ok, now I'm just stalling.

I made and ate Ramen Noodles, the packet which has been in the cabinet for over two years...

the very same one that I've never felt remotely compelled to eat...is now chilling in my belly.

I'm burping up ginger from my disgusting vitamins. I changed my shirt, again...

I've leafed through 1/3 of 5 different magazines. I stop every song 40 seconds in...

and I actually WANT more Ramen Noodles.



ok, brain. what's up?

why?

why is it so hot my ass is sticking to the seat?
I got all kinds of excited this morning when the temp was 72. yes. 72. I like 72. 90...nooootttt so much. I'm completely worthless in this shit (and otherwise). I've started a dozen different projects in the last week and haven't finished any of them. my house is falling apart, my bum is sweaty, and I'm booooooooored.

q. can you be lazy and bored at the same time?

a. yes. watch me.

why can't I seem to write a cover letter to save my (financial) life?
as previously mentioned...I'm bored. I WANT a job...not like 40 hours or some crazy shit like that...but 20 a week might keep me from feeling like a beached whale. a little productivity couldn't hurt...'specially since caffeine is prohibited.

why is the majority of 'pop' music today rap? I'm not objected to some much needed hip-hop from time to time, but its a bit irksome that I'm playing the top 100 pop hits of 2007 (according to I-Tunes, that is)...and I find myself unable to escape 'da club.' fuck da club. my ass can't fit into chickenhead pants and tube tops. I wanna be in the woods. the woods like baggy clothes.

they told me so.

along those lines...

why can't I JUST GET COMFORTABLE, ALREADY???
noone is spared my wardrobe confusion. today I've worn the kid's clothes, three of her friends', the kid's dad's girlfriend's, mine, oqui's, even a hand-me-down tank top from my mom.

If I weren't so preggo-porky...

I'd just say fuck it and go nude.

I might just do it, anyway.

I hate my neighbors.

they have it coming...

friday the 13th...

and my divorce is finally final.

I'm a bit displeased with the timing (ie. freddy krueger could've stayed out of this), but happy to not be living in quite as much sin as I was yesterday.

the 'pah was afraid the kid would be in kindergarten before we could get married...

I'm thinking with what our health insurance is gonna cost as a married couple...

it'll be junior's graduation day when we're at long last able tie the knot.

college graduation.

they duped me!

my lovely Miss Doctor What's-Her-Face, my chiropractor and new love of my life...

wasn't there today.

the shock. the horror.

instead I had dr. I'm-a-bit-nervous-around-women...who said he was surprised he could "perform."

whoa there, killer.

you've got your legs pressed into my body, my boobs are hanging out my shirt (I should've worn a t-shirt), your hands are all over me...

and you're having performance anxiety?

ruh roh.

I swear my body shut down, disallowed any and all cracking (wouldn't want it to crack the WRONG way, now would I?), and settled for a tuesday appt with the love o' my life.

it's cool dr. I-don't-get-laid-very-often, I aint mad. I still got my fifteen minutes of electro-shock therapy and a good giggle out of this morning's appointment.

don't stress it too much.

I hear it happens to all the doctors. really.

next time...I'm sure you'll do just fine.

in DoC we trust

so I'm in love...with my new chiropractor.

with three minutes of "feeling things out," 40 seconds of adjusting, 4 more minutes of stretching and massage and 15 minutes of electrical stim...

I'M HEALED! HALLELUJAH, THANK DOC, I'M HEALED!!!

first thing tomorrow morning...I'm going to kiss her. bear hug, hand over the lips, full out giant fakey junior high kiss.

...maybe I'll get the digits.

my neck hurt soooo incredibly bad. bad. bad. bad. (continue with another thirty or forty thousand bads, please)

I was miserable. at first I tried to approach it with a positive attitude.

"you're tough. you're going to deliver naturally. be with the pain. don't react" et cetera...yada yada...blah.

then after three days of in(motherfucking)tractable headaches and vicious mind-numbing pain I decided...oh fuck this. labor may hurt, but not for half a damn week...

and the suki got mad. mad at my neck. mad at the world. mad at anybody and thing that crossed my path (I kicked the kid's friends out of the house without so much as a good-bye or a spare cheese stick).

and strangely enough...once again...the universe has proven to me that I'm most effective at EVERYTHING when angry. I've been trying to embrace acceptance as my motto...you know cause being preggo and all, I'd like to try to avoid a fist fight or cardiac event...

but it hasn't worked worth a damn. I'm absolutely and utterly convinced that when mellow, the world overlooks me...but when fired up and spewing heat...I'm able to create enough energy to bend things my way.

I screamed (mentally, mind you. to actually scream hurt too badly) to the cosmos that there must be SOMETHING that could be done about the pain...and that I wasn't going to take this shit one. more. day...

then she healed me. (I <3 her something fierce)

so, yeah...anyway...I'm going to kiss her. and I'll never shop at Old Navy (or any other Gap, Inc) store, again.

PACK SAND GAP, INC.

In a painful fit o' fury...I told their customer service that I would never spend a cent on their shoddy wares again. when asked if I'd like to leave my personal information along with my complaint (dude. she's a retard. the ENTIRE REASON I called is because they refused to issue me a refund without my address...and I told them I'd rather kill them first then recieve a piece of their (or their carefully chosen 'advertising partners' junk mail. so I left without my money)...

I told her, "no need. tell the 'executive offices' that they'll be able to locate me by the smoke, visible from the heavens, that will ensue when I take every last piece of clothing I've ever purchased from them and light one hella large bonfire.'

I think she tried not to laugh. either way...

PACK SAND, GAP, INC.

so with Old Navy out of the picture and my limited I-don't-work-over-the-summer budget...looks like I'll be hitting Ross, TJMaxx and thrift shops for the rest of the maternity clothes that I want...but most certainly don't need.

come to think of it...

MATERNITY CLOTHES CAN PACK IT, TOO.





...ok. I'm done, now.

el numero del diablo

97 degrees outside.

18 weeks pregnant.

35 inches (both bust AND belly).

129 pounds. (ugh)

5 more hours of school left for the kid. (aaaaaah)

3 months til school starts again. (argh)

106 minutes til the 'pah is home for lunch.

3 days into what I'm now certain is a sinus infection.

5 pairs of pants that fit.

(^ 3 of them I hate.)

2 dogs barking at the mailman.

8 bills in the mail.

6 days til Father's Day.

98.2 temp (does that mean it is or isn't viral???)

11 hours of fitful sleep.

100% sure I'm going back to bed soon.

1 thing for certain...

I'm over-joyed at the effectiveness of the central air in this house.

and that, my friends...is that.

yesterday was the last day of school.

I never thought I'd say it, but...

I cried a little.


after all the quitting I've done over the last year and a half, the fact that this is most likely my last day as "Miss Suki"...ever...kinda hit me. I gave them all my food (and came home ravenous), crocheted them bracelets, and single-handedly manned the effort to keep the custodians from throwing everyone's clothes away. (for which I was rewarded by the secretary with a reprimand that that isn't the way things are done...but she wouldn't tell on me. psssssht!)

the big sign outside my room said, "free coats (and hoodies)...come in!"

most of them were way too goddamned cool to take anything used. in fact...they called ME dirty.
(ha! if only they knew...), but there were a few who were all too eager to snag some name brand clothes (for free) for once.

the very last coat went to a disabled boy who hobbled into my room, gave me a pound and asked (after I looked at him funny and said "do I know you?")...is this the room with the coats and hats?

I only had one left. one last coat out of 15 or more...and I was praying to jesus it fit this poor boy. he tried it on while I held his books. all smiles he said, "yeah, miss. it fits."

I said, "yes, it most certainly does" while holding back tears...

and the boy walked off down the hall still wearing it, despite the fact that it was at least 80 in that building.

I damn near cried.

I now realize that I went into this assignment with every intention of hating the kids, not letting them get to me, and I never even told them my name.

I told them to call me Miss Substitute.

and none of it worked...I'm still gonna miss the shit out of them, and worry my ass off all summer that none of them are falling into the wrong crowd.

stupid fucking city. eats kids alive.

so for what was very likely my last statement from a student, on what was very likely my very last day of teaching ever...I heard yelled from a bus, "Miss Suki!!! are you pregnant?????"

I replied with a simple "yup."

I couldn't bring myself to ask..."are you?" cause the chances of that answer being yes would break my heart.

speaking of breaking hearts...I saw one of my ex-students at the community college a few minutes ago. Her name is Starr. I had her in the pregnant and parenting teens program. She's mildly disabled and was more in love with her unborn baby than anyone else I'd ever seen.

I asked her about him. I wish I hadn't. He was born disabled, removed from her custody...

and is being adopted (CLOSED) any day, now.

I guess I'm busy protecting myself and my own baby...cause I didn't shed a single tear. I just asked her to keep herself on the right track and to make sure she doesn't have any more "accidents" (both sexual and physical. when she was 4 months pregnant she was hit by a bus, broke her rib cage and the baby had a shattered arm. saddest. ultrasound. picture. ever.).

I told her that no woman could survive having a child taken from her twice in one lifetime.

I didn't add that this particular woman can't handle many more of these stories.

summer will be a blessed BLESSED relief from the stress that comes with caring for (and occassionally trying to teach) kids.

I'm gonna get a nice easy part-time job directing air traffic or something...

and finally relax.


with school being out...I think I'm finally liking being pregnant, too. I know the 'pah sure is. the larger I get...

the bigger his grin.


even though my pants don't fit...It's kinda nice.


(insert pretend pics of my big belly AND grin)

crazy with a squirt bottle

since climbing is proving to whoop my lilly white ass (over-hung reachy climbs can suck my pregnant titty)...

I've taken to "other pursuits."


like cleaning the shit outta my house.

the chi...be a'flowing. I've purged three rooms and a hallway closet so far, and am halfway through the sunroom and living room.

these rooms are hard. I've got 43,837 built in closets with approximately 987,349,272,270 old shitty books, magazines and pictures in them.

soooo...I've been having a bunch of nap-attacks on the couch while contemplating my strategy.

ie. I've made a mess and haven't cleaned it up, yet.

I scrubbed my uber white kitchen with a bajillion cabinets from (almost) top to bottom (you couldn't pay me to clean the tops of those cabinets off...oqui graffiti'ed a love note to me in the inches of dust). hand scrubbed the floor. cleaned the trashcans (yes. I did. I did)...

and washed the dog bowls for the first time in 3 years.

wouldn't it be ironic if they died from soap residue?

I'm shifting furniture and clearing energy.

if we can't sell this sumnabitch...

I might as well start liking living here, again.


ps. I chopped my hair off, too.

I have bruises

and blisters, and cuts and scrapes and sore muscles and a tender bum and...

I'm loving it.

for the first time in a long time...I have NON-pregnancy related complaints! (I still have those, but now I have better ones to dwell on)

all of my brand new (and oh-so-familiar) maladies are a consequence of one glorious thing...

activity.

yay! I missed you, activity. I *heart* you activity. I want to love you and squeeze you and kiss you and feed you and hug you and pet you...

blisters from hiking. bruises from falling off boulders. dirty toenails from critter hunting in a stream. sore butt from riding my bicycle (what's a bicycle???). chafing and stiffness from my god-awful harness.


le sigh.

hurts sooooo good.

the last few days have definitely been a turning point for me. I've spent ALMOST enough time in the woods, the dogs are once again seeing daylight...and I don't feel like a whale...perhaps a porpoise...

but not a whale.

the nausea is GONE.
the headaches are GONE.
the weakness...

ok, well...that's still here as I'm dreadfully out of shape.

but it feels GOOD. like hiking up a mountain with 40 lbs on your back kinda good.

it hurts...but you know you love it.

I can honestly say that the last week has been the first time that I didn't absolutely DESPISE being pregnant. I don't feel as poisoned or beat up...

and I have this cool new lump in my belly that occassionally squirms around and plays alien for me.

my pants don't fit at all...

but who gives a rip? 4 more days of school (I got in trouble for wearing jeans yesterday...ha! like I give a shiz-nizzle)...then its all stretchy pants and sweat shorts from here on out.

I don't need linen capris to go play in a stream...

now do I?

careful...I is stealing ur belly pikshers.

15 week belly pics (mostly stolen). one of them is teh suki...

^ NO! that is NOT me with the prison tat and the acrylic nails.

realizations...minor and otherwise

uncomfortable underwear make you stupid.
uncomfortable shoes make you mean.

all of my cohorts have real jobs.
I don't.
(nor do I want one)

warm baths make things better.
hot ones make them worse.

falling asleep in the bath is bad.
regardless of temperature.

no matter how hard I try, I can't train my dogs to answer my phone and take a message...or cook a meal...or clean up the poo.
I can't train the kid or the man to do those things, either.

I am inherently distrustful of strangers...and/or I hate them.

I hate teenagers.
I hate 20-somethings, 30-somethings, 40-somethings and 50-somethings.

60, 70 and 80-somethings are fine
...as long as they aren't driving in front of me.

I know absolutely jack shit about bird song...
except that it happens early in the morning.

I don't like early mornings.

I like a bit o' hair on a man's legs...
but not on my own.

I don't shave often enough.

does this knife make me look fat?

the votes are in.

we're giant dorks.

man, that hurt.

ten hours of sleep in four days. that hurt.

8 hours of driving in a monsoon (with an eensy weensy pregnant bladder). yeah, that hurt, too.

slamming my shoulder in the car door. that hurt a bit.

hiking at the back of the bunch instead of blazing the trail. definitely hurt (the ego).

subsisting on camp food all weekend with a hungry lil' parasite in me. that kinda hurt.

being mistaken for another climber's mother. that fucking KILLED!

but what hurt the most was realizing my limitations...and just how much has changed about me.

seeing my relationships with climbing friends, people I've been WAY tight with, morph right before my eyes...painful in an indescribable way.

I've become accustomed (along with the people who know me) to being a certain kinda person. bouncy. bubbly. brazen. bad-ass bitch. this trip found me more of the exhausted, hungry, moody, whiny, incapable ilk.

at this festival last year, I remember getting lost for hours on end...just chatting people up, hanging out, being social. this year involved alot of sitting, peeing, nodding off and aching.

some of my friends didn't seem to understand. in a private conversation oqui felt the need to explain it to them. he told them that I don't WANT to be exhausted. I don't want to have to watch my every move. I don't want to have to rest, pee and eat every 15 minutes....and I certainly don't like having someone else carry my pack on the hikes.

but I have no choice. he told them that he can actually see my energy drain and a crash fast approaching. I hit the wall...and I do it hard and often. one of the kids said, "man. that sucks" in such a way that oqui just KNEW that he meant it would suck to have to deal with that from his end...

oqui told him, "yeah. it does suck. for HER."

I'm incredibly lucky to have a man who gets it. someone who, in such a short time, knows me well enough to have faith in me. a man who's got my back...and carries the heavy stuff.

it hurts (alot) to know that my relationships with my climbing friends may be changed for good. its not like I can be the person I was two years ago with an infant or a toddler. I just can't take those kinds of risks...or that kinda time to myself, anymore. I mourn those habits and I mourn those relationships...but I'm getting pretty good at convincing myself it'll all work out.

so group trips may be a thing of the past...but I've still got oqui, the monkey and the mutts...and soon we'll all be camping and climbing and taking turns watching the sprout while mommy leads 5.11's (ha!)

on the bright side of the trip...it managed to NOT rain for one day and we got in a good solid day of climbing. I got on some 10's in my brand spanking new torture device...I meant body harness. I felt technically sound and kinda strong...

but exhaustion and fatigue had their way with me halfway up each climb.

either way...I'm still 4 months pregnant with half of a 10a, 10b and two bolts of an over-hung 10a under my belt.

and those were some pretty bad-ass halves...


if I do say so myself.

where my breakfast is at?

sitting in the cafe (raining like a mofo. 40% chance my toosh)...

waiting for my whole wheat pancakes.


and all a suki wanna know is...


where my breakfast is at?

on second thought...

we're going on the trip...

(and spent all last night watching porn.)

what is it with me and the porn lately?

I'm typically very anti-porn...as I'm not a huge fan of three black chicks jizzing on a blonde girl's face...

but lately...oh, boy. lately...

I'm just gonna stop there.


so, yeah...the trip. we're heading to West Virginia, land of dead dogs and banjers for the climbing rendezvous. it was our first trip together last year as friends (and I'm almost 4 months pregnant, now. AHAHAHAHAHAH you do the math)...so it's kind of an anniversary.

we're packing 5 people + gear into the grocery getter, and the drive will most likely infuriate me and make me wanna stab, again...

but three days of hippy fest and a nice long walk (or ten) in the west virginny woods oughta clear up the rage, once more. not sure how much climbing I'll actually do...but I'm sure to lose several pounds from camp food and sleep dep...

then go back to work next Monday.

yup. I 'quit' for all of a week, but decided to try my hand at it, again. if I work the last 12 days of this school year...it'll be all the money (and more) that I would've needed to make working part-time...

while in school.
supervising the monkey.
and getting huger every day...

over the summer.

so I'm going to try (TRY) to suck it up.

keep my head low and my rifle dry...

and not let the bastards (these are high school 'kids' they're definitely bastards) get to me.


have a great weekend!