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March 2009
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May 2009

And also?

I'm having one of those days.

I am swamped with work.

I've got a toxic frog running around the house. (Chance left the "feed" door open (a.k.a where we drop the bugs) and the creature got out. I think he was waiting for that to happen. I mean, the frog.  Those suckers are smarter than they look. (Did you know fire-bellied toads can live 20 - 30 YEARS?  Maybe I should thank Chance?))  So now I'm searching for a frog and watching the cats in case of frog-poisoning. While trying to work.

My son - whom I love to pieces - is being entirely unreasonable and contrary about mommy really just needing to read email for a sec (or anything else for that matter) undisturbed.  Like peeing.  Or sitting to change channels for said child.  Without being poked (objects of which are promptly taken away - sorry, lightsaber, you are banished) or climbed upon.  And then, son, really?  The delighting in irritating mommy?  Not cool.

I think my period is starting.

The Internet, whom, yes, I was avoiding there for a while, is still full of sad and scary.

Every time I try to work There. Are. Delays!  And about a million emails.  And changes to spec that I find on my own.  (So I'm working but it's completely unproductive work.  Which I find irritating.  Also.)

I still seem to have this going on 10+ days cold.

I haven't gotten to blog about the loudest place on earth yet.  (It starts with a "D".)  Or about the project that I'm all excited about and have yet to start.

I'm thinking about bagging it all, going to bed, and getting up at 4:00 tomorrow to start over.  I know, I know.  4:00 am?  Couldn't you possibly, wg, just maybe, perhaps a little become even more of a bitch, after waking up at so ungodly an hour?

I don't think so.         - wg

Ah, venting... you dirty ambrosial slut of the mind. 

soon to be more

Chance:  "Hey Mom!  I POOOOPED!"
Me:  "OK, hold on."  ('Cause yeah, I'm still wiping butts around here.)
Chance:  "Mommy, my tummy hurts."
Me:  "Oh?  Did it hurt while you were pooping or does it hurt now?"
Chance:  "It hurts when I go to bed."
Me:  "It hurts when you go to bed?"
Chance:  "Yeah, because sleeping is boring."
Me:  "Uh-huh. Well you still have to go to sleep."

Someone still hasn't switched over from his vacation schedule (or lack thereof) to his regular schedule.

More on the vacation later (I'm still recovering as well), but for now I wanted to share a great project. The T21 Traveling Afghan project is a blanket that is traveling from one family to another who has a family member with Down Syndrome.  Its a great idea and I hope you all will read about it more, pass on the info, and/or participate! 
              - wg 

I just robbed a grocery store, I'm going to Dizz Knee Land

We are off on vacation tomorrow morning!  This will be Chance's first trip to Disneyland, and my second.  I never went to Disneyland as a kid; Keen took me when he found that out.  I must have been about 19.  They say Disneyland is magical, but I think you have to go as a kid to get that magic... so I'm excited to see how Chance likes it.  And I must admit, like a lot of people, I have a love/hate relationship with Disney.  (Good storytelling, evil marketing.  Like the heartwarming, hate the cutesy.  Yadda yadda yadda.) 

I'm secretly hoping there will be another goth convention in town.  That would be cool. (What?  It's fun to see mickey-toting tourists all freaked out.)

I'm also going completely offline.  I won't be checking email (sorry, Wicked Taskmaster).  I won't be following any amazonfail-esque tweets or speculating on the potential of an Oprah/Ashton demonic alliance (although, that one kind of keeps me up at night.  Quickly followed by the nightmare where I'm being choked to death by pink princesses).  I won't even be uploading photos while we're there.  I kind of need a computer break.  I will be reading Geek Love and the latest Kim Harrison book.     

Carnies and witches.  Sounds like vacation.

See ya around the 'net when we get back!  

                  - the weirdgirl

P.S. If you type "goth mickey mouse" into google you can find this

a small patch

I woke up with a stomach full of dread yesterday morning and it was there most of the day. It seems every time I turn on the computer or read the news it’s all about horrible things that you hope will never happen. I won’t even make links here but those who have followed the stories of Thalon and Maddie will know what I’m talking about, and anyone local has probably been following Sandra Cantu’s story as well; which is becoming more horrifying with each news release.

There are days you wonder if all this communication is a good thing. I would never ever deny the massive support that the Internet affords to parents and families who need it. The charities it helps and the awareness it brings. I think that is an unexpected and blessed byproduct of the digital age. But when you also see grief and depression building, feeding upon a cycle of blogs and twitter, when you feel like a heel for saying something funny two seconds before you heard the latest news, when the guilt and horror become debilitating – as I’ve seen over the last week – it gets to be all too much.

And what’s more… sometimes I feel like I’m intruding. Intruding, undeserved, upon others’ grief. We are always bystanders when the tragedy is not our own, but with these outlets of instant shared communication we are witness to personal tragedy more than ever. No matter how much our hearts go out to those the tragedy has struck, I have to wonder if our presence is unwelcome.

Chance is home sick with me; has been sick most of the weekend. But he’s here with me, right? I had a hard time pulling away from the computer yesterday (doubly so, since I work online). When I felt like I was going crazy I went outside in the sun and pulled up weeds until my back hurt. That actually made me feel a little better. Sometimes you have to say, this is where I am right now, in this patch of sun. I am doing this small thing, in this small moment. Ground yourself.

And then just turn the computer off for a little while.              -wg

For Easter, a psychological study

The five stages of gift-giving grief as typified in unnamed older relative (UOR) behavior upon relinquishment of presenter/presentee rights within standard environments.  Median age of subjects is 65.

Denial – “We can’t bring gifts?  I don’t remember you saying not to bring him presents!  You never said that!”

Anger – “But it’s Easter!  You can’t count Easter!  It is my RIGHT as a UOR to buy him toys if I want to! That’s my job!  What do you mean not every holiday needs gifts?!”

Bargaining – “Well, this is just a small thing and it’s not really a toy.  This will be the last one.  I swear.  Nothing until July.  I swear.”

Depression – “They make him so happy… what am I supposed to do now?”

Acceptance – “OK, fine, we’ll put it back in the car before he notices.”

After standing firm with the early morning smackdown, (totally taking it for the team by being the bad guy, I might add,) I’m still left with one question… what the hell is in July? 


(See that face?  That is the face of kid who is happy with gummi's and a couple of matchbox cars.  I'm just saying.)

Happy Easter everyone! 
           - the weirdgirl

The unveiling

There were many excellent guesses for Monday's contest, name the frog... but alas, no correct ones!  Truth be told, I didn't even have a prize lined up.  I knew it was a long shot.  I figured if someone actually guessed correctly I'd go from there. Gotta save those brain cells for when you actually need them, you know, or um I might run out (?).

So here we go, the frog's name is...

FARTY!  Farty the frog.

Sort of obvious and unexpected all at once, huh?  I bet other four-year-olds would have got it in a second.  Well, maybe just the boys.

We tried gently steering Chance away from the whole smelly business, lighting a flame and starting afresh, so to speak.  Even clearing the air by suggesting some other nuggets.  But unfortunately the name stuck, like flies on... a frog's tongue.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.  Feel free to insert your favorite fart joke here.
           - the weirdgirl

P.S. I think the frog is a little offended.

P.P.S. You know what kind of cracks me up? The people at the local Petsmart get all worked up if they think you're not treating fish properly but when I asked for a frog along with care instructions there was no concern at all.  The response was, "As long you feed it every other day the frog won't care how you treat it."  Apparently, frogs just aren't as personable as fish.

I think PETA might need to revoke some memberships.

Contest for a Monday morning

This is our new frog.


An Oriental Fire-bellied toad, to be exact.  Chance was given a "frog house" for his birthday so of course he got very excited about the frog he would soon have.  It was a given.  He had a frog house - quite publicly presented and cooed over with much encouragement from the witnesses - so of course he would need a frog to fill it.  That was part of the gift!  Duh, mom and dad. 

We now are a household of two cats, four goldfish, and a frog.  Plus people.  And one empty aquarium, which makes me a bit nervous.  But don't worry, that one has been hidden for quite some time because of the above scenario.  I think it's one of the laws of physics that an empty tank must contain some sort of  living creature or Schrodinger's cat dies or something.  At least, that principal kicks in if the said empty tank is viewed by children.  It's all very quantum leap.

I'm also a little nervous about this tank.


Do you see how big those fish are getting?!  That aquarium is already way too small for them.  I know because I have to clean it all the fricking time.  We got those fish last summer.  They were all about an inch long.  A petite inch.  Except for the big one, he was about an inch and a half.  (I'd call him a monster but he'll come eat out of my hand.  Awww!)  I predict another feline-lethal tank will soon be gracing the shelves of our garage.  (I'm not getting rid of them, just upgrading their home.)

OK, so here's the contest... guess the name of the frog!  Go ahead throw out your best guesses!  Please keep in mind it was named by a four-year-old.

If you want to guess the names of the fish (yes, Chance named all the fish, too) knock yourself out.

I admit, I kind of like the frog.  He'll get along nicely with the lizard we'll eventually have.
             - the weirdgirl