One is the loneliest number
Keeping with the trend I apparently set last night (unbeknownst to me) in posting the David Bowie song…….Tonight’s video is strictly for Hey You.
Everyone else: Please pray that their electricity is restored soon and the trees cleared off the roads so that everyone can go back to reading the eloquence that is Hey You’s blog posts.
Oh, and don’t worry about me, I’m not depressed. I just miss my family.
Filed under The Husband, The Son, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (2)Ground Control to Hey You
We’re really missing you and The Son here. Katy is eating a stuffed snowman and Ellie is collecting things and placing them in your favorite chair.
We want you to come home soon, but only when the ice has cleared and it’s once again safe to traverse the country.
Until then, stay safe, stay warm…………and climb the hill to call us as often as you can without freezing.
I love you both very much.
TheHusband
Here is something for everyone else out there:
Filed under The Husband, The Son, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (2)Like a Pioneer
I am dashing this off quickly because the only thing more sketchy than cell service here is the DSL. I have to lay in a certain position, in a certain room, facing north to get in. I miss my husband so much it hurts already, and still have at least a week to go. It is 12 degrees here, and this southern girl is not happy about it. We have to leave the water dripping at all times so the pipes do not freeze up.
I am enjoying spending a little QT with Ma and Gabs, and have cleaned out closets and drawers and have begged them to move off the farm and in to an apartment in town so they do not have to worry about things like iced over gravel roads and garbage pick up.
This morning at church I was mistaken for a teenage mother (YES! I was thrilled!) and this lady was telling about they could send a bus to pick up The Son and they would feed him breakfast, lunch, and dinner for free so I could finish high school. I enjoyed telling her about my masters degree. Nosy old lady.
I am going to try to check my email again in a few days, Husband, I love you so, so, so much. Check my email for me and clean out the spam comments here.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (4)An overdue bribe
Hey, um here. Have a picture of my baby. Look at that profile, isn’t he a doll?
This post is a bribe. I have been chastised for A. not showing you pictures of The Son at Christmas, and B. not posting enough. Let me fix one of those now.
We Huckablogs hung (hanged?) our stockings by the chimney with care. They were filled better than we could have hoped for, Santa knows his stuff.
Santa ate every single one of his cookies, and graciously left a thank you note.
The Son did not appreciate being woken up, Christmas or not.
He cheered up when he saw what was poking its head out of his stocking.
Even if Santa did wedge it in so tight that he could not free the poor thing. Call PETA!
Ah. Much better.
“Hmm. This looks interesting Daddy! Wow Santa packed presents in an old computer box!”
That is pretty much all the pictures I took Christmas morning, after that I was to busy opening gifts, finding batteries, and playing with new toys. So why did I need to bribe you? Because I am going to be out of state for awhile. My Ma, maternal grandmother, is having surgery and I am going to go help her do……um….well I am going. Ma lives so far out in the boonies that they drive to the middle of no where to go to Wal-Mart. Their Internet connection? Dicey on a good day. I am bring my laptop, so who knows, maybe it will be nice and clear and I will be bored to tears and will blog three times a day. Or maybe this will be my last post for two weeks.
This is my Ma, and she is worth more than bad Internet connections. She is not quite 80 and has never had any type of surgery before, so please feel free to pray for her. Or think good thoughts for her, or whatever it is people do who don’t pray.
This is Gabs. She is seventeen and lives with my ma, (who is her GREAT-grandmother and it would require a novel to explain why she lives with Ma. Just know that it works out well for everyone.) Since Gabs is a normal seventeen year old, she thinks that everyone over the age of 20 knows less than nothing, so she has this expression all the time. Unless her lips are attached to her boyfriend. Or her ear is attached to her phone. Or her fingers are texting so fast that they are just a blur. Like I said, she is a normal seventeen year old, and I love her just like I would a sister.
While The Son and I are visiting Ma and Gabs, The Husband is going to be here all alone. If you see him, give him a hug and tell him to go eat some veggies, and shave. Actually he will not be alone the whole time. On Friday night he is going to have an all night female guest.
Somehow I am just not that worried about Shoeshe sleeping on the couch without me here. I love her like a sister too. Not to mention her taste in men tends to run towards red heads.
I will write soon Internet, or not, but either way, don’t forget me.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, Photography, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (2)Why I cannot stand Gary Tygert Pennington
I was sitting in the Huckablazer, waiting on The Husband to return the rental car,while The Son was carrying on a very detailed conversation with a rubber dinosaur and a plastic comb. Bored, I began to idly flip through the February edition of Parents magazine (I get this free, and would never pay for this vapid excuse for parenting advice ((please do not email me about how you love Parents and it saved your life, blah, blah, blah. I just think it is highly overrated.)) when I saw this:
Well the print version anyway, this is from Similac’s website.
You probably already know how I feel about formula in general; but really, could someone please tell me what Ty Pennington has to do with baby formula? Nothing. He just is greedy and takes any endorsement deal he can get. I am adding this to the official, “Why I can’t stand Gary Tygert Pennington” list. I can just tell that you are dying to know the rest of the list. No? Well sorry, this is all I have for you today.
1. Look at him:
This guy is 44 years old. He has a not quite soul patch, not quite chinapillar. He has said he goes to a spray tanning booth when he is not shooting, his hair…well, just look at it! He is 44! I do like this jacket though, for me not The Husband.
2. I met him once and he was a total egomaniac. He was going from desk to desk signing autographs at our office. I just shook his hand, and he seemed surprised I did not want him to sign my cell phone. I was surprised because he was much shorter than he looked on TV, and his girlfriend just followed him around handing him sharpies, not talking and had an identical haircut.
3. Speaking of his girlfriend, he cheated on Drea Bock, his girlfriend/manager of 11 years, with a stripper. Ew. I guess next he will be endorsing herpes medication.
4. Even though he is more than capable of hiring a cab, he was arrested and convicted of DUI. He apologized and Disney (who owns ABC, Extreme Home Makeover, and Ty) glossed over the whole affair.
5. He is an endorsement whore. Besides being Similac’s spokesperson (even though he has no kids! Nor any medical background to compare formula to breastmilk! Or a uterus!),he has also endorsed the ADHD medication Adderal (which he also takes ((which, by the way, should not be mixed with alcohol)), the now defunct Furniture Unlimited, cell phones, Bayer aspirin, and of course Sears. There may be more, but these are the only ones I could find.
6. As we saw many times on Trading Spaces, and now on Extreme Home Makeover, his taste is marginal at best. Look at his bedding line if you doubt me. Do you know what he calls his “style” ( I am using that term loosely obviously)? Creativi-TY and sTYle. Gag.
7. He gets published when there are so many awesome writers who have to try for years to be read by a publisher. He has written three books and now has a quarterly magazine. How can you write that much about platform beds and mdf?
8. He is tacky. He was asked to tone down all of the double entendres in a caulking chapter, and every book has a picture of him nude in the shower.
9. Lastly, and this is more a negative of ABC than Ty, but he should know better, an Extreme Home Makeover makeover will add thousands of dollars in new taxes to the new homes they build—which, in all likelihood, the owners can’t afford. They capitalize on an easy tear jerker, without considering the social consequences of erecting a Mcmansion that often towers over every other house on the block. Extreme Home Makeover and Ty Pennington offer the shallow American dream, leather sectionals, stainless appliances, whirlpools and half a dozen flat-screen TVs—all thoughtfully provided by the show’s sponsors. They think this will bring happiness, no matter the affliction.
In other words, I would pick Nate Berkus any day of the week (even if he is Oprah’s lapdog). For those of you who need more heterosexual and rugged eye candy than Nate can provide, might I suggest Mike Rowe? (disclaimer: I, myself, like the more geeky, intelligent, cuddly sort, think The Husband) Mike is hard working, well read, and, when clean, down right yummy.
Filed under Breastfeeding, Soap box, Time Suckers | Comments (2)254,052 hours, and starting to get the hang of it.
As of right now I am 254,052 hours old. For those mathematically challenged like myself, that is 29 years, 12 hours old. 29 sounds like the age of a grown up. This has not been such a great week. Actually, it has kind of sucked. You know why? Because I have had to be a grown-up way too many times this week.
One of the reasons I love being a SAHM is I have an outlet for all of the bizarre stuff I want to do. An audience that always plays along and giggles. Do I want to put on slippery socks and ice skate in the hallway? He thinks it is awesome. Do I want to use mini marshmallows as snow on the island of Sodor? I rule! Should we give each other tattoos with washable markers and then spend an hour in a bubble bath? Of course we should! Moral of the story? We do not act like grown-ups. We have fun. I figure as long as we are relatively well fed, have on clean underwear, and at least try to take a nap, that is good enough.
This week? I have been 29. Want to know some of the sentences I have been told this week? “We are going to total the car, but you can buy it from us at salvage cost if you want.” “We should do that, it will be cheaper than buying a whole new car.” “The injury is worse than we first thought, now we think a rib is separated too.” “He will need several weeks of physical therapy.” “We will not settle the claim until he is well.” “Since I work as a contractor I will not get paid at all for the time I was off because of the wreck.” “Since your husband was not a full-time student last semester, he will have to start repaying his student loans now.” “You owe us 12 hundred dollars.” “Your no interest financing on the hot water heater from last year is up next month.” “The Huckablazer is making a funny sound.” “Your grandmother forgot what month Valentine’s day is in.” “Maybe if you hang up some hearts over the bows on them you can call them Valentine’s decorations.” “No! No, Mama! I NO wear coat!” “No! No! Mama! I not eat toast. I eat candy!” “I not eat oatmeal, I eat CANDY MAMA!” “I eat CANDY NOT BEAKFAST!” “No, I no go to time out! I will hit!” “NO, I no dink cup, I Nur-nur.” “No I go night-night in Mama Daddy bed.” “No, I no go potty.” “NO! NO! NO!”
Arg. I have been a grown-up. And, then as if someone out there said, “Hey, it is her birthday, we should let her have a good day instead,” today has been a good day. The Husband went out in the ten degree weather to buy me a vanilla latte. The Son did not injure himself or others at play group. My mom fed me homemade minestrone and from scratch bread for lunch. The Son curled up next to me and took a nap. The Husband and I went out for Sashimi. Now we are home and going to snuggle up and watch tv from i tunes. A good day. Oh, and guess what? My husband has been sticking away money and has enough saved up for this. He said not to worry about student loans, or car wrecks, or hot water heaters, so I am going to let him be the grown-up and I am going to count the days until my new camera is delivered.
Filed under Parenting for Dummies, The Husband, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (6)Senseless
Do you ever have something happen that in no way really directly affects you but you still feel really bothered by it? A haunted and unsettled feeling that creeps up, with no warning, and no real explanation? Maybe a horrible story on the news, or the death of someone you once knew but have not seen for years? Maybe a family tragedy of someone you know online which could be completely fiction for all you know? Maybe the divorce of another Hollywood couple, or an earthquake at some exotic locale?
When I worked, at Heartless Cellular Company, I had this supervisor, we will call Fannie. She had been in the business since cell phones were invented and knew EVERYTHING. She could talk down an irate customer, sweet talk technicians into climbing towers in ice storms, and coax cheerfulness from the surliest of employees. She was not an easy person to work for because she demanded everyone’s absolute best. Slacking was not allowed. But, if you ever needed her help, or were having a bad day, or needed to be off for some random reason…she was there for you. She was not what gave Heartless Cellular Company their name.
Miss Fannie had flaming red hair (bottled I am sure), wore purple at least three times a week, and drove a big white Cadillac. She was exactly the same age as my mom, and reminded me of her in more ways than one. Fannie told me once she married the love of her life when she was very young, and when he found someone else she never felt the need to look for love again. She had no children, and always called the group of mostly twenty something people who worked for her, her kids. Every few days she would pop her head over the edge of my cublet (no real cubicals for this company) and show me a new picture of her “son with fur”, a black lab she adored. I worked directly under her for exactly a year, the length of time you had to work for the company before you could be promoted. The day of my anniversary at the job I planned just to keep for a few weeks while I looked for something else, she called me into a conference room and told me I had an interview the next day in a different department, a change that would mean a promotion, a pretty big pay raise, and a move to a different building. She had gone to the head of that department and told them that they would be losing out if they did not have me working there. I of course got the job. I moved buildings and only saw Miss Fannie a couple of times a month, and then it was once every few months, and then it was just the occasional emailed pictures of her dog. I owed her a lot, but never even said goodbye when I left the Heartless Celluar Company’s Campus for the last time.
A year passed. I never talked to Miss Fannie, and to be honest, I rarely even thought about my time there at all. I was sitting on the edge of my bed watching the evening news while The Son sat beside me chewing on the remote. It was grainy because we do not have cable, and the volume was turned low so as not to interrupt The Son’s babbling to the remote. The overly hair sprayed man said something about a Heartless Cellular Company employee. I looked up. I saw a white Cadillac behind yellow crime tape. I saw bullet casings on the ground circled by cruelly cheerful orange chalk. I heard her name. I heard dead at 54. I heard a gasp, mine.
Her elderly parents were on an anniversary cruise. She stopped by the mall to get them a new shower curtain, and a mentally ill person took note of her car. He followed her to her parent’s house, pulled up in the drive behind that damn white Cadillac, and stole her life before she even knew she was a statistic. The neighbors knew the sound was more than a car backfiring, more than teenagers playing with bottle rockets. The police arrived fast, but too late, to the quiet neighborhood, in a decent suburb, to find someone, shot dead, who should have died of a heart attack when she was 80.
I emailed a friend who still worked for the company to see if maybe it was another Fannie, but of course knew the answer. I did not go to the funeral, what would I say to those elderly parents who thought they were going to come home tan and relaxed instead of pale and bereaved? I saw on the news a month later that Heartless Cellular Company had planted a tree in her honor on the river bank which our cublets overlooked.
Another year passed, the man on the news told me the office building is being sold to a new faceless corporation, with employees who will smoke under that tree and have no idea whether it was planted, or a random act of life on the steep riverbank.
I am bothered. Haunted. Unsettled. Sad.
Filed under lexapro lexplains it | Comments (3)