say I was his girlfriend.  Eventually in the sixth grade I threw him a bone for an hour before recess so he could have his bragging rights, and then I let his crude “Can I kiss you, please circle Yes or No?” note fall on the floor in front of the teacher, and “broke up” with him.  Look, if you pester people long enough, they will give you what you say you want.  It just might not be what you *really* need.  And, hey, you know, maybe it wasn’t me at all, even though it is MY sex life they stood outside and screamed about.  Maybe it is Tim they are into.  He IS a very handsome man.  Very masculine.  Unlike Mr. Saggy Man Boobs Who Never Wears a Shirt, Rick Faith.  I’m no doctor, but from the looks of it, his wife Leatherface has more testosterone than he has.  Disgusting.
• Did I mention there are about a million movies I want to see right now?  I’m still a little sore over not catching the Avengers yet.  I deserve a GD medal for my performance that night.
• Also, speaking of what I deserve, since I opted for the $3 car wash with the free vac instead of the $180 car detail job for Mother’s Day, I asked Tim if our trip to Holiday World could be his Father’s Day gift.  We both feel this is fair, especially as we’re spending all our dough on home repairs in order to sell our place and HOPEFULLY move to Tash Mountain.
• Shall I tell you more about Tash Mountain?  It’s surrounded by trees.  There are trails through the woods.  There are at least four pileated woodpeckers living in a colony.  There are doubtlessly hordes of Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal look-alikes.  There was once a black snake, but he left, and the mice have come back—although the current owners of Tash Mountain (who call it Moss Hill) think another snake will come back and the mice will become lunch once again.  Tash Mountain does have a pool, which means more work for me, but GD, it’s a pool.  That’ll be so nice.  Tim’s always talked about us having a pool “someday,” but I didn’t plan on it being so soon.  Still, we will figure it out.  If his dad can handle pool maintenance, surely we can, too.  We’ll have to buy a riding mower for Tash Mountain, but that’s okay.
• Tim’s probably going to mow the letters “F” and “U” into our backyard, whenever he God damn well feels like mowing again.  Just so people know we know they exist.
• We are walking our dogs in the backyard on a leash now, just to protect the dogs.  It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s worth it, because it also keeps the dogs from tearing off after the bastards on either side of us when they aggravate them.  I’ll keep doing what’s right for our dogs and our family, but for the first time in my life, after 39 years of bending over backward to please other people regardless of who they were, just because they acted as if it was due them, I honestly don’t care anymore.  If it would not get the dog in hot water, I’d teach him to bite the bastards and take great pleasure in it.  Sad that, isn’t it?  But I won’t take it that far, because I’d never get the nasty taste of assface out of the dog’s mouth after that.  I mean, I’d hate for him to develop a taste for garbage.
• Hope you had a great weekend.  Ours was divine.  You know what they say about the best revenge—living well.  We did that in spades.
• Which reminds me.  My short story Living Well and Tidily at the Corner Cafe is unofficially published in the Corner Cafe anthology.  The antho has some typos, and we’re still planning when the free run will be—and we DO want it to be free permanently ASAP, so I’m not posting the link yet.  But soon.
• Off to pick flourishes for my book, mayhap.  Troll Or Derby.  I have some final touches I need to make to it before I send it back to the formatter.  But it’s nearly complete.  I hope you’ll like it.  It’s WACKY hijinks.
• Or maybe I will just eat an ice cream bar.  Hrm…
• DONE
• I will close with this tidbit: I thought I might have been expecting another baby, but I’m not.  Twice now, I’ve picked out the name Betty for this mysterious baby, and this time, we even talked about building onto the existing house at Tash Mountain to put “the girls upstairs,” and we planned on letting the boys use the downstairs bedrooms.  We don’t want another child, but Tim and I are truly so much in love, and very happy together, it’s like…if it happened, we’d make it work.  And believe me, we’re not trying, but there are just medical complications paired with a certain amount of luck, and…I really don’t want to go into it all, but I was a bit disappointed to find out I wasn’t pregnant this time.  After all the times I’ve thought “Oh no, please God, not again, I’m too old, etc., etc.,” this time was different.  Every day I love that man more, and although there’s no room in my schedule or in my energy allotment for another baby, I am, still, *only 39*.  It’s not unheard of.  I adore Tim and would have 15 children with him if it were feasible, because I don’t think a family has ever existed as well done as ours.  He is my hero and every single day I thank God for him in at least 9 different ways, and he smells good and he’s good to me and we think alike and we’re *still* in love and no, no, no, really, I did not want another baby.
• But I did.  And I loved her, I guess.