my blog is cursed.

EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME I say something here...


the precise opposite occurs.


fine, bliggity blog. have it your way.

I'm ugly.
my boobs are tiny.
I don't want to make any money.
I like stress.
I don't need new clothing...


and your mom is gorgeous.

SURPLUS!!!

I know we're missing something in the calculations.

several things, I'm sure.


HOWEVER, we just determined that with all (forty-eight million) of our jobs...we won't starve during the winter months.

amen.
hallelujah.
praise be to...something.

I'm gonna splurge and buy the quilted TP tonight.

words from the wall

thieved from some posters on the classroom wall:

Watch your thoughts,
they become words.

Watch your words,
they become actions.

Watch your actions,
the become habits.

Watch your habits,
they become your character.

Watch your character,
it becomes your destiny.




No Slackers

to be a leader you gotta be:
movin', shakin', problem solvin', positive thinkin', crowd involvin', class leadin', example settin', student servin', results gettin', character buildin', team creatin', working together, cooperatin'.

The school will NEVER be the same!!!



For Today

For today, I will embrace life.
For today, I will make the best of my circumstances.
For today, I will celebrate the joy of simple things.
For today, I will learn something new.
For today, I will be a better person.
For today, I will reach out to someone in need.
For today, I will be thankful.
For today, I will dream with my eyes open.
For today, I will laugh.
For today, I will encourage a friend.
For today, I will use my imagination.
For today, I will relax.
For today, I will listen.
For today, I will take time...



SELF-CONTROL IS KNOWING YOU CAN, BUT DECIDING YOU WON'T.



Make an effort, not an excuse.



Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.



Don't make excuses...make improvements.

I yelled at her

she had it coming.

I think because we've always had such a close relationship. because I've always seen her as such a source of entertainment and joy. because she's rounding the corner of young adulthood...and I've been tip-toeing the discipline line, so as not to become yet another despised parent of a big-headed, hormone bloated teenager...

that I've dropped the ball a bit lately.

I've been too soft on her, so today I yelled at her.

she was being whiny, self-indulgent, non-cooperative and a general purpose pain in the ass. she's been playing the attractive and charming card and wimping out on any real responsibility. she charmed her way through grade school (had 'em eating out o' her hand, she did)...and is attempting to employ the same tactics now.

sans success.

yeah, she had it coming.

I've been really pushing her to read. expand her horizons. electronic devices and rap music irk me to high heaven after 3.67 seconds and I'm BOUND AND DETERMINED to get her to turn them off. (Not to mention college, SAT's, being able to speak intelligently and ultimately finding a productive and enjoyable place in this world)...

and read.

today, I gave her the option of two different books, both of which I read (and loved) at her age...and she snubbed her nose at both. made excuses. lolly gagged. rationalized. and actually CRIED because I told her to get the hell off the computer and read.

then I yelled at her.

if she insisted one more goddamn time that "we should do something fun since its my last day of vacation"...I was going to cut her hair off.

instead, I yelled at her.

I told her that life is not one big ol' party. you don't ALWAYS get to play. you don't ALWAYS get to choose your activity. and it isn't always (loud or) fun.

she sulked. I fumed.

she's been tippy toeing her way down the lazy, indulged, incapable path for the better of two months now...all without me taking any serious assertive action. I was going to let her self-regulate...



but whiny, entitled children grow into....

well...whiny entitled adults.


not on my watch.





she had it coming...really.

day off number 5

while I'm not ENTIRELY enamored with sitting around all day listening to the dogs lick their asses...


its better than stressing over 20 kids whose learning is resting solely in my (in)capable hands.

day off number 5, it is.

climbed, rode and fell this weekend. the body is sore but the spirit is refreshed.

I think I'm going to paint another room today.


as an aside: vitamin b-12, I love you.

you've got to be shitting me

7:35pm was the revelation of my blessings and subsequent resolve to remain positive.

8:05pm I went to go poo, got to thinking (as one does on the can) and came to yet ANOTHER brand spanking new and contradictory conclusion.

guilt.

I feel tremendously fucking guilty.

I was all cozied up, warming the seat, feeling good about my life when I said to myself, "Life is good, at least you aren't lonely"

then holy shit storm of shit storms (figuratively. the actual poo was frightened off by the emotional one)....

it hit me.

HE IS LONELY.

and its entirely my fucking fault.

I've been disallowing myself comfort and calm because I've caused him the opposite.


now all the peace and serenity of 38 minutes ago is gone...

replaced, once again...

by guilt.




tell me....somebody...PLEASE...

that this ends.

well.

for all of us.

b(e)

it's 7:35. wednesday night. I'm alone in the house (strange that it seems to have taken me several hours to realize that) when I realized:

I'm lying in my bed, in my jammies...with nothing but a book and a bean burrito...

and I'm content.

perspective.

mine just changed. if the only thing I need in my life to quiet my nerves and rejuvenate my spirit is some down time...

I'm ridiculously lucky.

there was a time in my life when an empty house (quite the rarity) and a book wouldn't have been enough. would have been depressing. I needed so much more. times when I felt lonely. unloved. lost.

my life is so full, now. sometimes full to the point of bursting...full with a drooling dog or two eyeing up both my bed and my burrito...but full.

experiences. positive, negative, neutral...I'm pretty fucking lucky to have as many as I do.

I'm loved. I'm secure. I'm productive. I get hugs from children. I make love to my man. I kiss a beautiful child good night. I pet my loyal dogs. I walk barefooted on my cold cold floors.

I remember times in my life when I couldn't say those things. I like these times better. my plate might be full and I might get overwhelmed.

but, right now...

I'm cool with that.



I'll count myself among the lucky ones and shoot for one bean burrito book night among many scrambling, shuffling others...

to retain some perspective.

green must be my color

because I feel much better.

whether it was the process of working together to make it more "our" bedroom (getting his furniture in there would help, as well), or the catharthis of clean walls...

or I just got really high off the fumes...

either way, I feel better.

I'm still concerned about things, but not overwhelmed the way that I was Saturday.

mess. I was a hot steaming mess.

now, I think I'm taking things in stride, again.

I'm worried about going under for a "scoping"...but I'm not having feverish nightmares over it.
I'm pressed for time and still feel I haven't been doing my girls in the shelter justice, but I'm not crying my eyes out over it.
I'm scared for my sister, but have accepted my role.
My students are needy, cute, naughty and transient...and I'm OK with that (I guess).

all in all, I feel mostly recovered.

and thank fricking god, for that.

I REALLY didn't like feeling like that.

my sister has cancer (and other things that make me cry)

Oqui says that one of the things he loves most about me is that I always end a sentence/conversation/discussion with "well, the good news is..."

problem is...I'm having trouble seeing the good in the good news, lately.

I'm a mess. my emotional control is set to zero. I cry while I laugh. I laugh at myself crying...then I REALLY cry.

I'm afraid I'm losing it. I feel despondent and hopeless.

I look at the man I love and feel only fear that something will take him from me.
I look at the children I teach and realize that in a few short weeks, they'll no longer be "my kids."
I look at my beautiful and amazing daughter and hear her voice resounding in my head, "you go. I'll stay here and live with daddy."
I think of my youngest niece, cut-off from the entirety of her family for the last 8 months, and wonder, "will she remember aunt NeeNee? does she miss babydoll heaven. has her mother made her hate us?"

my sister has cancer. she hasn't spoken to us (including her two teenage daughters) since she lost custody..and I found out last night she has cancer.

I'd been feeling so indescribably horrible lately, that I've done a ton of soul searching...trying to figure out what's wrong. I've identified 33 bazillion things that make me sad, but not one of them seems to be "it."

it's indescribable.

then it hit me. this pain...may not be my own.

my mother and sister and I have always had a bond. we've ALWAYS known when something was wrong with one of the others.

our great-grandmother called it "the sight."

intuition, esp, empathy, non-existant bullshit...

whatever you wanna call it. it's strong.

so strong that over the last few months...even the mention of the word "sister" brought me to tears.

she's not well. she's never been well. her entire life has been one of pain, emotional torment, insecurity and fear.

she's never been well.

now that's she PHYSICALLY unwell...I feel that, too.

and there's nothing I can do about it. her boyfriend told me (on the sly) that she waited too long. its worse than it should be. she has surgery scheduled for the end of the month...

and she thinks she's dying.


my sister has wanted to die for many many years. she's often tried to take her life, herself. she won't speak to any of us.

how does a person in that state find the will to fight?

I hate this. I can't help her. I'm so unstable, myself, right now....so much going on...that EVEN IF she would speak to me...

she'd drag me under, too.

so we wait. we hold our breath and send our vibes. I don't want to lose my sister.

to cancer. to suicide. to silence.

I don't want to lose my sister.







(and in an effort not to overwhelm myself with sadness any further)

...but the good news is:

-oqui bought me a crock pot. just when I thought there was nothing on earth he could do to cheer me up, I went downstairs and found it. the crock pot I had taken OUT of my cart the night before, unable to justify the expense. the crockpot I wished whole-heartedly that I had the following day when one of my old ones spilled (my awesome sausage stew) in my car, and the handle broke off of the other spilling my (awesome) columbian beef stew on the school parking lot...as I was locked out of the school...arms full, problem child spazzing while someone else watched my room...guilt piling on.

yeah, he bought me the 5 quart one with the travel handles, latching lid and spill-proof seal.

-I was coaxed out of my bedroom yesterday by an unexpected call from my friend stephanie. she was in my area. she was doing well. she had met a man. she wanted to see me. she's no longer depressed and trying to kill herself and she was alive.

alive and well.

we ate, we drank, we reminisced and were merry. I almost didn't let it bother me that she's scheduled to have yet ANOTHER lump removed from her breast tomorrow. I'm really fucking tired of cancer...


-my youngest niece is in kindergarten. exposed to the real world...and doing well. while her older sisters bore the brunt of my sister's instability before...she's bearing it, now.

but doing well. for all intents and purposes...

she's a normal little kid. I cried for an hour after hearing that.

for once, lately, tears of relief.

-I decided if I'm going to spend the rest of my life crying in the bedroom...I might as well paint it. we're going with green. I'm going to paint the walls, the dogs, my hair and my man...

and hopefully smile while doing it.

breaking news. this just in...

the suki...

aint so stable.

I'm not particularly "normal" and sanity, I've discovered...is relative.

I guess I'm what you would call a "high functioning" momo. I talk a good game. I even put on a good face and make a good showing of it (occasionally I even dress the part. I'm tempted to abandon this blog right here and instead devote the next 2500 words or less to the pantyhose with the droopy crotch I wore today, but...).

then I come home and bawl my eyes out...almost daily.

work is VERY difficult for me. partly because its difficult work (2nd graders are evil) and partly because I'm still extremely gun shy and not too terribly confident in my ability to perform under pressure.

(for you cyclists out there read: I will NEVER race. hiding in the back is one my favoritist things to do)

see...I had a bad run of it at my first job. well, my only REAL job. I was fresh out of college. had a brand spanking new diploma with summa cum laude marks, a 5 year old...and hadn't slept in three years. I was ripe for a break down.

and boy, did I.

I was overwhelmed, undermined, back-stabbed, dicked around, toyed with, played a fool and quit mid performance review with verbiage to the effect of "I will NOT subjugate my soul to DA MAN!!"...

and left to "write a book."

folks, this blog and several cocktail napkins full o' dribble is as close as I've come to writing anything.

since then I've spent the latter portion of seven years fearing leaving my home, REALLY fearing job/career/performance expectations/criticism/pressure/normal tasks of functioning adults in the course of daily living and believe it or not...

money.

(^ by far NOT my biggest fear, mind you)

so now I've shed the comfort of house-wifery, taken to the work force, bought myself some teacher shoes...

and again with the crying almost daily.

shop: 1, suki: 0

I'm 20 minutes late everyday. most days I'm lucky to beat the kids to the classroom. mostly because I have the most god awful time walking out the door.

I.just.don't.want.to.leave.

I was home by 3:00 today. promptly donned my jammies...and don't intend to leave my bedroom again until I'm 72.

years old.

you can't make me do it.

well, YOU can't...but the chinese food delivery guy (yeah, I'm not even leaving the house for food) could POSSIBLY tempt me to leave my bedroom...but only if Oqui were to break both of his legs and not be able to fetch it for me.

I'm planning on peeing out the window, shitting in the hamper, and eating the dogs when I run out of chinese.

I'm officially throwing in the towel (the shower's in the bathroom. I won't be needing it) and calling it quits.

life is overwhelming.

I'm taking a sabbatical.

nope (aka FUCK YOU, STRESS)

nope. not gonna do it, anymore.

I outright fucking refuse to let you get to me.

yeah, this shit is frustrating.

yeah, I'm fucking tired.

yeah, I feel like I'm failing.

and NO. no, you are not going to fucking beat me.

fuck you, stress.

I climb goddamn mountains on bikes and in harnesses, bitch. I gave birth to an almost 9 pound child. I eat gun powder for breakfast and wash it down with badger bile. I shot JFK, motherfuckers. what the hell you got on me?

I'll tell you what...nothing.

nada

zip

zilch

nunca

neine

diddly

zippo

naught

zot

nix

nihil

scratch

zero

forget jesus...I asked myself today What Would SUKI Do?

I'll tell you what. she'd roll up her fucking sleeves, dig in her heels, fight down her demons and wreck some moficking shop.

dear shop,

prepare to have your shit wrecked.

love always,

teh suki

new post

this is me...posting.

this is me pretending my forearms aren't sore and my hands don't hurt.

this is me ignoring my dog begging (quite audibly) at the back door to go drop a deuce.

this is me waiting for the devil to get home so we can sin together.

this is me hoping that tomorrow morning is oh-so-far away and that when it gets here I don't suck at it.

this is me...still posting and ignorning my crying dog.



I know I'm lame. I know I've been stuck on fuss lately. I read my blog. I then reread it a week later and realize how annoying I was being.

and yet...

this is me...still being me.



I do have one thing going for me, though...

I make whiny look GOOD!

yawn.

I'm exhausted.

I've been having fitful sleep, at best, lately. tons of nightmares. most recently of snakes and demons chewing their way out of my ass.

anxiety over revisiting the whole ass doctor thing much? due to recent events: its decided.

I'm having the colonoscopy.

and I'm throwing oqui's alarm clock out the window tonight (not his fault, mind you),

but did I mention I NEED SLEEP?

the kid has been gone half an hour, the O has been gone for 20 minutes and it is all I can do not to go back to sleep. for six hours.

I'm so tired.

instead of fighting with the alarm clock(s) and going back to sleep, I finally gave in today and got up with him. I got the (sick) kid out of bed, let the dogs out, escorted the kid to the lower level bathroom (she refused to go on her own. there was a bug), packed his lunch (complete with padded red bra and a naughty note that he's going to be finding any. minute. now...) and had myself some cereal...

at home for once.

did I mention that I'm tired?

the teacher I was supposed to be covering for for TWO weeks had way more complicated surgery than expected...and is now out for another FOUR.

dear, lord...I'm tired.

parent teacher conferences this week. I no speaka da spanish (I mused a bit last night over how I live so near an area where english seems to be either a lost or yet to be acquired art).

as soon as my last parent leaves today...I'm coming home, putting on my in-home only pants (I wore them outside for the very first time EVER yesterday. velour ass enhancing, side stripe thigh enhancing, torn crotch cooter enhancing lack of aesthetics, and all).

it was one of the most ghetto things I've ever done (since high school, anyway)...

all because I'm tired.

meltdown

saturday...


was not a good day.

in fact, it was the mother of all frustration. the nexus of evil in an evil suki's life. it was the nucleus of disaster.

it was...simply put...my breaking point. just ask sam. she got the 3 page hysterical text message. (ps. so sorry about that, yo)


We were supposed to be at oqui's mother's house all day to help her winterize the house (ie. eat pizza). My niece's birthday party was at 4...her father needed company and support (single father of two girls with 12 thirteen year old girls in his house=ready to crack). I wanted to meet Sam at the climbing gym for some harness time and a box o' goodies. I was hungry. We had two showings on the house, a massive mess to clean up and an ignorant family of 4 showed up unannounced, came into my home (by my good graces) and insulted it in front of me.

I spazzed.

I was running frantically around the house crying, pointing out everything wrong with it. everything I SHOULD have done to it. everything I did do that sucked. this plant doesn't belong here. these curtains should be hung. this wall is smudged. this window is dirty. these floors are a mess. this carpet is disgusting.

Oqui finally snatched me up, gave me a hug and pointed out that...

they got to me.

and boy did they. I felt so violated. I'm sooooooo busy and these fools show up unannounced (I had a sponge in my hand when I opened the door)...and have the nerve to snub their nose at my property. MY HOME because my yard isn't big enough or the floors are scratched.

it hurt. bad.

Oqui (still hugging me) told me to quit the second job. he asked me if it was worth it to try to help others with their kids...when I felt like I had so little time with my own. when I mourn the loss of reading time. when I WISH I had cooked dinner last night. when I have to pay someone else to walk my dogs instead of running them, myself.

when I feel like a stranger in my own house b/c I haven't had the time or money to make it my own....

and now I'm selling it.

where the fuck DO I live, anyway? where is my home?

everything I do to that house is to convince someone else that their couch would look stellar in the living room.

fuck that. if it doesn't sell in the next few weeks I'm taking it off the market, painting the bedroom chocolate brown and baking a pie for us.

...not because it makes the house smell warm and inviting for rude and retarded strangers...

because it makes it feel like home for US.

lord have MERCY on these children!!!

Miss Suki's doing report cards.

that's right boys and girls...its time. your teacher aint back...and I get to do the honors.


remember when you called me a dirty fish bitch and thought I didn't hear?

yeah. I heard you, mofo.

remember when you got your head stuck in the chair because you can't sit yo ass down?

yeah. that falls under "ability to regulate own behavior," "follows all school rules," "respects school and others' property," and "gets on teacher's last fucking nerve incessantly".

it's go time, mofickers.

I've gained four pounds stress eating over your dull-eyed, flat tailed asses....and now.

NOW I GET MY REVENGE.

those of you who are quiet, good, sweet and/or cute.

A's.

all of them. I don't give a rat's fuzzy nutsack if you failed every fucking test. if you didn't drive me ape shit...

honor roll time.

I'll throw you the pizza party.

I'm making shit up so blatantly (instructional reading level=on level, my ass) that I'm going to burn in hell with a sub-zero parka on...and I don't give a flick.

revenge. is. mine.

oh yeah...I'm also doing your conferences.

ha. fricking. ha. ha hahahahahahahahahahahah

tell yo momma to come early. I got lots to say.

j-dawg...you're going down.
l-diddy...this will only hurt for a minute.
s-monster...you had this coming from the moment I laid ears on you, you screechy little fuck.

I'm gonna go on downstairs, pour myself the mother of all glasses of cheap ass wine...and set my pen to blazing.


Miss Evil Suki (of teaching infamy)


ps. my dog's pecker has been out for hours. he and my other mutt have been taking turns licking it.

I'm jealous...not because I can't lick his peener (cause technically...I could), but because no one is licking mine.

incommunicado

it would appear that in my blind rage rush (I hate my ass. I really hate my ass) to get out of the house this morning...

I forgot my cell phone.

I also can't dial an outside number from my classroom line.

I can't check my web-mail from district computers (its only a matter of time before they block blogger on me, as well)...

and my carrier pigeon is out with the flu.

if you, dear reader, or anyone you know is trying to get in touch with me (a little to the left, please.)...

my bad.

voila!

I'm having a much better day.

I spent 40 minutes picking an outfit.
rolled in late.
ate my breakfast with the monkies waiting outside the door.
put the smack down on 'em.
set them up in groups to work (read: leave me THE HELL alone).
opened the windows.

it's only 78-80 in here, now.


MUCH better.


ps. I decided to treat myself to a fantastical meal tonight. I'm making quinoa, tilapia and squash. this shitty diet nonsense stops NOW.

now, I say.

*throws out the snickers wrappers*

crud

we had a yicky day.

climbing, food, sex, ibuprofen.

nothing seemed to help.

we're calling it a night and checking out.





...maybe trying sex, again, first...

some days...it just isn't worth it.

yesterday I was kicked, bitten and spit on by a (let's face it....crazy as a shit house rat) 3 year old. he called me a dirty fish bitch. nice one.

his mother sat and did nothing.

I didn't hit him.

then there're my two doozies in the classroom.

several 3 page notes home about my male harbinger of doom netted me a 90 minute phone call with mom last night...

and the same fucking behavior today.

awesome.

my little angel female star student is proving to be somewhat more of a problem for me.

this one...accused me of kicking her. mom came to school with her earrings already off...ready to fight. fortunately, the vp had my back and psuedo-diffused the situation.

I left mom a phone message (no response. hmmm...) and spoke to vp, guidance counselor, jesus mary and joseph about it. the initial thought was that I'm in the clear...

then she started drawing me.

wolves, sharks, ghosts and ghouls all ripping my soul out.

she called me a dog. a bitch. a fish (?) and drew lions chasing me.

on a good day she'll draw me 15 0r 20...one or two of them good (the lions won't be eating me...just chasing me with smiles on their faces).

on a bad day her entire journal is filled with "Miss Suki suxorz teh anus" type messages.

this one needs help.

a gazillion teachers have offered to back me on all counts. the fact that I didn't kick her (hard enough). the fact that she's disruptive...

and the fact that she's fucking crazy.


there are too many of them like this.

I'm not sure I can help.

I'm tired of being abused.

I wanna go home.

wonder woman (I aint)

with my newly (refound) sense of ability and worth (I was lazy. real lazy.) I've come to (re)realize a few things.

one.

the more I put on my plate....the more capable I become. it seems my only limitation in terms of the sheer sprawl of committment is the number of hours in the day.

and I'm good on six hours sleep.

b.

starting...is the most difficult aspect of any project. just getting my ass in gear. committing. deciding its worth doing...

all the hardest part. I adapt (prepare for assimilation) quickly and work new tasks into my routine pretty easily.

I only stress over them when I'm hormonal.

so all in all...I'm normal 25/30 days.


number eleventy.

my capabilities end JUST shy of making homemade guacamole. I killed two avocados last night. murdered.

it was as if the aperature of hell opened wide and spewed forth a vile green slime into my kitchen...

and I ate it....or at least tried to.

the memory of that taste haunts me. it was like death...in a food processor. it was two bunnies killed at the moment of bunny love climax, then stir fried in horse liver, garnished with pig spleen and topped off with olives (I hate olives something fierce).

to make matters worse: my kitchen exploded in the process. the blender. the food processor. two cutting boards. every knife I own (that's 3, btw). the counters. defleshed pulp everywhere. slices of skin.

horrid.

it gets worse still. I sent oqui on a grocery store run for tortillas to eat my guacamole with....

two bags of chips+no guacamole=rubbing it in my face.

fuck this vegetable shit.

tonight...

I'm making cookies.

pillow talk v11.04

him: it happened again.
me: what happened?


him: I love you more today than I did yesterday. I didn't think it was possible...


me: I'm not complaining.
him: I 'spose not.


me: however, this WILL have to stop at some point
him: yeah. if it keeps up like this...my head'll implode. brains everywhere



me: yeah, we don't want that.
him: nope. we don't want that.

cheddah.

how often do you think about your money (or lack, thereof)?

how important is it to you?


I've been all over the board on money issues.

I grew up poor. I went to college poor. I met a man who wasn't poor and spent five or so years being psuedo-wealthy. I was 22 years old and wearing $400 cashmere sweaters...to nightclubs. lame.

then I grew up, left him, and got a job of my own. I bought a new $30,000 car, was four and a half minutes away from buying a $200,000 house (8 years ago, mind you)...then quit my job and was poor, again.

I spent the next four or five years living with my mother, raising kids (mine and others) and living off of less than $10,000/ year. (during this time I was also kicked out of medical school, dropped out of grad school and managed to amass another 20 or 30k in student loans to add to my already alarming heap).

then I got married. the hub made a decent living, we seemed to always have some cash around, we bought a nice house or two...

and unknowingly racked up another 20 grand in credit card debt (suki's advice: NEVER buy a fixer upper).

now, I'm poor, again.

I don't make alot of money. I don't have any savings. I haven't worked full-time more than 8 months my entire life...

and I'm worried about money.

I always took for granted that I'd have what I need...and I do. but will I when I'm 70? by the time we dig ourselves out of debt (its bad. real bad)...we'll be in our mid 30's with no net worth.

it sucks. we should have a network of investment properties by then...a good headstart on a nest egg and a college fund or two for potential rug-rats.

instead, we'll be working two jobs each for the next three years just to pay off the past. I'm scared of this concept. don't get me wrong...I'm financially responsible. I've got amazing credit (thanks, mark.), I'm frugal beyond all comprehension, and I don't need to spend money to have fun.

however, I've also got a house that I can't afford that won't sell...half of the equity owing to the ex (assuming there IS any)...and I don't want to keep taking the little bit of money HE still has to pay the mortgage.

borrowing against the equity to pay the mortgage makes me uncomfortable.


raise your hand if you're comfortable with your financial position? plant your foot in someone's (someone who has their hand raised, preferably) ass if you're not.

tell me how you got there.

tell me what you'd do.

4 minutes

til my children show up.

is it wrong that I'm sitting here, not so secretly wishing that all of them fell ill?



more to blog later...I've got a doozie in the works.


good days to all!

(^especially me. I don't want to be mean today)

Suki (still feels rotten. HA! not YOU, rob!)

if you have a penis...

stop reading here.

if you have a uterus...my condolences.

you wanna know the only thing on the planet thats actually worse than HAVING my period???

not having it.

more specifically...the process of getting it.

the 'P' in PMS has been driving me to lunacy for the last four days.

FOUR???

motherbitch, it used to be two!!! why is it that as I get older...my stretch of agony increases exponentially?

fuck you, hormones. fuck you hard (mmmm...not a bad idea, actually...)

I've been covered in kid snot and cow poo for days and doing my best to fight off a monster germ. echinacea tea, zinc tablets, multi-vitamins, fresh fruit, vitamin c like its my job, trying to get some rest, hot baths, etc...

then auntie flow starts planning her visit, making reservations, setting up shop and preparing camp....

my strength (and patience) reserve goes to zero...

and voila!

the suki is sick.

I woke up this morning feeling like a rodeo clown. beat up. tired. bruised and looking ridiculous (my "fat pants" are NOT attractive).

I've got 22 kids with four tests tomorrow...I. must. pull. it. together.

we got through language arts (formerly known as "reading"). they seem prepared. if I can make it through "intervention," grammar, recess, math, social studies and dismissal...

I'll put a tick mark on the calendar, get into my jammies and pretend this whole debacle (me going to work peeming) never happened.

...and I'll do so without flipping anyone the bird.

promise.