Another brag...and updates...

I have to do another Happy Butt Dance!

After studying my Happy Butt off for an entire weekend...I got another 100 on my test today.  I now know way more about how poop is made than I ever cared to know.

Did you know that you can have white poop?  If you do, you need to get to a doc IMMEDIATELY...that's NOT a good thing.

Midterm of this Module is tomorrow.  I think I am ready...I hope so anyway.

Rambling now....

There is a kid across from me in the library with the biggest freaking calculator I have ever seen and the biggest pile of books.  Makes me sweat a little.  In about 10 years my kid will be there and I have NO idea how I am supposed to help him manipulate that calculator.  Holy Gawd.

Back on track....

Quirky has backed off of my Happy Butt a bit.  She's still following me around and meeting me out in the parking lot.  But hasn't texted me since last Thursday morning...and hasn't run across the parking lot lately.  My Instructor asked me today if things were improving.  I had to say that they were .  For me....yes.  For Instructor...not so much.  Now that she can't get much response out of me in class, she's pestering the pee out of the Instructor.   And walk up and down the corridor with her Ipod on during breaks silently singing and dancing to the music in her head.   I will say, she's getting a LOT easier to ignore.

The Husband has Bronchitis again.  I don't think he has actually stopped coughing since March...but now it's kicked up a few notches. I catch myself shutting my eyes to keep from yelling out 'Will. You. Stop. That. Coughing. Now. Please. DAMN IT."    I dropped a package of Omegas, Zinc, Echinacea, Goldenseal, Cough Drops and Cinnamon Almonds to him today.  The Cinnamon Almonds are a new addiction, and I must say, NASTY.  He can keep them.   The rest are my Witch Doctor ways of helping him out. 

Our phone conversations are getting more funny.  Somewhere, a programmer is chuckling about the Skype programming he invented and put his own special touch on.  He has put in a programming bug that about half way into a conversation, you will only hear vowels.  No consonants.  At all.  Ever.   And then you will hear...'Can you hear me now' clear as a fucking bell.  Then the next sentence is all vowels.  Holy Hell.   I can't wait to just sit in the living room and talk to him.  Without that mess in between us.  Hell, "Big Bang Theory" had a spoof on Cyber sex the other night and I will have to say, I found it most hysterical.  The frozen screen on one end...the ability for the other person to see and hear you just fine (he hears me cussing a lot).  I'm grateful for the service and ability...but geezus.

In three weeks I leave for Maine for an entire weekend to see my BFF.  My parents are going to keep Kiddo and I am getting on a plane ALONE and flying to Maine...ALONE...to have a girls weekend...ALONE.  I'm rather excited, but so so so apprehensive too.  It'll be fine.  And fun!  I'm going to have a beer...and a meal...without someone needing a toy out of my purse...or requesting crayons...or his lemonade with a "little bit of lemonade and a whole lotta water"   I'm so excited...but guilty too.  You know.  Mom's aren't supposed to ditch their kids and fly to another state for a weekend.  Well, Good Moms aren't.  Don't judge me.

Rambling a moment...

The Calculator Kid is STILL working over there...with spreadsheets and shit that I can't even begin to comprehend what he is doing without being the Creepy Weird Lady watching him.   Oh please let him be some Math Genius..and this isn't Regular Kid homework.  Cause I may cry.

Now to study a bit for the Midterm tomorrow.  Poop poop and more poop.

A great sadness...

I am suffering a great loss...a great sadness.

A time of mourning in this house.

We have lost a valuable member of our household.

One who has given me comfort, and solace over the past few years.

One who has assisted in keeping my life sane and coherent.

And I am mourning the loss...

Of The Nap.

I knew the day would come.  So many of his Peers have lost The Nap.  I was relishing the fact that Kiddo still had The Nap, and I was so envied by the Moms without The Nap.

But the day has dawned.

I remove my hat, and bow my head in mourning...for this is a great loss...that weighs upon my Heart.

This weekend, Kiddo has demonstrated the keen ability to not only avoid The Nap, but function rather well without it.

I cannot say the same for me.

Oh, the battle that raged yesterday.  He stayed home with me because he has a Wild Case of the Crud.  I couldn't justify him going to Preschool with the hacking cough and snotty nose when I did not have class.

I imagined a nice day at home...some movies...snacks...a nice long nap.

Oh...I was as wrong as hell.

He would not Nap...there would be no Nap...he turned into a raving lunatic when we attempted The Nap.  It was enough to make me want to cry.

Today...I tried again.

Nope. 
I gave up after about fifteen minutes of him not cooperating at all.  I wasn't battling today.  It wasn't worth it.

I came downstairs...and I proceeded to just do what I was going to do while he napped.

I cleaned out his drawers of summer clothes...as he tailed behind me..and helped.

But the loss of The Nap is most disconcerting.

I can't imagine life without The Nap.

Days upon end without him taking The Nap.

At least he is still napping at Preschool.  That I know.

So we have that.

But craaaap. 

No Nap for Kiddo.  No Nap for Momma.

*sigh*

Captain Hook...er...Captain Oh Crap I have to Find this Costume for Halloween...

Halloween is descending upon us.

Yes, I realize I have like over 40 days until the Blessed Event.

But...

Kiddo is HUGE into Halloween.

LIKE HUG-ER than me and The Husband.

He LIVES for Halloween. 

Plans it out starting in January.

This year it is Captain Hook.

And the cheap prepacked Pirate costumes will not work.

They aren't Captain Hook.

As I have been told VERY loudly in Target, Wal Mart and a Costume store.

I am not one to give in to every stinking whim.  That's The Husband's job.

But this year....I have this huge need to make sure he gets his Captain Hook costume.

I however, refuse to pay $70 for the Disney Store version.

And Ebay hasn't been much help at all.

But after putting a 'feeler'...well, a whine, out on Facebook this morning, I have had a friend offer up her sewing skills.

SWEET.

We linked patterns back and forth all day...and she has come to a brilliant solution to my problem.

The one pattern that had the Captain Hook coat...is now out of print and only available on Ebay for an exorbitant amount of money.

Nope...she said.   Don't buy it.

And then proceeded to jabber in Seamstress Language.  I have no idea what she said.  Something about a sale on patterns, making a flare, basting...something like that.

I'm just excited that she gets what I want, and is able to replicate it. 

Yes, I took sewing in High School.  Doesn't mean I WANT to do it...or CAN do it.

Give me a sewing machine and I'll give you a 'Go to Hell' look.

But there are those talented folks out there that get it. 

Thank goodness.

Now to find the hook and hat.  I can handle that...surely.

Week Two...

I am into Week Two of my Medical Assistant course.

Yesterday was a bit of a Muddle...but I got through. 

I've learned that if I go home on Mondays, after class, and read the next chapter, finish the workbook, and get a little laundry done, then I am a step ahead.

Quirky Girl pretty much stayed away yesterday.  She milled around with other students, and acted fairly appropriate.

Today dawned a New Day.

As I am pulling out of my driveway, she texts me "don't forget workbook"

I text back..."thanks!"

She texts back..."ur welcome.  Do u have it?"

I replied nothing back as I was driving.

Get to son's school...she had texted two more times asking if I had remembered my book.

I replied "yes, I have it.  Thanks!"

And drove towards class.

I pull in the Parking Lot, and she comes busting out the door and runs across the parking lot AGAIN at me.

"Where were you!" she blurts.

I simply open my trunk, put my purse in, close it and walk around the car to get to my backpack.

"Quirky.  I have a bit of a commute here...and a Kiddo to drop off at Preschool.  I will not be here at the same time everyday.  It depends on our morning and traffic."

She didn't accept that very well.  "I texted you to see where you were...you didn't reply!"

"Quirky.  I do not text and drive.  I'll let you know if I am going to be majorly late or not coming that day. Okay?  But I do not text and drive"

So on my heels she walks into the building, into the breakroom, into the bathroom.

Yes, the bathroom.

Again.

Damn it to hell.

Apparently I really jacked up her day with my failure to reply to her texts as I am going 70mph on the highway.

I had had enough.

I'm sorry.  If Quirky has a Medical Condition and that is the REASON she is acting like this, please warn someone.  I know HIPPAA and all that fall into play here.  But she is making me quite uncomfortable and annoyed.  I don't know how to DEAL WITH HER!

If Quirky is just QUIRKY...HOLY HELL....

"Quirky.  You really need to give me some space sweetie.  I have work to do, and errands to run, and a child to take care of.  I do not have time to be texting and chatting.  Sorry"

She blinked.  But it didn't phase her.

At all.

Through Lab, she corrected every damn thing I did. 

I walked away and blatantly ignored her shouting my name across the room.  Yes. She. Did.  Because she wanted to see if I wanted to take her blood pressure.  No. I. Didn't.

I'm turning into a Mean Girl now.  And I don't like that.

But I can't think at home without the Pirate Boy chattering or the dog pacing...and I can't think in Class anymore because Quirky is being Quirky.

Thankfully, in Computer Lab, my computer wouldn't let me log on.  I am hoping to redo that problem next week...and so forth and so on.  I had to move to one across the room.

Bliss.

It was after Computer Lab, when she waited around for me...forever...that I decided something else had to be done.  So I sent her on, and talked to the Instructor.

She had noticed I was having issues with Quirky.  But she didn't know about the Parking Lot Stalk, nor the Texting.  She does now.

She's going to keep an eye on things, and help me get Quirky under a bit of Social Control.  If that doesn't work...redirecting, being blunt, redirecting some more...then we will have to go to the Department Head and see what we can do.

But other than that...our week is all about Poop.  The Digestive System to be more precise...but basically it's all about POOP.

Bragging a bit

Hey...

Guess what?

I took my first test today....

I studied my ASS off...

I had no idea what to expect. 

Was it what she reviewed...or were there hidden clues (a college professor used that freaking tactic)...

I made an....

A!

100%

WHOOOT!

SO happy....sooo sooo happy!

Now to read the next chapter and do that workbook.

But whooot!

So far, I am a 4.0 student.  :)

God Save the Queen....Arghhhhh!

Today...Kiddo and I ventured to the 400th Year Celebration of the Founding of Henricus.

As a Transplant Virginian, I must say that these folks take Jamestown and Henricus VERY seriously.

VERY VERY seriously.

If you can link an ancestor to Jamestown...you know someone that actually survived the disease, famine, pestilence... its a BIG deal.

I have a possible link to Jamestown...one of my many many many greats could have possibly been one of their Ancient Planters (first farmers).

I'm not sure...and I sure as sin am not telling these people.

This weekend was the Big Celebration...and it was FREE...so why not.

Kiddo and I packed up and journeyed over...parked and strolled in.

Kiddo is VERY big into Pirates right now.  Like HUGE BIG.

Like he has a Sword in the Car....and I had to tell him that they wouldn't let the Sword in the Celebration. 

He was bummed.

Plus, I was afraid some Interpreter was going to get disgruntled by my child calling them a Pirate. 

Like I said, some of these folks take this local history stuff VERY seriously.
First thing you walk through is the Indian Village.  Very cool...except one small historical flaw.  One of the women had on green and pink striped bikini underwear under her wrap.  And it was slipping in the back.  Well, slipping is generous...it was coming off her butt. 

Kiddo talked with a Trapper, wasn't too thrilled with their houses...and wanted to journey on.

I really wanted to watch the hot dude with the hot tribal tattoos carve out the canoe. 

He wasn't interested.

As you enter the English Settlement, there is a Gate Guard.

Apparently you are supposed to have a Pass Word or something...I didn't know what the heck to say to his 'God Save the Queen'.

Hell...I'm lucky to know which Queen he is referring to.

My child just briskly glanced up at the Interpreter and announced , with a crooked finger announced 'Arghhhhh!'

The Armored Interpreter, with the big pike, simply blinked and grinned.  I had to laugh as we were ushered through the gate.

Then my child got to sword fight. 

If he had been an adult male, he might have peed his pants with glee.

They had Bopping Sticks for the kids, and one of the Interpreters sparred with him.  He was so tickled...and showed some pretty good form in all honesty.  

His little arms flailing, the big helmet knocking around...it was too cool.

Made me want to sign him up for freaking Fencing lessons or something.  

Not so much, but I wanted to...for a brief moment.

After doing our rounds, and seeing the GodSpeed (I'm not sure I would have climbed on that ship to sail across the Atlantic if England had been on FIRE...its a bit cramped)....we headed back to the entrance.

And stumbled upon the Chickahominy Tribe doing some dancing demonstrations.

Too cool.

Morning Glory!

During the fall and winter, I get into a really neat habit with Kiddo.

Since The Husband is usually gone somewhere, we fall into this routine pretty much every fall/winter season.

It's pretty simple.

We stay up late on Friday night.

I take him to bed around 11p when he is about to fall over but clinging onto the special 'stay up late' funsies.

I roll out at 630a.

Brew a hot pot of coffee.

Pop in a movie (I have discovered the local library near Kiddo's New School and I must say they have an OUTSTANDING collection of new releases for one night check outs...sweeeet).

And enjoy. ( This morning was XMen...First Class)

Kiddo wakes up around the time my movie is ending.

We have breakfast, we play.

We get errands done.  And then I plop him down for a late nap at around 4p.

And I left him sleep until near 6p.

A little late bedtime on Sunday night...sleep in on Sunday morning.

However.

I have to make sure he gets up earlier on Sunday morning, because a late nap on Sunday results in Stupid Late bedtime on Sunday night...which directly correlates with Incredibly Cranky Child on Monday morning at 7am

Saturday is awesome though.

I love fall.

Apologies

After re reading my issues with the Girl at School...I've come to the unconfirmed conclusion that she may be a sufferer of Asperger's or somewhere on the Autism Spectrum.

I've sounded rather harsh, but in my defense...there is not a blinking neon sign above her head warning me.  When someone comes running across a parking lot flailing their arms and yelling your name, compassion is not the first response.  The first reponse is 'what in the hell....?'

She may just be really quirky.

Or she may have other issues.

Either way, I've spoken with a friend of mine that gave me a number of tips to help me cope with her.  If they do not work, I will speak to my Instructor about what I might be able to do.

I'm sorry.  I cannot have her on my tail day in and day out...  I just can't.  I need to figure out a resolution of some sort.  For her and for me.

So to anyone I may have offended in my venting...my apologies.  I have never dealt with anyone, in my adult years, that is this quirky and off the social script.

I'm a very social scripted person.  I am a reader of body language.  I have personal space issues.   I have issues with people that do not LISTEN nor PAY ATTENTION.  I have issues with rules.  Rules are there for a reason.  Read the list, adhere to them.

It's the way I am.

And she has been sent to teach me how to deal in another direction

The $2500 Question

A new notice was taped to the door to the classroom when I arrived this morning.

Well...let's clarify.

I NOTICED the new notice taped to the door of the classroom this morning after I had managed to ditch Obnoxious.    She had ran out (I mean that literally folks) to greet me in the parking lot. 

Yes.  She did.

With arms waving...while shouting my name.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

I am trying to block it from my memory.

I'm not sure why I have been given HER.  I really am NOT.

I haven't drowned any kittens or puppies in my life.

I'm fairly nice to old people.

I put up with the Little Girl at my son's daycare for way too long that wouldn't leave him alone.

But what did I do to deserve Obnoxious? 

Really?  What is the divine purpose here?

I'm not sure...but I am becoming quite the Silent One. 

I read A LOT in class...whether I am reading or not.  Because if I look up, she's talking.

About something.

Her ex boyfriend. 

Her Philadelphia Eagles fetish.

Her ex boyfriend.

Her new boyfriend.

Her exboyfriend.

Oh and the Philadelphia Eagles thing.

OMG.

But I digress.

Upon noticing the new notice...I have a new goal in mind for this weekend.

It's a Scholarship Essay Contest.

What would we tell our High School selves, advice and criticism...?

High School was so long ago...and my years in High School were much different than what Obnoxious has experienced.

Maybe use less hairspray?

Say NO to perms?

Ditch the Freak and Fall in Love with The Husband a heck of a lot sooner?

Study more (nah...I really wouldn't tell myself that...it just wasn't in me to study).  I breezed through school...I was one of those sick freaks that didn't pay all that much attention and made it in the National Honor Society.  I wasn't a studier back then.  Didn't care.  Wanted to read instead.   I'd still rather write than study.  See what I am doing right now?

Never start the Mtn Dew?

I honestly don't know what I would tell myself....

That in 20 years I would be a bit overweight and back in school after working for 15 years in a field that literally broke my neck and made me break out in hives at the idea of working in a cubicle again?

That my hair WILL stay blonde...I can stop bleaching it and pretending its natural.  It's not...the natural color is close to that...and doesn't look so bleached you idiot.

The Husband and I will take 15 years before we manage to conceive a child...so all the early fears are for naught...

That I would be seeing a therapist to deal with my anxiety and obsessiveness.  The pills are never going to work and just make me sicker.

The new Star Wars movies...especially the First One...kind of ruin the whole thing.  Other than the smoldering hotness that is Hayden Christiansen.

Or maybe...I would tell my High School self that Life Happens. 

You have to suck it up, chin up, and march on.  People die.  People are born.   People leave your life.  People come into your life.  Doors open, doors close.  You will work in a place that is too hot.  You will work in a place that is too cold. 

But you will LIVE.  You will breathe in and out.  You will EXPERIENCE.  You will LEARN.  You will be DISAPPOINTED.  You will TRIUMPH. 

And that's what I need to tell my High School self.

Because it's plain and simple...I wouldn't have listened anyway.

Busy week...and other ramblings...

I started my classes on Monday.

All I have to say is WOW.

One...I feel like ten thousand pounds of weight have been lifted from my shoulders and I am no longer under the burden of what NBC might or might not do, and I no longer have to listen to sales managers bicker in the background of yet another freaking conference call about how they want an inventory report to look.  I am happy.  I am free.  I am not sitting at a computer all damned day.  I'm feeling wonderful.

Two...I am not the oldest student.  Her name is Ms Nancy and she has apparently taken a liking to me (not in a bad way).  She gave me her old notes, which reek of cigarette smoke but that's tolerable if I am getting inside help, and she decided to make me her lab partner today to do blood draws.  Awesome!  Then I got called back over the Newbie Table to learn to take Blood Pressure.  Realizing very quickly that I do not like their cuffs nor their stethoscopes, I emailed The Husband to tell him that I was going to do some shopping later.  He sat down with a Medic and ordered me a very nice set.  It will arrive tomorrow.  Awwww.

Three...the Youngest Student has hot glued herself to my derrier and will forever be known as Obnoxious.   She greeted the class with a leap and a bound (no kidding) on the first day, and has talked, jabbered, fluttered, and mumbled her way through the classes ever since.  And she sits next to ME.  Yes, she does.  She decided I was going to be her BFF and will not leave me the eff alone.  I understand she wants to make friends, and she is very sweet...but for EVERYTHING HOLY GIRL...SHUT THE EFF UP.  No, I do not want anything out of the snack machine.  No, I cannot pick you up nor take you home because you don't have a car, nor do you know how to drive.  No, I don't want to hang out and chat after class because your ride isn't going to be here for another two hours.   I've been very nice to her so far, but after two days, I am about to go to my instructor and beg for her to be transferred to another MOD.  OMG.  She's making me want to wear a sign that says  "I have no idea who she is" around my neck.  I have resorted to writing my notes in Shorthand to get her to stop effing looking at me.  I swear I did nothing to attract her attention.  She literally moved her crap from one end of the room to where I was sitting and plopped down and announced herself.  And she hasn't left since.

Four...I dumped my Pediatrician.    Yup.  I have had enough.  When the damned Med Asst (I know, because she was the one who told me about the program I am currently in) got smart with me last week about Kiddo's Immunizations, I had had enough.  I had waited my last two hours in the office.  I had dialed and gotten no one for the last time.  I had been transferred to the abyss one too many times.  I was done.  This was it.  So today I toured the new Pediatrician's Office and was very pleasantly suprised that not only did they have a very clean facility, most everyone there knew how to string a sentence properly, and didn't call me MOM...rather than Mrs. The Husband.    So I drove to Old Pediatricians office to pick up the latest Physical form and drop off the Records Transfer.   Damnit...they didn't have the Physical complete.  They had not recorded his latest shots.  Uhm no.  Plus, they wanted me to bring Kiddo back for a blood draw.    NO.  Big Fat NO.  You failed to do it...you didn't follow procedure.  AND, you wrote on the physical that he had Acute Hearing Loss and you were Referring him to an Audiologist.  Funny...you never mentioned that AT ALL.  Dipshit...he's FOUR.  He wasn't going to raise his hand with the beep.  HELL.  I told you he passed his final hearing test in April at the Audiologist with flying colors.  You also mis freaking spelled CLARITIN.     I'm outta here.

Five...my Inlaws were in town over the weekend.  That's drama in itself.  Mother In Law can't hold a thought for more than a few seconds.  And Father In Law cannot hear...he has a tumor on his auditory nerve or something.  So that was a fun time.  But he did repair an electrical outlet and a piece of molding in my bathroom.    Kiddo had a blast...but it was TIME FOR THEM TO LEAVE on Sunday.

Six....we attended an impromtu birthday party on Sunday for the daughter of a woman that I grew up with.  It was fun, but I quickly saw that I have raised the Smartass Class Clown.  Also, girls and boys are wired completely differently.  The girls were content to play Duck Duck Goose, and Musical Chairs.  The boys found Bubble Wands and used them to bat balloons around the room.  But they all ate cake and pizza and were happy with their goodie bags.  I also do not want to host a birthday party at that location.  The party planner SUCKED and didn't know what to do with the kids.  And two hours in a party room was a bit much without turning the kids loose in the rest of the facility.

Seven...I have discovered that I can literally spend hours in the Quiet Room at the Library studying and using my laptop without someone's kid clamboring around and everything else going on.  It's freaking WONDERFUL.

Eight...I've signed Kiddo up for Indoor Winter Soccer at the YMCA.  I hope he's excited! 

Reality Is...

This morning...the report came in of the bombing in Afghanistan overnight of a NATO base.

I realized the bombing took place before I talked to The Husband last night.

BUT....

I slapped out a fast email to him...just to say I love him.  And to make sure he was OK.

Our media is delayed on getting the info...and I just wanted to touch base...

And I waited...

Thirty minutes later, after many refreshes and some anxiety...you can only hit F5 so many times before you start feeling like a nut.

I get his reply.

All is quiet in his Province.

Welcome to my world.

Remembering....

It's the Day Before 9/11

It's my Generations Pearl Harbor, or D-Day, or even the Day JFK was Assasinated.

I didn't understand why my Grandparents and Parents were emotionally vested in those days.

They meant nothing to me.

I wasn't there.

But I was there, on 9/11.

To me, it means a loss of innocence.

A loss of pure safety.

A loss of haughtiness that comes along with being American.  We'd never had anyone attack us in quite this way on our own soil...ever.  We were safe here.  No mobs were bombing cars out in OUR streets.  No dictator was leading OUR men and women to slaughter.

We were safe.

La da dee da.

WERE.

Now, to be honest..

I'm a bit ashamed of myself.

Yes, if you are of Arabic descent, I am looking at you out of the corner of my eye.

It's terrible...but it is the truth.

I'm watching you at the airport.

I'm watching you in the subway. 

Hell, I am even watching you in the grocery store.

You were probably born here, and love America as much as I do...but I can't sit down and chat with you over a cup of coffee.  I have to make a fast judgement based entirely on appearance and go with that.

I have this sixth sense that I call the 'Jingle Jangles'.  I listen to this instinct.

If the Jingle Jangles go off I find an escape route IMMEDIATELY.

The Husband works with a guy that sets off major alarms. 

And so far, I haven't had the Jingle Jangles go off in one of these situations.  You're Ok.

You are simply trying to get through your day, do your job, and keep under the radar of the stares.

Because I KNOW that I am not the only one watching you.

And I am sorry that it has come to this in 2011.  By now, according to the cartoons in the 1980's, we should all be living in Harmony with No Nukes.

Ha.

9/11 started out normal for me.  I drove into work. 

I crossed the big bridge into the city and marvelled at the beautiful blue sky.

It was a Tuesday.

And they were talking about the Mayoral Election in NY on the Radio.

I got into the office and sat down at my desk.

846a...a co worker rushes back...plane just flew into the First Tower.

WHAT?  What happened?

What crazy pilot flew INTO that big tower?

What?

I was standing in front of the TV in a co workers office when the second plane struck.

I jerked...my whole body jerked.  My hands covered my mouth and I looked wide eyed at my Boss.

We just looked at each other.  I think someone screamed...

This was no accident.

This was something completely different.

And I cried.

Because I had NO idea how to process this.

NONE.

I just stood there with co workers, and watched people die. 

RIGHT THERE...in front of me.

I called my mom, who worked the night shift, trying to wake her up.

I was screaming into the answering machine for her to please wake up.

She finally called me back...quite pissed that I had woke her up "Are we under attack or something?" she asked...having no idea.

"Yes, Mom...we are"

And thus my whole world was changed forever.

I can't erase that image...

My cell phone started ringing.

It was The Husband.

Stay at work he said.

DO NOT LEAVE.

When he says that, in that way, I do what I am told.

I remember the plane hitting the Pentagon and immediately typing out an email to a friend of mine...who was pregnant. Her husband worked there.

What ELSE was going to happen?

Where was the next attack?

How many of them are there?

Just helpless...just absolutely helpless.
Flight 93 crashed into the field in Pennsylvania.  I don't even want to think about what all of those people on those planes went through.  The terror.  The knowing. 

And we watched...all day. 

I saw the first tower collapse.  I had no idea how big those towers were (I had never seen a sky scraper before) and in my naivete, I imagined everyone had had time to get out.

I thought about what I would do if I was ever in that situation.  I planned my escape, or my quick death.

What was happening?

Who would do such a thing?

What other plane was going to fall out of the sky?

Make it STOP.

And the trains became silent...there is a train station near my old job and we would hear that rumble ALL day long. 

Nothing.  Silence.

There were no sounds from overhead of planes winging towards the airport.

Nothing.  Silence.

And we waited.

Holding our breath.

Shocked.

Scared.

But then the Anger set in.

Who DARED strike us?  Who DARED do this to us?

And an outpouring of American Pride washed across the Nation.

Flags everywhere...bumper stickers...WE LOVED AMERICA.

Ten years later, we're still fighting this war.

We got the Leader...and I remember looking at The Husband and saying 'oh shit' the morning they announced Bin Laden had been killed.

American's, quite the microwave society, are tired of fighting.

I think we've Forgotten.

We want to sit down again.  Withdraw our troops.  Stop this fighting.

But do you remember what they did to us?  We cannot back down.

Then they win.

And we will live in Fear forever.

And yes, it means The Husband has to leave for a year at a time. 

But if it means that Our Son doesn't have to go fight a War his Father couldn't win...then it is worth it.

For the Next Generation.  So they can build on what we have started.

Gonna have to have a Bigger Towel

Today was my first day taking advantage of the Military OneSource YMCA privileges for Deployed National Guard families.  Click here if you are interested in knowing more.

I trotted into the YMCA that is close to my new training site (I'm not sure I can call it a school, but a vocational center sounds odd too).  I had my Orientation.  I met my Instructors.  I met my Classmates (more on the one I dubbed Obnoxious later).  

This is after Kiddo and I did a Dry Run of Daycare DropOff and my Dash to Class this morning.

Worked like a charm. 

Hope tomorrow works as well.

Anywhoooo....

I had packed my workout clothes, my make up, a towel, washcloth, etc.

Did my little workout. 

Mile and a half on the treadmill...some shoulder exercises for this stupid herniated disk in my neck...then I blundered around a bit.

Nice facility. 

LOTS of older people...very friendly.

I decided...you know...I need to take a shower.  I was meeting my Ex-Boss for Lunch and didn't want to feel icky all day.

Soooooo...I began to try to figure out the whole logistics of this.

One...I've never showered at the Gym.  EVER.

Two...There is no bench or anything in the showers for your stuff.

Three...I've never showered at the Gym.  EVER.

So I undressed in the little curtained off stall.

I peered out the curtain...no one around...here I go!

Then I wrapped my towel around me and flip flopped my way around the corner to the shower room.

Realizing half way there that I CLEARLY need a Bigger Towel.

I felt a bit Under Toweled.

Jump into the shower...do a quick swipe down...dry off...

Then I poke my head out...look right...wall....look left...empty corridor.

And I dash back to the little stall.

Get in the stall and realize my clothes are NOT in there.

I had jumped into the wrong little stall.

And of course there are like three people in the locker room getting dressed.

Awesomely awesomeness.

So I stand there....like a dumbass.

And wait.

And drip.

And wait...

It's like needing to Poop in a public restroom...you try to wait until EVERYONE gets out of the rest room before you go...

COME ON PEOPLE!

My butt is too big for my towel...I don't want to flash anyone...and I don't want to look dumb.

Looking dumb was probaby the number one problem.  I really didn't want anyone going home and talking about the Idiot in The Locker Room that went into the wrong dressing stall.

I was pretty much over the Flashing everyone by this point.

One by one they depart...except one little old lady in her fancy dancy turquoise swimsuit.  She takes her bloody time.

FINALLY, they are all out, so I duck out and dash down two more curtains to my stall.

Big DUH.

Get dressed, wrap my wet stuff up, and then proceed to act like I knew what I was doing all along.

Freshen the make up...touch up the hair...blah blah blah.

All the while I am wondering what I am going to do about the towel situation.

Once I leave...I email The Husband and tell him about needing a bigger towel.

His reply "Now you know why I brought a beach towel over here"

Well...no freaking kidding.

Hugging Strangers

My parents drove from West Virginia on Friday to help me attempt to get the house back in order after that Bitch Irene.

Thank goodness they did.

The house was a DISASTER area...electrical cords strung hither an yon. 

The Fridge and Freezer needed completely emptied and washed out.

I had laundry up to my ears.

Mom knocked out a lot of the work before I got home from work on Friday.

She brought some groceries with her and we had a dinner...at our house...INSIDE!  No sitting on the back deck.

Saturday morning, I left a sleeping Kiddo and dashed out for an oil change and then to hit the Commissary to try to reclaim my lost groceries.

As I entered the door, I encountered a couple that I am going to lovingly nickname 'The Scooters' for this story.

She was disabled and had her Grocery Scooter.  He was sporting a Vietnam Veteran cap and a black Harley Davidson T shirt. 

We struck up a conversation in the sodas aisle as we were sharing our Bitch Irene stories.

He then said something that made me blink.

"Do you have USAA?"

Yes...yes I do.

"Did you file yet?"

No...there isn't enough to file with the deductible.

"Honey, they don't have a deductible for food loss now...call them"

So I shuffled my buggy over to the Clearance Corner and called USAA.

Ten minutes later, I tearfully hung up.

They deposited $750 in my account to help me get my groceries back.

WHAT?! 

OH YES THEY DID!

Then I had to find The Scooters...and I did...and I gave them both the biggest hugs ever by a stranger in the middle of a Commissary.

Cause I could have cried...

Whoot to USAA and Whoot to the Scooters!

I did my preliminary shopping and it was still $200 (ketchup, mayo, mustard, A1 and all of that really add up).  I haven't replaced much of what I lost...but I have some assistance now.

Something good out of this week...

It's Official

I am now Unemployed.

I left under my own power, and by my own decision...so that is a good thing.  I didn't get my box handed to me and escorted to the parking lot.

Friday left me in a puddle of tears as I hugged my wonderful Bosses and bawled my way out the back door. 

I've been there for ten years.

We're friends....

We've had babies, went to funerals, bitched about spouses, suffered some sort of financial drama...had some really fun times, and some really sad times.

There is just so much history there.

And now I am gone.

It will at least be quieter...cause I was a bit of a mouth.

Shocking huh?

But now I feel incredibly Irresponsible.

I don't know why.  Because going back to school isn't exactly lounging a home with Bon Bons and Magazines.

But I have never NOT worked.  I've always had a job.

So this is a bit AWKWARD.

I'll get over it...I know but still. 

I'm now UN. EM. PLOYED.

Urgh.

Roughing it...at the Hampton Inns & Suites

I had an epiphany at about 9p last night.

My house smelled like wet hot dog and mildewy towels.

The roars of the neighborhood generators were about to drive me bonkers.

I could hear my freezer dripping water on the pile of towels in the bottom.

I had a lamp hooked up to our generator.

And I was tired.

Tired of cold showers, and eating take out.

Tired of bothering to keep it together.

I wanted a hot shower, to do a load of laundry, flip a switch and the lights would actually come on.

You know...the basics.

So I called the Kennel where we board The Dog, and he answered.  He had Power!  He was Open!

I got off the phone, turned to Kiddo and said 'Wanna stay in a Hotel?"

He leaped off the couch with a 'Oh Yes!" and started packing his pull along back pack. 

Haha!

So we packed our little suitcase last night, went to bed...and we dropped The Dog off this morning.

I held off all day making the reservation.  I wanted to make sure our Power didn't come back on.

Dominion Virginia Power said between 12p and 6p in their little automated recording. 

Honestly, I didn't know a SINGLE person that had actually gotten their power back during the estimated time they had been given.

After work, I picked up Kiddo...we hit Target for snack essentials and dinner at Bob Evans.

His choice.

I don't know if he has ever been in a Bob Evans, but he was ALL about it.

No Power according to The Neighbor.

So we checked in.

Then The Neighbor called...our Power was back!

There was no way I was driving the hour home to walk into a house that still smelled like wet hot dog and mildewed towels.

Nope...I am lounging in my big bed with the TV on and every single light in the room blazing. 

We have a load of laundry downstairs drying and the Kiddo is going to get a scrubbing tonight.

I am too.

I am going to take like three showers...