Quitter

I've decided to quit smoking. Yes, again. Stop laughing. This time around, I decided to use the patch. I decided that if I could break the habit of doing, then I'd have a better chance of getting rid of the nicotine addiction. One step at a time, right?

Anyway, last night I put on the first patch. Tonight as I got ready for my shower, I removed that patch. The skin underneath is covered in a rash. I have a little square rash right on the back of my shoulder. This made me think that I shouldn't put another patch on. I read the label, and it said that you should stop using the patch if the rash doesn't go away within 4 days. Now, it didn't mention anywhere on the box the fact that you'd probably get a rash. It mentioned headaches and vivid dreams, but no rash. So, I googled it. Turns out the rash is entirely common and will go way within a day. Seems like that's an important bit of information that just wasn't given to me at the appropriate time. Good thing it's sweater weather.

But the patch seems to work. I haven't really wanted a cigarette all day. Until now. You see, this is the time of the night when both kids are in bed, but I'm still awake. This is usually when I waste time smoking. But tonight, I have to waste time other ways. This probably means I'll be blogging a lot more. You will all be treated with the random shit that goes through my mind while I'm cleaning and playing board games with the kids. Like tonight, when I spent a good bit of time wondering exactly why kids can't hear curse words. Interesting, no? At least when I finally go insane, you'll all have seen it coming. (Shut up. I am not already insane.)

Buy more makeup

Well, I guess this is why I'll never look like a woman in a magazine. Maybe if I had a neck stretcher....eBay here I come.

Christmas Lights

Vince: (Pointing at large tree in the middle of the back yard) I think we should put lights on that tree this year.

Me: Sure, I'd like that.

Vince: I think that if I took a ladder up the tree to the highest big branches, I could stand on it and reach the top.

Me: You know, I don't think I'd really like to have lights on that tree.

Vince: Or we could get some of that net lighting. I could pull it up to the top of the tree while standing on those big branches.

Me: Ok. That sounds like a much better idea.

Vince: But, we have to wait for it to get icy first.

Me: ...

Magic Dust

Yesterday afternoon, I was playing football with Tripp. By "playing football," I mean that I stood on the deck and listened to him babble as he stands in the yard below, trying to throw the football over the railing. Anyway, yesterday he was babbling on, and said "Mama, guess what. Today at school, I got to touch some magic dust." My first thought was, "Oh shit. He's 6, and I already have to worry about drugs at school?" I asked him who had the magic dust. He said that it was on the fence. I asked what color it was, and he said that no one can see it except the teachers. Now I'm really confused, so I asked how he knew it was magic dust. Then he explained. During PE, the coach told all the kids that the fence at the far end of the playground had magic dust on it. The kids had to run to the fence, get some of the magic dust, and bring it back to the coach. I guess that works out a lot better than telling the kids "Just run to the fence and back. You need the exercise. Fatass."

My Obituary

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Highly Dramatic

Little girls love drama. Actually, a lot of big girls love it, too...but I'm exposed to little girl drama on a more regular basis. Megan and her friends go through love/hate cycles. These life span of these cycles is about 18 hours. Maybe less. But that doesn't seem to stop the tears from falling. One night last week, Megan was crying at bedtime. I asked her why, and she related the following....all names have been changed, mostly because I can't fucking spell most of her friends names...

"Well, we were playing tetherball and Jane did a foul, so I called her on it, but she got mad and then she said she didn't like me anymore and then she made Sue not like me, and then they made Jill not like me, and then they started a club for not liking me and Betsy, Lola and Gloria all joined and now no one likes me and I'll never have another friend as long as I live."

My advice to her was to wait until the next day before accepting her fate as the school outcast. I pointed out that she's had arguments with her friends before, thought that they were the end of the world, and realized later that it wasn't such a big deal after everyone calmed down. I also pointed out that if several people get pissed at her, it's probably because she's being particularly bitchy that day.

The following afternoon, when I arrived at daycare to pick her up, I asked "Are your friends still your friends?" They were. Huh. Imagine that. Girl drama that isn't really all that dramatic.

Boy Are Different

I have a little trouble communicating with my boy. I try and try to understand what it is that goes on inside his head, but I just can't. I think that the problem is that he's 6 and he's male. Eventually the issues that come with being 6 will disappear, but the issues with being male....well, that won't go away. Unless there's surgery involved. And even then, I'm not sure that anything would change in his mental process. Boys just think differently than girls. Let me give you an example.

Last night, as I was going to my room to shower, I told Megan, "As soon as you finish your homework, take a bath. It would be nice if you were in the shower already by the time I get out of mine." She said ok. I showered. She was in the shower when I came out of my room. If that situation had involved Tripp instead of Megan, things would have worked differently. When I finished my shower, he wouldn't have been in the bath. He might not even have finished his homework. Hell, he might not have even started his homework. And, if I called him on it, his response would be "Well, you didn't say I HAD to be in the bath by the time you were finished. You said it would be nice."

Soccer Mom

My son is in a soccer program offered by the Boy Scouts. A Hispanic outreach program. I wasn't sure about letting him participate at first. But I decided to give it a chance, and so far, it's been a positive experience. No religious indoctrination whatsoever. Only patriotism indoctrination. Is that even a term?

On Friday nights, he plays soccer for 2/3 of the practice, and for the other third, he does some sort of Boy Scout activity. This past week, they learned how to fold the flag. They were also told about how great they have it, living in the United States. I kinda don't mind telling my kids things like this. Because I think it's true. There might be a lot wrong here, but there's a whole lot that's right as well.

Saturday night is game night. The kids show up and get assigned to a team, so that the same players aren't always on the same team and the kids get to interact with more people. When you sign in, you're given a card with the name of the team you'll play with. Last weekend, Tripp was assigned to the Squirrels, so we went off in search of his team mates.



The lady holding the sign most likely did not write the team name on it. She's a parent volunteer, chosen because she showed up with her kid first. She has to serve as coach to a group of 6 year old boys. Some of whom are likely to not speak her primary language. Her main job is to keep the kids waiting their turn off the field and away from the ball. Also preferably out of the net, but she wasn't completely successful with that one. At the end of the game, one net was at least 5 feet further to the left than it started. Bet she won't be early again. That'll teach her.

So it's official. I am now a soccer mom. Maybe someday soon I'll tell you something about my daughter's soccer/poetry program.

An Honest Wedding Ceremony

Bwahahaha!

Asshole of the Day

Yesterday, on my way in to work, I saw an asshole. Not like I saw balls during the wedding reception last weekend...but an asshole none the less. My route to work includes driving through a school zone. This particular school zone is fairly heavily patrolled. At least 2-3 days a week, there are a minimum of 3 cops lying in wait for speeders. I see people getting tickets there on a regular basis. I assume that most other people who travel this particular road daily are aware of the likelihood of getting a ticket if they're going faster than 20.

Anyway, yesterday, about 3 blocks before the school zone, there was a car going about 15 mph. In the left lane. I decided to pass him. The 5 cars behind me decided to pass him. Then he decided to wait until entering the school zone to speed up to about 40 and fly by all of us while flipping everyone off. I'm not entirely sure why he was so pissed. Probably because he's an asshole.

Sound Familiar?

The following was copied from a book called Einstein's Bridge, by John Cramer. See if any of you guys who work with me think of he same thing I thought of when I read it.

"Right," said Roger. "The DOE labs have essentially halted scientific research while everyone scrambles around attending safety seminars, writing detailed safety procedures for every conceivable scenario of possible disaster, and filling vast bookshelves with thousand-page documents that no one will ever read."

Now, in the book it's part of a plot to halt government funding of the Superconducting Super Collider, basically by making the project appear inept. The thing that this paragraph reminded me of is a current business practice that is meant to improve products.