OOOO! AAAHHHH!! AWWW.

When Piglet and I got home from ball practice today, there was an Iphone laying on my table. OOOO! I know! I was so excited. Then, not being one to jump the gun, I viewed it with a little more suspicion. Hmmm, it was dirty. A little banged up, for sure. Hesitantly, I picked it up and turned it on. It didn't explode, so I proceeded to make lots of international calls explore the options. AAAHHHH!! Him came into the room then and told me he found it this morning at a gas station laying on the pump. AWWW Disappointment. Not for me then. So I threw it on the floor and stomped it, the end.
No really, I played with it trying to figure out who it belonged to so we could call them. I am now officially in awe of this contraption. I must have one. Now. Thanks. Email me for my address so you can send it to me.
I have been a loyal customer of Sprint for over 10 years, a fact which I do not hesitate to remind them of monthly when haggling over my bill, but I think I could be seduced to give up my crackberry for this wonder.
Ok, enough about the Iphone, it's not like they're paying me. The purpose of this missive is to caution everyone about their phones. Firstly, don't leave them lay on the gas pump. But if you do, use caution about the information in them.
Just from going through the contacts in this man's phone to try to find a home number so I could return it, I discovered the following:
His name, home address, work place and address, profession, name of every family member in household, and his Visa number, expiration date and security code. And this was without even snooping! Imagine what I might have found if I knew how to work the thing and if I had wanted to dig.
So, I called the guy and returned the phone. He was appropriately grateful and offered a reward, but shucks, that furniture that's getting delivered next week? courtesy of his visa? That's thanks enough!

The 10th time's a charm or How I got pregnant

Well, see, when a man and a woman love each other, they hug and kiss and....

No really, my first three children were born when I was too young and dumb to deserve them, but I had them none the less. I didn't appreciate them for the true gifts they were and subsequently missed a good deal of their childhoods. Thank the stars for grandmothers. While my own mother sorely lacked in several areas of motherhood, she excelled at grand motherhood.

After meeting and marrying Him, and settling into domestic bliss (I can't even type that without rolling my eyes) he decided (cue ominous music) it was TIME. For him to be have a child. I pointed to the three currently sitting slack jawed and bug eyed staring at the idiot box. Oh, those were fine, he says, but he wants a baybee. A widdle, itty bitty, baaybeee. In all fairness, he had been upfront from our first date (??) about wanting to have a child. When we married,the Dude was 11, Apples 9, SweetieDarling 6. He was only 23 himself to my 28. I thought he'd get over it. I was Wrong.

I had my tubes tied after SweetieDarling because? I was done. with the childrens. My uterus was closed for business. Shut off the nursery, but the playground's still open. So I thought maybe the $15,000 it would cost to reverse the ligation would deter him. Wrong. Again.

So we consulted with the fertility doctor and scheduled the surgery. I was in NO WAY prepared for what that meant. Sure, I was told it was a six hour surgery and that I would be hospitalized overnight. I was told it was a six week recovery. But being told that and getting sliced open hipbone to hipbone are two different things.

After the surgery and the hideous, horrible recovery...btw, any of you out there who've had a C-Section? Huzzah's to ya girlfriend. Recovering from that and having a newborn? Good grief, I can't imagine.

After I recovered, we began to actively try to get pregnant. Which meant sex every two days. Why not every day? every man in the world asks. Because you have to let the sperm rest and regroup for a day. So on the second cycle, success! When you have a tubal reversed, you are monitored very closely because ectopic pregnancies are more common. So, at three days late, you are summoned to the lab for vial after vial of blood withdrawal. Levels of this and levels of that are checked and then the doctor will call and tell you that you are indeed pregnant. What said doctor does not tell you is what he means when he says "don't have a party yet". Look, either I'm pregnant or I'm not. Even I know you can't be a little bit pregnant. Well, poppets, apparently, you can.

Not knowing what the cryptic message meant, we go off for a celebratory weekend. A baby, whee! This is fun. I had never had a baby with someone who wanted to have a baby before. The first three's father (yes, just one) was reluctant, to say the least. And here I was, all growed up and married, and having a baby. Until I wasn't. Having a baby, that is.

What the doctor didn't tell me was that my baby growing levels were low and that I would probably miscarry. That would have been handy information to have. I had never had any problem carrying a pregnancy before (obviously). This was just a fluke, if we weren't monitoring so closely, it would have just been a late period. So, we keep trying.

And we keep getting pregnant. And we keep miscarrying. We never last long enough to get a heartbeat. I still don't know if that is a good thing or not. We have genetic testing done. I tell Him that his low class DNA just won't mix with my fancy stuff. I'm only partially kidding. Our DNA is fine. I'm fine, he's fine, we're all fine except for the NINE babies we've lost.

So we quit trying. and caring. I didn't want any dumb baby in the first place. You know they're pains in the ass, right? And all those little tramps out there who don't want or deserve their babies and don't know how good they've got it? They can just kiss my non baby carrying ass. And the smug asshats who oh so kindly offer that "they'd be happy to carry a baby for me", all the while feeling just a little superior to be able to offer? I hope they die a thousand deaths being ripped apart by the hounds of hell. Angry? Me? What gives you that idea?

So I go about my business, fat, dumb and happy. I go to my office and take my anger out on my staff do my work, and you know? I've got like killer heartburn. I really think all this stress gave me an ulcer. Great. More joy. Finally, I can't take it anymore. Off to urgent care I go. Just give me some antacid, make sure my ulcer isn't eating through my intestines and send me home.

My ulcer? He was born September 3, 2003.

Things I learned from my father

This should probably be titled "things my father tried to teach me". Some took, some didn't.

Measure twice, cut once. Trust me, this applies to a WHOLE lot more than lumber.

There is nothing you can't learn. Proved this by teaching me to break down and rebuild an engine.

Someone is always watching you. Paranoid much? Actually, his way of telling me to comport myself in such a way as to be respected. This one didn't take until my 20's.

You have to work hard to have nice things. This one I got when the National Bank of Daddy closed its wallet.

Don't be afraid to tell people how good you are. Got this one a little TOO good.

The less you say, the more people want you to talk. Epic fail.

There is nothing you can't do alone. Gotta disagree with this one.

Let your kids make their mistakes. Yeah, about that? Wish I had had more guidance.

If you can't see the mirrors, he can't see you. Check.

People will judge you by who you are with. Yeah, buddy.

Always keep $20 hidden somewhere in your car. Still do, to this day. Never know when I might need ONE GALLON of gas!

If you're going to illegally run electric to your garage, have someone stand by with a wooden board to break the current if you get shocked. Haven't had use for this one.

And my all time favorite.

When you fall off the roof, you can make yourself pass out before you hit the ground. WTF???

I feel so luurved!

I got tagged! My first meme! Woo hoo! I hope I don't run out of exclamation points!!! Sorry all ya'll that wanted to be my first, but my honor went to Ree at the Hotfessional. She's engaged to Candy, but apparently they have an open relationship. Now, on with the matter at hand:


Three books I've always meant to read, but haven't:


Stephen King, The Dark Tower VII



It's not that I just haven't read this book, it's that I don't want to. I don't want the Gunslinger's search for the tower to end. After investing 26 years, thousands of pages, and weeks if not months of reading about Roland and his ka-tet, I just don't want it to end. And if I don't read the last book, it won't. And if you're trying to tell me how it ends, I'm not listening, la la la la la.....








Beautiful Boy, David Sheff


Being the grand daughter of four alcoholic grandparents, and the daughter of an alcoholic father, my genes have polluted and corrupted my children. My heritage has made them more susceptible to the hell that is addiction. Anything I can read that will help me guide them away from that path is on my to read list.






The One Page Business Plan, Jim Horan

Because I need a plan and one page sounds about right.



Two books that changed my life:






Reviving Ophelia: Saving the selves of adolescent girls, Mary Pipher and Ruth Ross; and




Trees make the best mobiles, Jessica Teich and Brandel France de Bravo

These two books taught me so much about how to protect and nurture those fragile beings that are children. Of course, should you ask any of my brood, I'm dumb as a rock.

One book I've talked about since I've read it:





My Sister's Keeper, Jodi Picoult.

This is the one of the few books I've read that got me engaged and invested enough in the story and characters that I threw the book across the room at the end. I was so angry and disappointed and sad. But I read it again. It made me remember that everything isn't always as it seems, that there is always another point of view, and another set of beliefs.

There you have it. And I had to think about it too.

Take me out to the ballfield

Piglet's first day of T-Ball was Saturday. He's four. We're lucky if he can walk from the bathroom to the sofa without a monty pythonesque montage of pratfalls.

It was 45 degrees and windy, but none of the kids complained. The parents however, we cried like newborns, huddled in the dugout over a small fire of trash we foraged out of the bleachers.

I personally had envisioned two quiet hours lounging in the truck reading. Piglet had different ideas. My attention was required every 2.8 seconds. "Mom, did you see me run? Mom, did you see me hit? Mom, watch this, watch this, watch this." After 20 minutes of muttering "who is that kid, why's he calling me mom?" I gave in and left the relative shelter of the dugout to stand in the tornadic winds and shout encouragement. This consisted of "wrong direction, run the other way, don't hit people with the bat, put your mitt on your hand not your head, and get that ball out of your pants".

After an hour of watching eight four year olds run amok, we called it a practice, congratulated ourselves on being the best parents ever, and passed around the Hennessy. Good times.

Welcome Home: an Update

Thank you all so much for your concern. Being a solitary sort, I've never been one to share anything private, not even with family, so to put something out there and have actual support is thrilling. I have followed up on my eviction dilemma (like at 7am on Thursday) and am pleased to report that the mortgage company has no idea what could have happened, their records indicate all is well, blah, blah, etc... I won't bore you with the excruciating details, but tracking down the culprit involved trips to the county courthouse, sheriff's office, police station, and finally, law firm where the idiotattorney who did this worksworked.

A brief history: When I practiced law, I tried a case against "Lawyer A (for asshat*)". I won the case and Lawyer A took exception to some of the things I said against his client who was also his sister. He has held a grudge since (over ten years). He has done various small things in the past to try to upset me, but has never managed to do more than make me feel sorry for him. This time, he went too far in that he actually broke the law that he is sworn to uphold. You think he would've known I wouldn't let something like this slide, but he didn't even try to cover up his trail. His signature is there on the affidavit for the eviction!

I requested a meeting with the senior partner of the law firm, and with funky patterned folder full of proof, showed him what his associate did. In exchange for agreeing to hold the firm non-liable, they fired him on the spot. Yay! More reason for the nutjob to stalk me. He will also be sanctioned by the Bar and may (should) lose his license. I think he should go work with these guys. It sounds like he'd fit right in, and without his license, it'll be about all he can do.

I truly do hate to see someone lose their job, but he just went too far. If he would do that to me, over some imagined slight a decade ago, what else is he capable of doing? I shudder to imagine. I have a hearing on Monday for the restraining order, which his firm is handling for me. Can you say "salt in the wound"?

Revenge is a dish best served in a courtroom.

*for the life of me, I cannot remember where I first read the term asshat, but I would credit if I knew

You got served! Or GTFO...

So I'm standing in my kitchen last night, loading my dishwasher, minding my own biddness when guess who pulls up in my driveway? Yeah, the Sheriff. Now, I'm fairly hard to rattle, and I do tend to keep my cool at all times, but I'm pretty sure that a police car in the drive is never good news. Thankfully, Him and SweetieDarling were both home, so I didn't have that fear. (You know, the one where they take off their hat and say "Ma'am, I've got some bad news). Officer Fife spends a good ten hoursminutes shuffling papers and saying important stuff on his radio, while I'm in an agony of suspense. Finally, he comes to the door and, like he doesn't know I'm hovering on the other side (waiting to see if his gun is out) does his official policeman knock. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of the Official knock, it goes a lil somethin like this:

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!!!!!!!!

I answer the door all nonchalant, cause I'm cool like that and he verifies who I am and hands me a....wait for it......five day eviction notice!!!!! FIVE DAYS to get out of the house I've lived in for TEN years. Well, good folks of the internets, lets get one thing clear on the frontside: I'm not late with my mortgage. I haven't violated my agreement with my mortgage company in any way. I know that this is a mistake, a clerical error, the wrong account number transposed, any number of things. I know that, even if this summons is somehow legit, that I can fight it (I do have a bit of a legal background), but even knowing these things, I was more scared than I have been in a looooonnng time. And I don't like to be scared.

Because I got served in the evening, I had all night to worry about this. No one I could call to straighten it out, no one to reassure me that of course it was a mistake, that I wouldn't have to find a place to rent, pack up my house, uproot my children, board the dogs I have left, all in FIVE DAYS. It was one of the longest, scariest, most alone nights I've had for a while.

I had all night to ponder the sweat equity I've put into this house. How I bought it at an auction for $50k and made it worth many times that. How I gutted it down to the bones and rebuilt it the way I wanted it to be. How everything is geared to my height of only 5'. All the cabinets, shelves, anything I need to reach, I can. How the pool is located right up against the east deck, like another room in the house and how I would miss laying under the 80' oak tree in the front yard even though I curse it and wish blight on it when I'm cleaning up leaves and acorns. How the frogs just started singing in the pond last week, and the koi are just now waking, and how piglet's room gets flooded with the morning son and how DARE someone try to take my home. HOW DARE THEY? And then I got mad, good and goddamned pissed off is what I got. Who in the hell has the right to make someone feel vulnerable in their own home? How could someone be so careless as to go through all of the motions of filing an eviction order and not verify that their information is correct? Yes, law is boring and tedious, but it's a very detailed profession. DETAILS, like who you are seeking to evict, are very important.

I spent a night in hell because an under(if at all)paid intern at the law firm picked up the wrong file. I did my time as an intern and I know how easy it is to make a mistake, but I trained my share of interns too, and it was my job to catch their mistakes. Somebody didn't do his job. I know who, and why, and girlfriends, me and him's gonna have us a face to face reeeaal soon. Like Monday. I know what you're thinking, it was a mistake, they happen. Which is true and I admire your live and let live thinking. But a few too many mistakes have happened with this particular attorney for it to be coincidence anymore. He got bested by me a hundred years ago, in another lifetime, and just.can't.let it go. I'll let you know if there are any survivors.

But on a more positive note, I'm really appreciating my house right now. And I'll get that "breathe" tattoo next week.