Insomniacs unite!!!

I need some sleep. Okay, I need some sleep when it is the appropriate time for ME to be sleeping. I understand that people are sleeping at all hours of the day based on their shift work and geographical location, so don't get picky on me. I cannot sleep normally during the night. When I go to bed, I cannot, unlike my husband, put pillow to head and fall immediately to sleep. That is my dream. What I can do is lay in bed for 30 minutes and then fall asleep hard for about 20 minutes. I then wake up, thrash like I'm having some sort of fit and disrupt the sheet to person ratio in the bed, throwing off my entire sleeping universe. I then walk through the say like a zombie, but not the Walking Dead kind, maybe more like the lumbering mummy on the opening credits of Jonny Quest. Then I fall into a coma-like slumber whilst waiting in the pickup line at school. Luckily I have learned to set my phone alarm before any unfortunate and embarrassing pickup line incidents have transpired. You don't want to anger the people behind you in line. Not good, not good. So today I took a new step in the sleep issue. I went to the organic co-op hipster hippy grocery store to try and mind yet another herbal remedy. Melatonin has lost its effectiveness with me, so i need something different. I found the supplement aisle and started sorting through bottles. There were some L-Tryptophan capsules, but I couldn't bring myself to buy those. I don't know why. I got some tea that is full of all kinds of herbs and probably ground up caterpillars from the rain forest....wait, that wouldn't be eco friendly. Heck, I don't know if it will work, but I am desperate. The only problem with sleepy tea is that I always fear I will drink it, sleep too well and wet the bed because I drank tea. See, I get irrational when I'm tired.

I'll let you know how it goes. It'll either be sleep or a Bob Newhart Show marathon. I love me some Bob, but let's hope for some zzzz's.


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It's raining again...how novel...

Downton Abbey is on PBS right now. Yes, I'm one of those people. Sunday is a work day for me and has been a long day, so my escape today is Masterpeice Theatre. There isn't a whole lot to report today. I did have one of my little pre-K'ers request I take a picture of his drawing he did. I love the minds of preschoolers. Here is the part of the picture he wanted taken:



The explanation given was that this was a person "pooping on the potty". I can certainly get it after he explained it to me. The person, throwing their hands up, seems very relieved to have done so. I wish he'd let me keep it, but at least I have a picture of the picture.

I sat in a two hour meeting this evening which, for those of you who know me, was torture even in the best of circumstances. I had to drop the oldest off at handbell practice at 4 and be the second adult, did work in my office and then went to my meeting. I left at eight ready to eat my hand off. During the meeting, my friend tried to find a snack in her purse to hold me over until dinner. A container of raisins and this was all she had:



Believe me, I was tempted. But I think the bald guy would have been a bit chewy. So I held out for a spaghetti dinner that the hub prepared. It was worth the wait and my tummy is now satisfied. Edith has a broken heart, Downton may be okay and everyone is good for another episode. Night all.
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Stil processing...

We had an interesting experience today which I am still processing. I am so sinusy and sore right now, I will save my opinions on today for another time.

Today, with the exception of the "event", was pretty boring. Because I was a bit of a grump, partially due to disliking the 73 degree weather in January and partially due to the massive back/shoulder/neck spasm I woke up with this morning, I was determined to not go out in the weather of the day. We stayed inside and wrote thank you notes, cleaned the downstairs and waited for the Comcast technician to arrive. I stood in line at the post office for a half an hour to buy forever stamps before they go up in price. Upon arriving home, I found that the technician had not arrived in his 10-12 window given us. After going back and forth on Twitter with my least favorite Comcast Twitter IT guy, "Comcast Michael", I was sent an ugly and snotty tweet from him which was less than a great idea on his part. I chose then to let the hub deal with them for the rest of the interaction. After the trouble we've had with them, I think I would be happy with a steady and daily stream of Bob Newhart show episodes from Netflix and ditch the cable. Our friend, Jim, is trying to bring us over to the dark side of AT&T U-Verse. Unfortunately for us, we live in a 3-6 house vortex where AT&T does not provide their cable service. Our neighbors three doors up have it...and it is around the corner. Maybe I watched too many Twilight Zone episodes and something happened. Anyhoo, I may have a talk with my twitter pal, "Comcast Bill", on Monday. He was who I asked for when "Michael" nosed his way in to the conversation. Comcast Bill ordered a manger to come clean up the antifreeze puddle left in our driveway after the technician's van blew up, endangering all the curious pets in the neighborhood who don't obey the leash law. I didn't ask for that, but he was appalled at the oversight and made it so. We love him.

Cable television is not that big of a deal. I am happy to read a book or sew something. I just can't tolerate rudeness. No siree bob. On a completely unrelated note, this is what my oldest wanted for lunch:



A plate of roast beef. And a slice of cinnamon bread. You people think I don't feed her since she looks like a child from a save the children ad. This was her choice...until I added some carrots and grapes to the mix. Take that, kid.

Tomorrow? Between an evening meeting and Downton Abbey, I will share with you the life changing event I was a party to even though I was grabbing my sinus pained head and hunching over like an old crone selling bags of birdseed. "Feed the birds. Tuppence a bag...".
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I want to be in a mu-si-cal

Tonight turned into a big ppphhhffffttt. I was supposed to go see "West Side Story" with my friend, A, but my sinuses have decided to go to war with me. My teeth feel the need to fall out of my head and I anticipate a night of Mucinex and motrin. We made a small outing to S's soccer game, which I could not enjoy. The loud yelling and the smell of the turf did not agree with me. And, admittedly, I was turning musical numbers into songs about sinus issues. "Mucinex cheap in A-mer-i-ca...Pain in my teeth in A-mer-i-ca". Or "Tonight, tonight. My teeth just hurt tonight. I'll mo-trin and all will be right." Yes, I'm an idiot. I love me some musicals. I recently saw the Les Mis movie and cried like a baby...several times. What an absolutely heartbreakingly beautiful story of redemption. I could hardly bear it. And Hugh Jackman was exquisite. I grew up watching and listening to "The Music Man". I always wanted to be Professor Harold Hill and sing with the Buffalo Bills. Yes, I'm a girl, but I wanted to be the main male role because he had the best songs. I got to be one of the prop people in "Fiddler on the Roof" and played in the pit band for "The Wiz". My brother and I used to run around the house singing selections from "Man of La Mancha" and "Jesus Christ Superstar". A proud parent moment for me happened recently when my children, listening to one of my mix CD's, sang every word of "On the Street Where You Live" from "My Fair Lady" at the top of their lungs. It doesn't get much better than that.



But for now, I'll dream of Robert Preston, Tony, Tevye and Javert and sing, "There out in the darkness. A fugitive running...fallen from grace, fallen from grace...." and cry my eyes out from the song in my heart....okay that was a little corny. But true.
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Listen(ooh wah ooh), do you want to know my secret...shame?

I shouldn't call anything my secret shame. After all, one man's secret shame is another man's pride and joy. As I've been sitting and listening to Cat Steven's, a singer some think should be a secret shame, my mind drifts towards movies/books/music that I might be a little hesitant to admit I like. Why, you ask, would I be thinking about such things? It has been a stressful day and I am simply trying to do anything to take my mind off of the yuck. So, to perform a secret shame exorcism of sorts, I have decided to reveal some of mine to you, my two readers. I will not share them all...I have to have some secrets from you people. Here we go!

1. My book is one that my mother tried to get me read for years. I refused...until I finally gave in and couldn't put it down. Then I watched the ABC mini-series. I know he has since come out of the closet and would not think of giving me a second look, but Richard Chamberlain was excellent as the priest with a secret and a lust for power:



2. My movie doesn't have as much to the movie content as the super cheezy soundtrack, because I have supermad love for James Garner...and the hub knows this...Murphy's Romance:



3. My Saturday night show is for the senior citizens in all our lives. As a young girl, I found it a bit torturous. Now, well, you know how I feel about accordions:



"Goodnight, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you....".

4. My song is a story of a woman and the love she has for her beloved steed. If you don't shed some sort of tear for this song, well, you have no heart. I'll sing it loudly in the privacy of my locked car:



5. Lastly, my PBS show of choice. He showed us calm, genteel love and a world where we can do what we like:



Oh heck, who am I kidding? There is no shame here. Bob Ross was the painting stud, pure and simple. I'll wear a tshirt with his big, beautiful afro anywhere I go.

Okay, enough sharing. I don't want to lose the two readers I have. Let these percolate for a while. I'll discuss things less shameful tomorrow. For now, I'm going to make happy little trees with my paint app.....
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Do you hear what I say? Uh, not really....

I have a problem. I'll admit it. My hearing has never been as good as that of others. While it has never been investigated as to why this is true, I'd imagine that the hours of blasting The Who full blast through my fake Walkman earphones whilst mowing the lawn contributed to the problem. I had to go for a physical for a job when the hub and I were first married. During the hearing test, I was told that I had a 15% hearing loss in my left ear. It was announced to me with the same emphasis that one would use when asking a tablemate to "pass the salt"....mentioned and never fleshed out. That was at least 15 years ago. I've always had issues with sorting out conversations in a social setting, you know, with lots of people talking at once. It is pure torture. Go ahead, add a few more punches to my freak card. I will do it for you:



If any of these need explaining, I will be happy to do so over coffee and a breakfast sandwich at Panera or Starbucks.

Anyhoo, because of this hearing issue I have, I have heard some strange things from people. In these instances, I feel like I need the magic shop ear that Pee Wee puts on. You know the one:



What? WHAT?!?! Maybe it would help, but I seriously doubt it. Today was a prime example, but in my defense, a speech impediment does not help things. The boy and I were snuggled up in the living room watching G give a singing retrospective of Hannah Montana hits and he whispered in my defective ear, "Did you know secrets give you cancer?. I sat there semi stunned, unable to speak from fear of being rude during the concert, trying to process what twisted kid on the playground disseminated this gem of inaccurate knowledge to my kid. After "G Montana" finished her rendition of "Ordinary Girl", I asked the boy, "What did you say again? Secrets cause cancer?". He looked at me like I had an arm growing out of my head...kind of like this:



He said, "Uh, no mom. Cigarettes cause cancer! You are so silly. Secrets can be rude sometimes, though."

Now the disclaimer, I am in no way making fun of hearing issues. My grandmother suffered for years with hearing issues as do several close relatives and friends of mine. My hearing issue is real and one that has always been frustrating to me. We don't go out very often and when we do, I have a horrible time catching any of the conversation. I getting tired of asking people to repeat themselves. So we stay home. I feel a bit less freakish that way. So if I repeat back pure gibberish to you with a puzzled look on my face, don't smell my breath and ask me to walk a straight line. Just know that I can't understand what you are saying, but I sure am trying.
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Owner of some snotty pants...

How was your day today? Good I hope. Today was the dreaded first day back to reality after Christmas break. The childen rose with a peppiness that was almost disturbing for my standards...and we all know my standards are a little bit on the wonky side. Since I am still on the losing side of a long battle with insomnia, the kids were able to recover much more quickly from the 6am wake up shock than their grumpy mother. I'm usually the one to emulate my mother's wake up call from *harummph cough cough harrumph* years ago when she would sing, "Good morning to you! Good morning to you! We're all in our places with sunshiney faces. So this is the way to start a new day!". We would groan and moan and get up and be at school at least 30 minutes earlier than everyone else. Now all you people know where I get it from. I sing it, not out of my own sickeningly sweet peppiness, but in that "whine at me and this is what will wake you up" kind of attitude. I'm not like that often. Just usually after especially difficult sleep nights. They all dressed in newly acquired at Christmas clothes and went downstairs with the quiet simplicity of a stampede from an African wildlife documentary. Who knew that three people under the age of 12 could make such a ruckus? Honestly I can never remember being that excited to go to school, so that must speak volumes about me. We don't have sugared cereals that often, so I thought the enthusiasm could have stemmed from the box of swirly Trix they have been nursing for a bit. The fact is that they were excited to get back to their friends and teachers. Refreshing. I dropped them off in a haze that only comes from 7:30am and a lack of coffee and headed to work. I'll fast forward through my day because everyone had one of those and nobody cares to read about that. After a shorter than usual wait in the pickup line, I got the brood home and began the usual Tuesday routine. Homework, paperwork, a little work crisis, dinner and dance. While at dance, I casually tweeted a question to one of my culinary heroes, Alton Brown. He has commented on one of my tweets before, but today was different. Today:



Yes, I know I am a geek for getting so excited about that, but he's been one of my favorites for a long time. My go to guy for culinary advice. So that pepped up a stressful afternoon. Naturally, I took about 50 different pictures of 50 different angles of the notification of the tweet excitement. We returned home from dance and I was eager to share my little brush with celebrity but there were baths to be taken, clothes to pick out and quiz answers to learn. Sweet G offered to say the prayer and insisted we hold hands. The boy, feeling extra full of himself, and allergies, had sneezed and was trying to scratch or wipe his nose during the prayer opening. G said, "Dear Heavenly Father, please don't wipe your nose on my pants." At this point we had to regroup and start again...once the guffaws stopped. Amen.
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