My Sore Throat is Sore

So...its the middle of summer and my head hurts, my throat hurts, I have a delightful cough, and I'm stuffed up. What is wrong with this picture? Well, come hell or high water, I am not taking off another day of work. I don't care if I pass out at my desk (would anyone, besides ZennieZou notice?). I want to quit sooner rather than later and I've already used up more vacation than I've earned. Oops. At any rate, time to pop a little Simply Sleep (brought to you by the makers of Tylenol - there, that should qualify me for the Tylenol scholarship) and its off to sniffly, runny, sneezy, coughy dreamland.

Popsicles!

Yum, frozen sugar water. Actually, I love popsicles, freezies, and anything else in the frozen sugar water family. And so does Baba.

Not only is Baba working on his sweet tooth, he is also working on some real teeth, so he is crabby, cranky, tired, drooly, and snotty. I was desperate to get him to stop whinning for 2 seconds. So I set him in his high chair and introduced him to the popsicle in all its frozen splendor.

He was a quick study. He learned to hold it by the stick and not the frozen part (my boy's a genius, I tell ya!). He has not mastered the fine art of eating frozen food fast enough that you beat the thaw, but slow enough you don't freeze the brain.

Lately, Baba has been on a sharing kick, which is great. I think it's pretty cute that he'll play with a toy for a little while and then bring it over to myself or Zippy so we can have a turn (must have picked that up at day-care). The sharing is not so cute when he wants to share his bottle of whole milk (gross!) or food that has been in and out of his mouth six times. I am not one to snub my nose at a popsicle on a 100 degree day, that's for sure.

"Oh, dear", says ZennieZou

Dear Ms. ZarahZou,

Are you aware that by sending me an invitation to join your blog, it appears that I am able to create posts under your name? In the future, I will try to refrain from the havoc I could create by making said posts. But this is only if you are nice to me.

Sincerely,
ZennieZou (who is your new favorite person, and who you will now pay a total sum of $1 break bucks every single work day)

My Roots Are Showing!

Everyday I answer my trivia question on www.memolink.com and today's question was something along the lines of, "What kind of books are the best sellers by a long margin?" And I thought, "A. Long Margin? What a weird name. Have I ever read anything by A. Long Margin? I'm an English major, I should know this."

The answers were:
A. Sci-Fi
B. Fantasy
C. Biography
D. Romance

I then reread the question and realized that my roots were showing or I had had a blonde moment. Being that I'm not blonde, but a fun loving burnette, means that I can't use the blonde excuse when I'm ditzy, so I have to pretend.

Hot enough fer ya?

While I was sitting and waiting (and waiting) for my interview this afternoon, every person who walked by (they were all, by the way, wearing jeans and I was lookin' the tool wearing a skirt and sweater) would ask, "Is it hot out?" Generally when the weather guy/gal says its going to be in the 90s, that's hot. In the upper 90s, that's even hotter. So to answer your question, "Yes, yes it is hot."

And I can't wait to sit outside in my garage all day tomorrow and enjoy the heat waiting for someone to purchase one of my treasures.

"Treasures! I've got treasures, here! Get 'em cheap!" It's too hot to think of something clever and/or cute to write. I need a nap. But, I did find out today that scholarships are decided and students are notified by August 1st, which by my calculations is coming up pretty quickly.

Interviewing

I had a phone interview tonight and a real, live interview (do they still do these?) tomorrow afternoon. Someday, I'm going to answer every single questions they ask exactly the way that comes to mind.

Interviewer(I): Are you flexible
Me(M): No.
I: How do you feel about change?
M: I fear change.
I: You go out for coffee with your co-workers and they start bad-mouthing your boss, what do you do?
M: Join in.
I: What is your ideal job?
M: One that I get paid a lot and don't have to do much work.
I: Where do you see yourself in 5 years.
M: Not here!
I: Why do you want this job?
M: I don't, but I need the money.
I: What is your greatest accomplishment?
M: Getting through this interview with a straight answer and my ability to bullsh*t!
I: What is your strength?
M: Bullsh*tting.
I: What is your weakness?
M: Thinking up a "good" weakness that is actually a strength (dare I be so bold as to say this tomorrow. Stay tuned....).

How come they never ask, "How do you feel about working for someone who is dumber than you and will make your job 10 times harder and more stressful then it should be?"

I love interviewing because it keeps me mentally sharp. Thinking up good responses to crappy questions is a strength, right? I'm quick on my feet. But, my biggest problem is, I'm so good at saying what they want to hear, I don't honestly evaluate the job and decide if it something I actually want to do. So I get stuck in yucky jobs I strongly dislike. Grr.

I'm Googleable!

Thanks to one of the very few co-workers I like, ZennieZou, I am now googleable! Search for me "ZarahZou" and find ZennieZou's most excellent blog. And Zennie has agreed to do the National Write a Novel in a Month with me. 1667 words per day for a month here we come!

Why is it when you are running late you get stuck behind every slow driver in the world? Tonight, on my way to visit my nut doctor (therapist) I got stuck behind a riding lawn mower, a tractor pulling a wagon of hay bales, a student driver (note to future drivers of America: a complete stop is good, it's the even law, but a complete stop need not last 5 minutes!), and Grandma and Grandpa who were out joy riding ("Edward, I told you to slow down! There is no need to go 50!"). Plus, I had to get gas ($2.92 a gallon! Score! Remember when anything over $1/gallon was expensive?), but I ended up being only 2 minutes late.

At most I've got 27 days left at my current position. And that's reason to celebrate.

The Farm

On Saturday we went to my grandma and grandpa's farm in beautiful (tiny) Stanchfield, MN. Baba had a blast! He loves tractors and cows (Moo!) and my grandparents love seeing him (and seeing me, too, of course). We got up early (way too early) Saturday morning and let Baba play until he started getting crabby. This is our favorite trick! Anytime we have a longish car ride ahead of us, we tire Baba out and then he usually sleeps for a good portion of the trip. Usually. If we don't wear him out first, then he just whines the whole trip. He has never been much of a napper (much to my dismay). From about 2 to 6 months he didn't nap at all. And to make matters worse, he wasn't sleeping through the night. Some people can get by with 3 to 5 hours of sleep, I am not one of them.

We got to Grammy's around 10ish and it was already quite warm (I like global warming in the winter - who am I to complain about balmy winters? - I just don't like when it gets above 85 or so). Poopsquirt (I've always called my dad "Poopsquirt" and I'd hate to break tradition now), Poonch II, Ditty, Zippy, and Baba went for a nature walk (my dad wanted to show Poonch II his deer stand). I couldn't go. I choose fashion over practicallity and wore flip-flops.

After touring the country side, we had lunch (Baba had a hot dog bun, half a veggie burger, some baked beans, and lots and lots of fruit - he's 16 months and can already out eat me) and then let Baba tear around the farm. His Auntie Ditty took him in the barn and let him look at the cows. The barn smelled especially sweet because of the heat. Baba tried to climb into the cow pen, but judging by the amount of manure on the otherside of the fence, we opted not to let him play with the cows.

His very proud great-grandpa took him for a tractor ride. The only time my grandpy has ever been speechless was when I told him that Baba's middle name was going to be Harold, which is my grandpa's first name. My grammy said he started crying, he was so touched. I love my grandparents. And I love the farm. Someday, I'm going to have a hobby farm with 3 fainting goats (Zebulon, Isaac, Thadeous), 2 sheep (Pete and Re-Pete), a horse (Please, Zippy can I have a horse? Just one juicy little horse?), and other animals as I see fit.

Gibberish

I was going to be ambitious and learn html so I could make a neat-o blog instead of relying on the templates provided. Or, at the very least, edit my current template to make it, for lack of a better word, more neat-o-er, but alas, and alack, html is gibberish!

Flashback! Once upon a time, in my younger, dumber days, my husband and I went out for dinner and got Mojitos at Chino Latino (an awesome restaurant in Uptown). After stumbling home, I decided it was in my best interest to have another drink. After my second drink (I am a bit of a light-weight) I was no longer was capable of speaking English. Upon discovering this, I became a crying, drunken mess because my husband was going to leave me because I no longer speak English, all I spoke was gibberish. How could we communicate or stay married if we no longer spoke the same language? I sobered up and my mastery of the English language returned. Coincidence? I don't think so.

I think I was hung over for 3 days after that. I have not sipped a Mojito since, but I have forgiven the Captian for his transgressions.

Thanks for the heads up!

In Friday's mail we got a flyer from Big Brother (the association for the community that we live in) "reminding" us about the community wide garage sale next weekend. I love garage sales, but how can it be a reminder when we never got the first notice?

For a little while, I was worried. Would we have enough stuff to justify opening our garage door and letting the world take a gander at the treasures (crap) we no longer have a need for?

My worries were unfounded. After digging through our closets for a hour last night, I have found enough treasures to fund a couple of garages sales. Now, I just have to get everything priced and pretty before next Saturday. No problem. I've got nothing but time.

I'll get you a real good deal on some crap, I know the owner.

A Perfect Evening

Me and my husband cuddled up on our couch with popcorn to eat and a movie to watch, what could be better?

All the stress I was feeling completely gone thanks to the cosmo I had. This job has driven me to drinking!

I am very, very anal when it comes to budgeting. I have an overly-elaborate budget spreadsheet in which I breakdown every penny we spend every month. Since January, since I started working at my current position, the alcohol budget keeps getting bigger and bigger. Hmmm. I wonder why.

Splish! Splash!

As previously mentioned my son loves water! It ranks right up there with Wili (the cat), food, and causing trouble. One night, as I was trying to get supper on the table and someone wanted to help stir the boiling dinner from a box that I was making, I had an idea. I would fill the sink with soap and water and let him go to town. What could possibly go wrong?
Needless to say water doesn't belong in the sink. It belongs on the counter, the floor, on Baba, on the cat, and on the chair.

Baba did his best to relocate the water to a more suitable home.

Sometimes a little water got in his face, but he was willing to take one for the team.

He looks so surprised at the mess he has made.

To be or not to be?

Work or school? Work or school? Work or school?

School or work? School or work? School or work?

I don't know! I'm too little.

"I'm too little" also has family origins. We would say it when we didn't want to do something, like "I'm too little to do the dishes" or "I'm too little to clean the bathroom". It can also be used when you don't want to make a decision, like "I can't decide what movie to watch, I'm too little."

And, if you don't want to try a new food you say, "I had it at Tonya's." Tonya was the daughter of a babysitter that Ditty went to a couple. But in those few days she was there she must have been eating constantly because anything that she thought she didn't like (didn't matter if she had actually tried the food in question or not) she had tried at Tonya's, thus shouldn't have to try it again.

Not my boy! He likes everything except raw onions and grapefruit.

You win some, you lose a lot more....

Softball night and we lose more than we win, which is wonderful! Someone's got to lose and I don't mind that it is my team night after night. (This constant losing, by the way, has got to be a fluke! We have some incredible players on our team, Poonch II, some girl who works upstairs (double paranthesis: at my place of employment there is the "upstairs" and the "downstairs" and, like east is east and so on, never the two shall meet. If you work upstairs you don't come downstairs to mingle. It's like two businesses in the same building), and some guy named Jim (and you don't mess around with Jim), among others, myself discluded from this list. Oh, if my senior seminar prof could see me know, I think she would cry at my sentence structure).

Anyway. To put it bluntly we are TERRIBLE. But if we were any good, I wouldn't play. I need a team that is totally cool with my fear of the ball (please note, I am not afraid of the ball on the ground - just in the air), and with me calling everyone "man". And I also need a team who thinks its funny that when we are down by, oh 9 or 10 or 11 runs, that I keep telling everyone that we have the other team just where we want them.

Poonch II has requested words be added to the dictionary so here goes.

tink - think
tink, tink - think hard
ops cream - ice cream
punny - funny
berry berry punny - very, very funny
hompster - a disgusting action
sow, pig, hompster - a really disgusting action, example: a large belch
seepy - tired
seepy dance - tired dance
boop - boat
pish - fish
pishing - fish
hungly - hungry
bunya - bunny
ba! - a noise made to scare wildlife

What am I missing?

Just Go to Bed!

A certain Mister Goigoi is still awake. Let me explain. Mondays, Wednesdays, and everyother Friday (though it has been every Friday lately) I work from 10 until 6:30. I don't get home until 7:15 and it sucks! Tuesdays and Thursdays I work a "normal" day with my husband - 7:30 to 4.

Anyway, Baba is not adjusting well. He runs around the mornings I'm home yelling, "Dad, Dad, DAAADDDD!" and evenings when I'm at work he runs around yelling, "Mom! Mom! Mooommmmm!" And now has added a new trick. He goes to bed around 6:45 for my husband and then wakes up around 8 yelling "Mom!" He continues to scream until I go in there and cuddle with him. Usually he falls right back asleep. Not tonight. He has been awake in his crib playing for almost an hour now.

To get us in there he has tried the following:
1. Yelling "Boo!"
2. Yelling "Uh-oh!" (I must admit, this one almost got me. What had he done that warranted an "uh-oh"?)
3. Alternately yelling "Mom" and "Dad"
4. Yelling "Wili!" (I had to double check to make sure Wili the cat had not moved from the bed).
5. Crying.
6. Throwing stuffed animals.
7. Jumping in his crib.
8. Slapping his crib.
9. Yelling "Sure!"
10. Yelling "Hey yeah!"
11. Giggling.
12. Making various animal noises, including "Moos" and "Baas."

He is putting up quite the effort. We may have to resort to some children's allergy medicine (may cause drowsiness the label says. Please cause drowsiness the tired parents' beg) tonight!

Roar!

Yesterday, to beat the heat we went to the Mall of America and played tourist. Although I swore up and down that I would never do it, I bought a leash for my child. You see, once Baba gets going he doesn't want to stop. I was afraid that with all the people at the mall yesterday he would get lost in the crowd. I bought a cute backpack style harness (harness is pc, leash is not!). He had a blast running around the mall. We even went to the Dinosaur Walk museum and almost gotten eaten by a dinosaur. It was a close one.

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink!

My child is obsessed with drinking his bath water. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that he doesn't mind water in his face and will go out of his way to get water in his face. But, some may think his love of drinking the bath water, or pond scum as we call it, is gross.
I disagree, sort of. You wouldn't catch me drinking out of the bathtub. But, I have been known, on occassion, to blow bubbles in the bathtub.

Baba learned how to drink out of a cup by playing with a cup in the tub (if you weren't supposed to let your kid drink shampoo/soap water, there would be a warning on the bottle, right? Right?). He now likes to have his squirty toys filled with water so he can squirt himself in the face and laugh.

I've never made a big deal out of getting water on his face because I didn't want to scare him. I figured if I didn't make a big deal, he wouldn't make a big deal.

I did, however, draw the line when we were at the cabin. Baba wanted to drink the lake water. A lake is nature's toilet and I've yet to see an animal flush after going. Bath water, drink away my little friend. Lake water? Not so much.

Let Them Eat Cake!

Cake, its a beautiful thing. To eat, to wear, to throw, to decorate, etc.

It is a long standing tradition in my family to eat cake without a fork. You just dive in, head first, and hope you don't get too much cake up your nose. There is nothing quite like cake boogers. Ahh, delicious.

Anyway, this particular family tradition started when I graduated from high school back in two thousand ought ought. My mom had left-over graduation cake which she didn't care to save (Ahh! The pain of my cake not being worth saving!) and knew no one would accept a simple piece of cake so humbly offered on a plate. So she broke out the forks and passed the cake around the circle of family and friends (including my then boyfriend, Zippy) and everyone dug in.

Britta decided to up the ante and dove in, face first. Not to be out done by someone so young, my father and uncle joined in. What choice did the rest of us have? Since then cake has been eaten without a fork.

"Gross!" you say? Why, not in the least. Do you know where that fork or plate was prior to being washed? I believe I saw the insert your favorite domesticated animal here licking leftovers off of it.

Softball and such....

The posting of the cake pictures is still pending. Tuesday nights are softball nights - and let me tell you, we are an amazing team.

We have won two whole games. Last night we lost 21 to 18. But, we were very excited not to get skunked (again) and to have scored a run (18, to be exact). So, we pretty much are the greatest company softball team to have ever played the game.

And we didn't even comandeer a ship!

I'm back from the cabin. Sunburned and sore, but back. SPF 50, what a joke! I did learn a valuable lesson this weekend. SPF 50 just doesn't cut it. My cousin, Anna, uses baby oil and is pictured on the left, soaking up the rays and turning a nice golden brown. I, on the other hand, spend the day hiding from the sun and I still turn into "lobster girl!" Lobster Girl's cape (the smashing blue and green stripped towel pictured on the right) were not enough to shield my skin from the intense Minnesota rays.

But, I still had a great time and spending time at the cabin was much better than working. I get to return to that reality tomorrow. I can't hardly wait.

Saturday morning, we got up with Baba and drove the two hours to the cabin. Baba raced to the lake. And would have spent the whole day happily splashing, but someone (Lobster Girl) was worried about Baba turning into Lobster Baby. He did spend a lot of time playing in the sand and water.

My other cousin, Britta, caught an enormous fish and was crowned the fisherperson (must be politically correct, you know) of the weekend. We catch a lot of fish off the end of the dock.

The only problem is they are tiny! But they still put a good fight and we are always excited to land one of the "big" fish (you should have seen the one that got away!). Our favorite bait isn't leeches or worms or nightcrawlers. Our favorite bait is canned corn! There is something about canned corn that send the little fish into a tizzy.

The other benefit of corn is that your fingers don't get slimy when you bait the hook. The leeches we buy are purely for medicinal purposes.

Besides for seeing the biggest fish that calls Round Lake home, the other highlights of the weekend were, seeing Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and eating cake. Pirates was excellent and we have decided that Ditty and Poonch II are having a pirate themed weddding. They have yet to agree to this, but we are confident they will come around (or come about I should say. Must get used to the nautical terms and syntex).

More on the eating of the traditional cake tomorrow, it's bedtime for me!

To the Lake I go!

Pay no attention to the stretch marks, please. It is bathing suit season you see. And I will preform the yearly ritual of removing my clothes down to a scanty swimsuit, my pale skin will reflect the sunlight and the layer of ozone (spf 75) will reflect any rays my pasty white skin cannot.

I will then outrun the deer flies, horse flies, house flies, dog flies, cat flies, bear flies, and mosquitos that Mother Nature intends to barrage me with and dive (gingerly get wet inch by inch until one of the aforementioned bugs takes a chunk out of my skin) into the warm (freezing cold!) lake water. A leisurely swim is in order.

After my swim, I will bask in the sun until I am a lovely shade of brown (until I am lobster girl). I will stick to my current diet (I will pig out on stuff I seldom allow myself) and everyone will say, "Gaft Girl, how slender you look. And to think Baba is only 16 months old" (no one will say anything about my weight, but will think, she looks kind of chunky). I will be proud of my post-baby figure (I will remained fully covered at all times).

We will escape the heat of the afternoon (heat being a relative term, this is Minnesota, you know) by having an intellectual conversation in the shade (playing cards, making stupid jokes, and getting drunk). After a leisurely meal full of good company and good conversation we will take one final trip around the lake and head off to an early bedtime (we will stay up way too late and get up way too early because a certain Baba doesn't realize that if you stay up late you sleep in late.)

I will return Monday. Unless I decide to hid from responsibilites and move to the cabin permanetly. Tempting.....

Go Away, PPD! I Don't Need You Any More!

Back during the darkest days of my journey through postpartum depression (I hesitate to say "through" just when I think I'm out of the woods, I find I am wrong) my mom, not knowing I had PPD (I, too, was unknowing at the time) looked at my son and said: "How could anyone hurt a child?"
I must admit that my first reaction was, "Easy!" Despite suffering in silence for fear of admitting I was a "failure" and a "bad" mom, I never laid a hand on Baba, as much as I wanted to at times.

Thankfully those thoughts have passed. I had enough sense left in my unbalanced brain to always set him down in his crib and walk away until I could get myself under control. Having a baby is the hardest thing I have ever done. I will readily admit (now) that I did not know what I was getting into. There are times when I wished he would just go away ("Go away where?" my therapist asked. I couldn't admit to her and I can't admit now where I wanted him to go, but I know in my heart the answer and it eats me up). There are still times when I want 15 minutes (or more) but tonight when Zippy and I laid on the floor and Baba was blowing raspberries against our stomachs and we were laughing so hard we couldn't talk or breath I was happy. I felt joy. Feelings I haven't felt enough of lately.

Hearing "Momma" makes it worth it. Juicy kisses makes it worth it. Hugs. Being loved above all else, even food, makes it worth it. Seeing him do something I taught him, makes it worth it.

My Baby Sister is Gettin' Hitched!!

My sister's boyfriend, pardon me, fiance, proposed to her yesterday. Something about the fourth of July and getting engaged! Not the first romantic holiday that comes to mind, but I guess they couldn't get engaged on Valentine's Day, that's Poonch II's birthday.

When I was about 5 or 6, I invented a word to refer to a boyfriend and a girfriend - Poonchies. The word stuck and when I was dating Zippy, whenever he would come over, my dad would run around saying, "Poonch is here! Poonch is here." When my sister, Ditty, started dating Poonch II, we couldn't very well call him "Poonch" because that was already taken. So, Poonch II he became.

I've come to the conclusion in the last, oh 6 or 7 years, that my English is not normal English. Its a mixture of words that Ditty and I made up as children (children means from the day we started talking to present day) that my parents (we) have continued to use. Nothing like a little Familynese to make a person feel welcome. The funny part is when people who are not a part of our immediate family start using Familynese. I shudder to think what language Baba will speak when he heads of to kindergarten in 5 years.

Poonch: Boyfriend or Girlfriend. Example: My poonch is coming over tonight to smooch.
Poonchies: More than one poonch. A couple.
Take she's tub: Take a bath.
Hotch: Hot
Way Brr: Cold
Chee Brr: Very cold
Nah-Are-Sha-Bar: No
Ocht!: No way!
Ocht McGruber: I don't believe you
Smell ya!: Talk to you later. Love you.
Lub you: I love you
Fungie smelling hungie: I love you a lot.
O'righta Potatoe: Okay
Sistra: Sister
Nut Doctor: my therapist
Baba GoiGoi: Baby boy
Babeis: Baby

More to come.....
Including the lyrics to the second greatest song ever written "Asthma Dog!" (Zippy believes the greatest song ever written is "Ya-hoo for boobs and butts," written and sung by Zippy. He is a very good singer slash songwriter. I just hope he doesn't quit his day job).

How Zippy and Gaft Girl Got Engaged

Happy 4th of July! What a holiday! You celebrate the birth of our country by blowing a piece of it up. Not that I'm complaining because I really like blowing things up. And fireworks are quite pretty. I'm just not a big fan of those people who insist on starting the barrage of bottle rockets on June 1 and continue the "show" until the snow flies.

Random Note: Either my cat has gone completly crazy or she has bravely cornered a bug of some sort. Both are very feasible options. Forgive me, I have the attention span of a fruit fly with ADD or ADHD (your choice, I'm feeling generous today), thus am easily distracted.

Back to my thoughts on the 4th. Normally, I dislike the 4th. The 4th involves showing up at the in-laws for a day of listening to my father-in-law (whom I'll call FIL, get it? FIL) complain about the weather. The sun could be shining and it could be a balmy 80 degrees and he would find a reason to complain. It is also my brother-in-law's (whom I'll call BIL I. Okay, I'm seriously quitting my day job and becoming a comedian) birthday. So we celebrate BIL's birthday. Hooray!

Regression Alert: Back when Zippy and I first got engaged (the story of which I will regale you with shortly) FIL and MIL (I'll let you guess who MIL is) took us out for dinner (I'm always up for free food) and a movie. FIL set the night off right by listing every federal US holiday (I'm surpised we didn't discuss Bastille Day or Boxing Day) and letting us know which holidays we were to spend with Zippy's family and which holidays he would generously allow us to spend with my family (Valentines day with my family? Oh, you are too kind). Well, I'm sort of opinionated and thought why should we spend all the "good" holidays like Memorial Day and fishing opening, oh, and Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Labor Day, with Zippy's family. Thus, holiday's have been a battle ever since. Ahh! The stress, and joy, of families.

Anyway back to the story of How Zippy and Gaft Girl Got Engaged. Back in 2002, after the family festivities, we left to go to our local amusement park, Valley Fair. We stopped at my parents house (fun fact which makes my life even more stressful at times - my in-laws and parents live in the same town. Zippy and I were high school sweet hearts. Ahhh.) and for once, Zippy didn't want to come inside. Which was weird, but I didn't really think to much of it.

We drove to Valley Fair. And Zippy's heavy foot got us pulled over, but because Zippy is related to half of my hometown (FIL has 13 brothers and sisters), he didn't get a ticket because the cop was his uncle.

After a day of riding, eating (cheese curds anyone?), and sunburning (me and the sun are not friends. I see the sun and boom! sunburned. SPF 70, what a joke!) Zippy says he needs to go out to the car. A little weird, but I comply.

He tells me I can't look in the trunk of my car. Normally I would fight him on this; he can't tell me what to do! But, I just pretend I don't really, really, really, really, really want to know what's in the trunk.

We got back inside to watch the fireworks and Zippy pulls out this amazing ring and asks me to marry him. It is the only time in my life I've ever been speechless. I think I managed to either say yes or nod my head.

We head home and I keep looking at my finger because it feels so unreal.

1st Post

A typical day for me (in which I search for the ever elusive, 15 minutes of peace):
5:24 Alarm goes off. Small child who lives at my house (lovingly referred to as "The Boy" or "Baba Goi-Goi") has once again cranked the volume. I promptly shut off said alarm and tell my husband to get up. He does so.
5:24:30 I fall back asleep
5:31 I hear Baba making noises. I will him to fall back asleep.
5:47 I hear Baba yelling "Momma!" I think, "If it wasn't pre-6 am, that would be cute."
5:48 I fall back asleep.
5:49 "Momma's" become more urgent.
5:50 I throw off the covers (disturbing Wili in the process) and make my way, with my eyes still closed, to Baba's room.
5:50:30 Baba, excited to see his momma, begins jumping up and down in the crib.
5:50:35 Eyes still closed, I remove Baba from his crib, check to make sure his super soaker (noun-overly wet diaper because a certain small child likes to drink until his belly swells before he goes to bed. We may have to change this habbit before potty training begins) hasn't soaked his pajamas, and return to my nice warm bed to cuddle for 9 minutes 25 seconds with the boy.
6:01 Husband kicks me out of bed (not literally)
6:05 Breakfast. I have whatever fantastic sugar cereal that I was not allowed to have as a child was on sale. Baba has pancakes (yes, plural) or waffles (again, plural)
6:17 I think, "Oh! Crap! We've got to leave in 10 minutes.
6:17:30 Throw some enormously healthy lunch together
6:18 Brush teeth
6:19 Tickle Baba
6:20 Brush hair.
6:21 Give hair brush to Baba who is now throwing a fit because he didn't have hairbrush.
6:22 Pick out an outfit.
6:22:30 Get belly slapped by Baba (he is obsessed with slapping bellies, his, mine, husband's, anyone who's shirt he can lift up).
6:23 Change my mind about outfit. Step on hair brush which Baba has lost interest in and thrown on the floor.
6:23:15 Don't swear. The boy will hear you and the last thing you want is him saying any of your choice words at day care.
6:33 Leave the house. Late again.
6:45 Drop Baba off at day-care. Wave bye-bye.
6:46 Fall asleep in car.
7:26 Awaken to find that you are now at work (curses!). I should probably explain that my husband and I work at the same place, so I am not sleep-driving every morning. I am sleep riding.
7:30 Kill time until lunch.
12:00 Eat lunch.
12:30 Trudge back to my cell....I mean cubicle.
12:45 Curse self for not packing better lunch.
12:46 Zone out until its time to go home.
4:00 Hop (yes, some days I do hop) into car. Complain about work as we drive home.
4:45 Pick up Baba. Get hugs and kisses.
5:00 Get home. Give Wili her treat and change out of my dressy clothes.
5:15 Make supper.
5:30 Eat supper.
5:45 Clean up supper with Baba's help.
6:00 Bike ride
6:30 Bath time for Baba
7:00 I put all the water that "fell" out of the bath tub back into the bathtub and shower while husband puts the boy to sleep.
7:30 Clean up and other various household things.
8:30 Start asking if it is time for bed yet (when you have a hard time getting to sleep and staying a sleep, you tend to want to spend many hours in bed).
9:00 Crawl into bed, for real this time.
9:15 Realize I forgot to do something really important and get out of bed to do said important thing.
9:30 Cuddle with husband.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Always Repeat.

Technically, this is my third or fourth post. A lifetime ago, my husband (who I'll call Zippy when I remember to use an alias besides husband (which, is far more creative)) was then my boyfriend, used to post on this fantasy football site. Well, one day I really needed to get ahold of him, but the phone was busy (curse you dial up!). So, I created a profile, joined his football site, and started a thread telling him to get off the phone. A little strange, but it worked.

My cat is telling me that it is almost time for bed, so I'll be brief (she isn't saying, "Mom, time for bed" its more like she is trying to gnaw my foot off. What is the deal with her biting me?!). I am 24 years old. I've been married for 3 years as of August. I have a 16 month old son, a slightly over weight cat named Wili (she, yes, I know Wili is a boy name, but that's her name too, is my first baby. If you want to make something of her name, I'm sure she'd love to fight. She's pretty mean), and postpartum depression. But fear not, I'm not going to mope and whine and complain (too much).

I have a job that I hate (my boss is a Jerk-with-a-capital-J, among other reasons) and love/hate relationship with my townhome. I have an amazing husband who I tend to take for granted and pick some pretty good fights with (all the ladies who fight with people inside their heads because they can't stand being wrong and want to plan for every posible course of an argument stand up!).

I have a BA in English, which I am still trying to figure out how to use. I'm sure Property Casualty insurance (which I hate) utilizes my degree in some way, I just haven't put my finger on it. And I'm debating whether I should go back to school.