On Not Being One of "Those" Broads

Well, I suppose now that I've admitted my filthy little secret here it's time to talk about it a little more openly. Even though, I still prefer to be a bit more secretive about it. That's sort of an oxymoron isn't it?

In any case, I know when I first found out about being "with child," I was curious about the whole thing, like, what the hell did I get myself in to? I immediately thought about all the negative aspects of it, because, let's be honest, I'm a bit of a naysayer. I thought about the morning sickness, becoming a whale, swelling, and worst of all... labor. I didn't immediately think about the kid I'd be producing. So I read other ladies' blogs. I figured real people would talk about their real experience. Very quickly I lost interest because all they could freakin' talk about was being knocked up or how great they felt being knocked up. I couldn't help but think these bitches are crazy.

So I'm making a disclaimer now. Yes, I will talk about being knocked up, but I'll let you know the dirty, little truth about it. Not every single post will be about being knocked up or the impending kid that childbirth usually brings. I'm still an individual outside of this creepy little alien growing inside me and I'm sure there's plenty of other things to talk about between now and squeezing this thing out.

Tomorrow's discussion will include, "finding out," feeling the immediate effects of being preggo, and so forth. It might make some of you ladies feel like you're not the only one who felt like ass during the whole process. Stay tuned.

On News I Never Thought I'd Have

Long time, no write. That's my laziness kicking in again, don't worry.

Since we've last been together, J and I have completed the half bath remodel. New flooring, paint, new sink and cabinet, ans shiny new hardware. It's like a little pooping oasis in there.

We've also recently gotten new drywall put up in the main floor bedroom (formally known as the mold room.) If I haven't explained myself in the past, our past roof issues caused water to flow down the beams of our house, all the way to the basement. Water sat behind the walls and soaked into the insulation creating mold. We ripped down the wall and tore out all the old, soggy, mold ridden insulation and bleached the beams and remaining wood. We were really in no rush to put drywall back up in the bedroom, since we never really used it anyway.

However, we're expecting our first child in June, so, we sort of need a place to put this kid. I like to think we're going to win "parents of the year" for putting the kid in a room that was formally riddled with mold. But don't worry, it's all clear now. So, in hopes of taking our time in getting this kid's room ready, we had new drywall put up last week. Sometime in the spring we'll probably get around to painting the room. That is, if J and I can ever agree on a proper color.

I'm also hoping my "nesting" instinct kicks in at some point and gives me the gumption to repaint the main floor and upstairs hallway like I've been wanting to do for ages. I'm also hoping I'll feel like putting a bunch of crap away that I've been looking at for months, possibly years.

In any case, perhaps this whole kid adventure will lead me to update more. At the very least, I'll have a place to gripe and complain as I get more and more uncomfortable.

On Construction

It's been a hectic few weeks at my humble abode. Long story short, when my husband and I bought our home five years ago, we knew it needed some work, we thought, we'd fix things here and there as we could afford it. One of the HUGE things that needed to be fixed was the ceiling in our master bedroom. We have a regular Bungalow style house, there was a dormer added on upstairs, there were two separate bedrooms making the house a four bedroom. Some dip shit took the center wall out at some point, presumably to make the current large master suite, but they neglected to add any support to the ceiling beams which in turn created a huge problem and made the ceiling beams sag and start to burst through the drywall.



Before



The main reason we decided to get this particular room fixed is because well, it definitely needed it and, we have wild dreams of maybe trying to sell the place in the somewhat near future. We hired a builder, he came over and did his business. His business of tearing down the whole ceiling, putting up two brand new beams, re framing the whole ceiling and then putting drywall back up and mudding and taping.



After



Once he got everything down he let us know what a wreck our house really was. None of the beams were physically attached to anything, you could just lift them up. The ceiling fans were not properly mounted, they were TAPED to the electrical box, there were HOT wires running throughout the wall with burn marks on them giving him the impression that they had been sparking within the walls. In other words, it was a hot mess.

Of course, my husband and I had to move completely out of the bedroom during this whole process. I set up shop in my little office and curled up on a mini-futon for two weeks (with a Chihuahua and a giant cat) and he made a bed in the basement. Let me just tell you, sleeping on a mini-futon with two pets is hell on the back.

I finally finished up the painting last weekend (I was grateful that it wasn't 100 degrees outside like it was when I originally painted the room) and we started moving back in. It's like a whole new bedroom, and now we don't have to worry about our ceiling collapsing on us in the night.

My next project is peeling wallpaper out of out half bath upstairs and replacing the ugly ass brass accents, getting a smaller sink/cabinet, and putting a new floor in. It's only taken me five years to get around to it, and it sucks. Now I know why I've waited so long.





On New Beginnings

Well, it seems if I don't have some sort of goal, ie: blogging a post a day, I won't post in this thing at all. I've got no damn discipline. Of course, if you know me, you'd know that by now.

In the wake of my not working on my current manuscript, for probably months, with the exception of working on it for like two days a few weeks back, I've decided to start another project. I know, I know, you're probably thinking... dumb ass, if you won't work on your existing manuscript, what makes you think you'll work on a second one? Well, you may be right, but based on my half-assed research, if a writer has a couple projects going, they can get some clarity and maybe come up with some new ideas for a project they're stumped on. Case in point, I have no idea where to take the story in manuscript #1 right now. It's already blossomed and changed from when I started it, and now I'm stuck, frustrated, I want to throw the whole thing out the window, but I know there's some good work in there.

Last night I started plotting out the bones of a new project, a book of short stories, which frankly has its own following. There aren't a lot of people who will respect of book of short stories, but for some, short stories are right up their alley. Of course, this will be something different, something edgier, something that might make your jaw drop, or maybe it will be crap. Only time will tell.

On Happiness

There is a handful of things, ideas, people that make me happy, but it seems like the idea of happiness always fades does it not? Whether it seems like a cop-out or not, my pets always make me happy. They're so unconditional, with the exception of my parrot, he can be a hateful little prick. Though, to his credit, he does warm up my heart when I'm uncovering his cage in the morning, and in his pitiful little bird voice he says Hello. I know he's probably not actually saying hello to me, but in my groggy state, I like to think so.

Then there is my fluffy little cat. He used to be a standoffish bastard, he'd come near you, on his terms, or when he wanted to eat. He can be an awful little brat, especially when food is concerned, but he also makes me laugh my ass off when he gets that crazy look in his eye, pins his ears back and runs bat-shit crazy through the house, possibly stopping to ninja kick someone. I do believe that since he had some life-saving surgery, he's changed his tune and he's much sweeter now. He likes to at least be in the same room as J or I unless of course there is a thunderstorm, thunder really gets his goat. He'll take naps with the dog, give him baths, even sit on the couch with us, as long as we don't touch him. He definitely makes things interesting.

And then there is the baby of the house. He can also be a little shit, for instance, he loves feces, any kind of feces will do, if it's in the yard or in the litter box, he digs it. He loves to roll in it, the smellier, the better in his opinion. He enjoys sneaking into the basement and marking or leaving a little turd for one of us to find. Otherwise, you can find him passed out on the couch. I mean, this dog is the laziest Chihuahua I've ever met. I love him because he digs the outdoors. Going for a walk in the woods? He's down. Hammocking on a warm summer day? Let's do it. Camping in the National Forest for the weekend? Okay! There isn't much this little guy won't do. It also doesn't hurt that he's a little cuddle-bug.

Even when I'm feeling down in the dumps, it's comforting to know I've got these guys at home to keep me company and just hang out with me when I'm feeling a bit blah. The dog also reminds me to stop being a selfish asshole and get over it because he needs to go out for a walk.

On Resurgence

Generally, my posts aren't very sincere or personal, but lately, I've been feeling like I need to vent. Blog, right?

I stopped taking the medication because while on it, I couldn't feel anything. I didn't feel happiness or excitement, or even the giddiness a normal person feels when something pretty awesome is about to happen. I didn't feel sad, I didn't get upset, absolutely nothing phased me. I was, for lack of a better word, numb to everything, I simply, was. I stopped taking it, because I felt like, I should have feelings, feelings about life.

I can't dispute that the medication worked for me, it absolutely did. It's sometimes amazing what scientists and physicians concoct chemically to counteract with a person's internal chemistry to make them come out alright, or at least make it possible for them to walk down the street day after day. I didn't feel those jitters, my heart did not race, it didn't feel like it was going to burst out of my chest. I didn't feel like I was suffocating and drowning. I didn't feel like I was going to die. I wasn't afraid of the next instance, I didn't think about the what ifs. I could walk around the world confidently, like a normal person. I wasn't thinking about my triggers.

This last time that I stopped taking it, I thought, I'll work this out naturally. I'll exercise, visualize, breathe, do yoga, check in to natural supplements. There's got to be a more healthy way than eating chemicals. I've exercised, I've visualized, I've breathed. These little steps quell the small instances, but I really can't control those major instances, the ones that feel like they're taking over my entire being.

I'm not sure I can hold out on my own any longer. Those thoughts are returning. The ones that keep me from living my life. The ones that keep me close to home, isolated. I can't help but think, what if I go do this, and I have a meltdown? Surely, I could just leave, but what if I couldn't? All those little what ifs, they really shouldn't matter. Living life is all about the experiences, and if you don't have those experiences, well, you're not really living your life are you?

On Mail

For whatever reason, I have a sick obsession with hard cover books. I don't know what it is about them that I love. Maybe it's because they seem almost indestructible with their tough exterior. Maybe I think they're the "hardasses" of the literary world. Paperbacks can get torn, ruffled, bent, tattered. But hardcovers, well, they're a whole different beast.

I've been on a kick of collecting some of my favorite books in hard cover. I've been trolling the local used book store to seize up their collection, I've been scanning Amazon for the best deals. Even though I've read these books at least a few times each, I still get excited about having them, about reading them again at some point. There's something about buying a used book that's in good condition. A used book sort of tells you two stories, the one that's printed on the pages, and the one that its condition will grant you.

I'm sort of a snob about buying used books though. The dust jacket has to be in pretty decent condition, the pages have to be just right, and the binding absolutely cannot be broken. My two most recent acquisitions were The Shining and Interview with the Vampire. Enclosed in this mail parcel was The Shining.

I still need a few more books to round out my "favorites" collection, I do still need to first four Dexter books for instance. After that, I might just continue to troll the used book stores for other books by my favorite authors.

On Colour!

Another work week has passed, it's Friday the 13th and everyone is hiding up their ass. I've never been over superstitious of Friday the 13th. I mean, it just doesn't seem too menacing when it happens in April. In case you want to get a head start, the next one takes place in July... I'm just sayin'.

Photo Processing Fun

J and I have undertaken a somewhat huge housing project in order to sell this place. He's starting moving items out of one of our bedrooms so we can start tearing out drywall and cleaning mold off the beams (it's a long story.) Afterwards, we'll be tearing the ceiling out of our master bedroom to replace sagging beams because some dumb ass took out a supporting wall turning that room into a huge master bedroom. Said dumb ass didn't put any support in the wall's place, so now the ceiling is trying to drop like it's hot.

The Actual Colors I'm Considering

Before we considered trying to sell this place I was imaging that since we'll have to do some repainting, why not repaint the whole house while everything is awry? Originally when we bought this place 5 years ago, I painted with cheap paint, in June, while it was 90 degrees outside, and really humid. Let's just say, the job doesn't look professional. I'd be happy painting this place in shades of blue and green, but since I do live with a man, I suppose I have to take his opinion into account as well.

However, now that we're considering trying to sell this place once it's fixed, these just might be the colors in our new house. I'm already dreaming about a little bit of land so I don't have to look at or speak to my neighbors, plenty of land for the little Chihuahua to frolic around on. I'm dreaming of a house that isn't rotting, a house that I actually love before we decide to buy it.

On Self-Portraits

Well, it's a brand new month. I've done nothing noteworthy with these first seven days of April, other than start to get my hot mess of a house fixed up so that hopefully one day I can sell this piece.

I've decided to start a new blogging venture, in the form of pictures. If I haven't mentioned it before, I sort of like taking pictures. I got the idea to do this while looking at really old family pictures of my great grandparents, and great-great grandparents. There were so many posed family shots, and J brought up an interesting point, no one does this anymore. What better way to document something than with pictures.

So, I'll work on posting a photo or two a week, with a different theme. Today I had a little fun with self-portraiture, photographing one's reflection. But isn't a photo of you a reflection on its own? So, wouldn't this be a reflection of a reflection? And maybe it even looks like I'm reflecting within reflection, within a reflection... you know, like Inception, all the dream within a dream bullshit. Okay, that's too confusing, here's what I came up with.

I always love to showcase my dark hair and eyes. Blondes might have more fun, but brunettes are more mysterious and highly indecipherable.

On Not Finishing What You Started

Well I missed the thirty-first day of my month-long blog challenge, but does that really surprise any of you? The important thing is that I kept up with it for at least... thirty days. Well, mostly.

To sum up my month long goals from earlier last month:

• I didn't get 10,000 more words finished on the book. As a matter of fact, I didn't work on the book at all, all month. Shame, shame on me.
• I had a marginal St. Patty's Day party on my front lawn. A few friends, a few drinks, sitting in a circle in my driveway. It was a good day however.
• I only spent 6 days straight playing the new Resident Evil game... because that's how long it took me to beat it.
• Umm.. I didn't keep up an exercise routine at all, though I had been taking my dog for regular walks while the weather was nice and I did go for one five mile bike ride.
• Jackasses annoy me even more.

For my next endeavor, I'm thinking about doing some sort of photo post. Maybe a once or twice a week picture post with a small description, because, we all know I can't post every single day.

Here's to April showers!