My boobs were my tools of the trade for almost 20 months.

Once my youngest daughter weaned herself from the Magical Boob Juice, the fun really began!

(And by fun we all know I mean chaos!)

Pull up a chair, sit a while, read a few pages.

Keep and open mind and a joyful heart and you too can get pumped into the world of The Milk Maid.


Sunday Night

Just hanging out here on the couch with Jef and the laptop... Ava is asleep in her bed* and Faith is slowly becoming a prune in her tub. Today was really nice! Nothing special or out of the ordinary- I haven't even left the house today.

*When Ava is sleepy, we have helped her learn to lay down in her bed "all by herself" and go to sleep to the sounds of her under the sea bubbler music aquarium and her Winnie The Pooh Mobile. This was surprisingly easy, as I don't go for the cry it out thing. It's helped her sleep at night a lot better too... she made it to 5:30 last nite, and then went back to bed until 7am. But... More on that another day!

Today was special because:

1. I got to shower with my sweetie. Now, there was nothing sexual or kinky going on (thanks AF!). Not that the AF thing would have made a difference... we shower together a lot- or used to before Ava. I have a rather large shower with 2 shower heads, and it's just our small way of saving the environment. And I get to see "boy stuff"... I admit it, I'm a horndog. (Note to self, start a nookie ticker... it's been a MONTH Jef. Ahem!! And hint, hint!).

2. Ava was a cheerful little booger. She grabbed the cat and tried to eat him, she played with her toys on her blanket in the floor, she smiled and jabbered dahdahdahdahdahdahdah (dahdah) all day long. I'm just a little jealous that I carried this baby for 38 weeks and 6 days, had blood blistered nipples from bf-ing, gave up all (most all) of my bad habits for her, and still can't get more than 3 hours away... and her first words were still dahdah. But- why would she call for me?... I'm always there. Sigh- It's too adorable to be jealous over.

3. I painted the rest of the yellow in Faith's bathroom, and wasn't haunted by anything except a 9 year old and her constant babble. She's excellent at holding a paint can though, so she earned her keep.

4. My mother lost her cell phone, and it wasn't my fault. She tried to blame ME... but dad found it in his truck. Ha! Haha! Hahahahahahhahaaa! Yeah, I'm gloating over that one!!

5. We cleaned the kitchen. It looked like a crap-bomb went off in there. Now Faith pretends she doesn't know who's kitchen she's in.

6. I got to be with my favorite people today (other than those who require an internet connection) . My best friends live here with me. I know, that's so cliche and ookie and gooshie sounding. But it's true. My best friend is my hubster. My other best friends are my two girlies.

Life be good my peeps!



The cat has maybe 2 weeks left to live peacefully, as Ava will have mastered crawling by then. Poor cat. Poor, poor Chip.

Ava has one more talent she decided to share with us this week... She said "dada". Dada cried.


Knock on Wood

Ava has slept all nite the past 3 nights (hence the title). I don't remember the last time I felt so perky! Ok, so maybe not perky, but definitely able to think somewhat rationally and make decisions. Well, some decisions.

I am still tossing the ball back and forth between the new mortgage gig. I'm totally undecided as to what path to take. I'm waiting for neon lights to go off I suppose and point me in the right direction. I'm a chicken-head (which today I have decided to hyphenate).

I had weirdo baby dreams last night. In one Jef had bought me 2 different packs of prenatals to try and gave them to me to take at my parent's house so I would be ready when we opened our "Just Add Water" Grow a Baby Kit he'd bought. Which made me think of this picture:
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If I'm not up taking care of one, I'm dreaming about making more!

Of course I told him about it, and he was all "no comment". You see how far I get into that subject these days.


I'm Buzzing!

No, I have not been into the Patron Tequila. My head is buzzing for a far less fun reason than that (even considering that the last time I shot tequila I puked on the side of the road, in a car, in my floor, in the shower, knocked myself unconscious, and woke up with a fro!).

I have a cold. I'm all sinusy (new word) and I keep looking at the floor to see if my eyes have fallen out yet. Oh what fun this is! Ava is snotty- that's the best description I can give you. It's not really phasing her. She did sleep 13 hours last night though. The past two nights I have managed a reprieve from being her late night snack bar. Not sure what's different there (children's Tylenol?!) but I'm stoked dudes. (The cold meds make me think I'm a surfer- Hang ten!).

I got offered a job today. Ok, so perhaps that's the kind of news that should be 1st paragraph stuff. I'm not sure how I feel about the whole deal though. It's another mortgage job (she said with her eyes rolling). Don't get me wrong- I've made my fair share of moolah in the mortgage biz. The company I'm with now is great, but my broker is another story entirely. We're pals, but she's going thru a nasty divorce. I've had a nasty divorce. I know just how someone in her position thinks (little lights blinking "crazy alert!"). In fact, she's at about Chapter 12 of the book called "How NOT to go about getting a divorce"... co-written by me and Jef. He was going thru the Big D the exact same time I was. I'll tell you the "how we met story" one day. It's very Springer. Anywho, it took me over a month to get paid from my last closing. My theory is she needed the money and borrowed it from me until she could pay it back. Friends, huh?!

Back to my original point- the mortgage job. This is where my scared, fearful side comes out to taunt me. Will I remember HOW to actually do a mortgage? Will I look like a complete idiot in front of this guy? Will I fail yet again at something because I'm a big-fat-chickenhead?! Is chickenhead one or two words?!

So, basically I have a lot of thinking to do. The job is 100% commission- typical. No leads provided- typical. No set office hours- bonus! This guy (Tim) asked ME to come work for HIM. I wasn't hunting a job. So that's good. He was the VP of the bank my dad was a board member of... cue the "not a good thing" music. I've always lived in the "Shadow of Harold" ("Have you met Harold's daughter?" ... "I've heard all about you from your dad!" ... "Hello Harold, Jr."). For once I want to stand up, smack down, and make them scream MY name. Haha- Who's yo daddy now?!

So does my job-timidness stem from not wanting to live in the constant shadow of expectation from everyone expecting me to be just like dear old dad? Or is it the good ol fear of falling flat on my face in front of authority?

I have a lot of thinking to do... I believe I will begin my thinking with my eyes closed on a pillow!


I See Dead People....

I finally watched The Sixth Sense a while back, and I guessed the "surprise" before the end of the movie. If you haven't seen the movie, I'm not ruining it for you. But, I guessed it. Just like I guessed the whole plot of The Others after about 5 minutes, any M. Night Shamalayn movie (like The Village), or any Dean Koontz book. It's a talent, I suppose.

But what about real ghosts or spirits or entities, whatever they prefer to be called these days (they are on the politically correct bandwagon too, I'm almost certain). Does anyone besides me believe in them? I'm sure there's a good portion of people who cheer for one side or another on that argument. We wont debate their existence today. However I will relate a brief story to you about ghosties.

Yesterday I was painting Faith's bathroom upstairs. We have a hallway/catwalk deal that is open to the living room and goes from Paige's old room to my office (and then into Faith's room). Jef and I have both seen something walk across up there. We're very used to it, in fact. We think Faith is standing up there and we just start chatting and look up to see no one.

So, when something moved across the opening of the doorway in the upstairs , I wasn't all that alarmed. The more I painted though, the more I felt that creepy sensation that something was watching me.

Now, I'll stop and say that Yes, I believe in ghosts. I've seen a lot of weird things in my life that I couldn't explain any other way than them being what I would call a ghost. 99% of these things don't frighten me. That stems from being a kid who saw a lot of things that adults around me just didn't see and hearing things that other people didn't hear. I learned to ignore it for the most part, with a random exception here and there.

Ok, back to the story. When I continued to feel the presence of whatever was making itself known, I didn't like it one little bit. In short, it scared the crap out of me. I finished painting what little there was, then hurriedly washed the roller off in the tub. I halfway did a decent job, and practically ran down the stairs to the front porch. I immediately texted Jef and told him.

Poor Jef used to think I was off my rocker until he started seeing stuff too. He was like, "Go to your mom's house". I did.

I'm still kinda weary of going back up there now. I know, I'm such a chicken! It's not like were in an old house or anything- I built this house 7 years ago. The land has been in my family for over 100 years though, and there's no telling what was here before us. It just really makes me wonder.... And hope my new "pal" goes away. Soon!


7 Months and Counting!

Ava and I have made it to our 7th month together as a breastfeeding team! It's hard to look back and remember how tiny she was and how afraid I was that I'd fail at the whole bf-ing gig like I did with Faith.

Fortunately for me, Ava was a natural born boobie-baby. After she was back in the room from being cleaned up, the doctor came by to check her out. He popped his finger into her mouth to test her suck reflex and he said, "Boy mom, do I feel sorry for you!". She almost took the man's finger off. Most babies lose 7-10% of their birth weight in the first few days of life. Not Ava- she gained an ounce before leaving the hospital. My overachiever! I had the breastfeeding equivalent of "purple nurples". Just think about that one!

She's continued to grow at a rapid pace. Of course, if I ate every hour I'd be the size of an elephant too. At her 6 month checkup, she was as tall as the average 10-11 month old. Heaven help that girl when she starts dating-- I'm almost 5'8 and almost no guys were taller than me until 11th grade.

I don't know if I ever shared this pic of Ava before- it's right after she was born. She came so fast (under 3 hours total, from water breaking to her arrival) that she was bruised. What can I say, my children are impatient little devils.
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I bought a new car seat for her. She's too leggy for the "baby bucket". I was going to buy a nice, reasonably priced Graco or something. Everything we looked at kept pointing us to the Britax brand. Jef said, "How do you put a price on her safety" as he held Ava up. He should be a travel agent for guilt trips. We bought the Britax Marathon. And I love it!! Oh, and Ava does too.


The Hamhock Incedent

No good deed goes unpunished, I have learned.

I was simply cleaning my fridge when suddenly the God of Unwise Decisions was dislodged from my crisper drawer, along with a very old Tupperware container of black eyed peas.

Now, I've referenced many, many times at how I am not the most tidy of Domestic Divas. Sometimes, when nothing else will fit or things start to smell a little funky (or Jef hasn't gotten pissed and done it himself) I will clean out the fridge. I had been getting whiffs of something for about a week, and after grocery shopping yesterday I decided to investigate. Well, there were those black eyed peas, sitting ever so sadly in the crisper. Their Glad Cling Wrap was all twisted off the top of the container (I cant find lids for anything!). They were partially frozen (things are very crisp partially frozen, no?) and starting to look like a science project the school geek once made (that was me).

I debated for a moment what to do with aforementioned peas. If I dumped the container of them out in the yard, then Buster Weener would eat them and have even more gas than normal. "I could throw the whole container away..." I said to myself. But it was my grandmother's bowl, and I'm a sentimental fool, so that was out too. I wasn't about to let them sit and seep in a garbage bag all nite in the garage- foul! So, I asked myself, "What would Big J do?" (And I am referencing my hubby here, not the other Big J that's synonymous with WWJD- He would simply throw the peas into the cosmos).

"FLUSH THEM!" I squealed, scaring both the cat and the baby. So to the potty I trotted.

I thought this amount of black eyed peas would for sure be a two-flusher. So I plopped half of them into their watery grave, pulled the handle, and waved bye bye to the rancid mess.

And then it happened. Everything went into slow motion about the time the water stopped swirling and going down. I kept thinking, I know this toilet will handle a few peas... I know the people who live here. Peas should be a treat for this potty! And it hit me... like the wafting scent of nasty leftovers. There was a ham hock in those damn peas. Gulp!

In the South, we cook everything we can get away with in pork fat or something as close to that as possible. I'm not exactly sure what a hock is (ankle joint?) but it sure does taste good in beans and peas and collards!

But they don't flush very well. Starting to over analyze and try to think myself thru toilet anatomy I concluded that bones aren't designed to make the S-curve thru the pea trap, and pea trap sounded like a long hidden warning that was now mocking me.

Plunger! I can go a little reverse suction and fix it before Jef got home. Hey, I watch DIY... I am such a home repair chick! So, I grabbed the plunger and starting doing my thing. I plunged a lot, and stuff seemed to be blowing around a lot in there so I flushed again. It didn't work, so I kept plunging for what seemed like eternity. I finally got the water to drain and refill with no sign of peas or ham hock.

I dumped the remainder of the peas off the back deck into the yard below and giggled to myself as Buster Weener nearly busted a nard flying down the steps to get to them. He will most definitely spend a lot of time outside today.


Post-it Maxi Note Pads

From time to time I do consumer product surveys online and for some surveys they will ship a product to me for testing. I make a little extra dough (about $1-$10 per survey) and I get free stuff to use. I was telling Jef about my latest shipment that arrived for me to try out (Jef always types in all caps because his system at work requires that. I'm too lazy to edit it all, so excuse!):

A: I got a survey box. A box o' pads!
A: yah, periods- neeeeet-OOO, hahaha
A: yeah, not for notes
A: It's cool. You could use them as a note pad I guess.
A: they'd play hell on marker ink
A: dissapearing ink. i can see it now: dear stayfree- your notepads are too absorbent. you owe me 3 new sharpies.

I cant mention post its without mentioning my mother. Mom was a school secretary for almost 20 years. At the end of a school year, or when she'd change jobs from school to school, she kinda just helped herself to a box of post it notes and various other office supplies. Now, when I say "box of post its" I dont mean a small shoe box or stapler box. I mean a copy paper box! Long story short, I never buy office supplies. And to think she once scolded me for taking a petal from a silk flower from Roses Dept Store when I was 3 (it was sooo pretty!).

If you are interested in surveys check out (aka NFO). You earn points and can cash them in with those guys. There's another called Anne Parks or something that sends $4 for completing their surveys.

I'm off shortly to go meet with my h.s. reunion crew. We were supposed to meet yesterday, but the restaurant was closed when we got there (it's a pizza place, and their fryer was broken. Fried pizza?! WTH!!??). So, take two is today... if I dont go all anti-social and fake an illness. Rest assured, I'll keep you posted!


"The Missing Blood Pressure Pill"

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The Missing Pill... A one act comdey of errors by A & J.

(Scene- Split screen between Jef's work & Aradia's trusty laptop)

J: I had a blood pressure pill this morning, now I dont. Weirdo.
A: (worried) Hummy, I need to bring you another!
J: NAH, I get it tonite.
A: (Scolding) Dont you forget. Where'd you have it last?
J: (Innocently) In my pocket with my antibiotic.
A: (Still scolding) Where's your antibiotic?
J: In my belly! (J grins)
A: Is your bp with it?
J: Nope I couldn't find it. It dissappeared. AMAZING!
A: (brooding, not really buying it) Hummm... dig deeper!
J: Probablly dropped it somewhere.
A: (not one to take no for an anwser) Like where....?
J: I turned my pocket inside out. I dunno.
A: (overly dramtic) Think, Think!! Before your heart explodes! Whhhhhaaaaa!!
J: (Desperate to give answer) At the store this morning putting air in my tire maybe?
A: Some soul who has a flat will need it i suppose (finally caves).
J: Yeah, they may be stressed!
A: (Siiigh)

Weekly Recap

Lots going on this week... Let's sum it all up and put it to bed!

Jef's Nose: Finally, after a few days of being packed, his nose decided to stop bleeding. They unpacked him, cauterized a few more places, and he slept like a little angel (that could breathe) last nite. I hope this is the last mention of his dang nose ever- evereverever!

I'm helping to coordinate my high school reunion. I cant even remember if I blogged this- maybe I just mentioned it to Tracey- I dunno. I'm the treasurer, in charge of tickets, and helping prep the venue. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I didn't like these people in hs, now I'm being all friendly to them. Perhaps I've mellowed. Maybe I just need interaction with adults that don't bleed on me. Either way- I hope this doesn't become the beast that cant be controlled.

Mgrube (Marcy & Kris) didn't get their BFP that they SO freakin' deserve. "What the hell!?!", I yell, shaking my fists in the air at the BFP fairy. If I ever catch that BFP fairy, I'm kicking her scrawny ass all over town. So sorry girls... IVF will do it for you. And Tracey can give you tons of advice cause....

Sassy T is an Injectables Chick! Yep- Ol Tracey is well on her way down the IVF road. She's gonna be knocked up, out in her pop up camper, having all kinds of fun this summer. Rah! Rah!

Well gang, that's all for now. Catch ya when I can~


My Mother Said What??

To lighten the mood and talk about something other than Jef and his nose, I will relate to you all an incident that happened while I was driving my mother to Wal-Mart the other day:

I'm driving, mom is in back with Ava. We approach train tracks that we must cross to get to Wal-Mart. There is a main line that runs thru the small town we were in, and many little tracks that shoot off to the sides where trains can load and unload at the various manufacturing plants in the area.

My mother shouted in disbelief and pointed, "Well, that train just stopped right in the middle of those tracks!"

I reply, "Was it supposed to pull over to the side or something? It's a train mom, not a car."

Gotta love moms!

As His Packing Gently Weeps

To catch you up to speed, Jef went to the doc yesterday and had his nose cauterized 3-4 times. That did nothing for the bleeding (if you're timing this, he's up to 27 hours of his nose bleeding). The doc finally decided to shove 6 feet of gauze up his nose (yes, I said 6 feet). The bleeding was coming from about 2.3 of the way back in his sinuses, and was definitely from his sinus infection being "overly irritated" (understatement?!). That seemed to do it, and Jef came home.

Then the other side started to bleed.

After a few choice words from me, Jef called and decided to head back to the doctor. Before he could get there, it seemed to let up so he reversed course and came home. The doctor felt it was just seeping over from the other side.

Jef got a good nap on the couch, and make it thru about half the night without further incident (other than his face bruising and his eye nearly swelling shut from the pressure of the packing). Then he started hacking up blood and blood clots again. He spend most of the nite in the bathroom or on the couch. However, my brave fella has decided to go to work today and tuff it out. I don't understand that one, but who am I to tell him what to do?

The funny thing is (and there is always a funny thing) MY nose is stopped up on the side he has all his packing in. It's been stopped up on that side since he had his nose-tampon put in. I guess it serves me right to have nose sympathy... he did throw up for me a lot while I was preggo. It's the very least I can do.

Hopefully, there will not be a 4th installment of the nose-saga, but if there is hopefully I wont have to insult Eric Clapton to name it!


Sick Husbands- Part 2

(This post may not be suitable for the faint of heart or easily grossed out. I'm blogging about blood and other gross stuff, so run away now if you're squeamish!)

Well my dearest little Jef was supposed to have a doctor's appointment yesterday for his sore throat. We went to grab lunch a few hours before the appointment, came back home to eat, and that's when his nose started to bleed.

Now, to put this into perspective, I've had nosebleeds my whole life. As a kid, I would have 4-5 big ones a week. I've had nasal arteries cauterized, my nose packed, and was voted most likely to carry cotton balls in my book bag. Some nosebleeds were heavy, some not so bad. I've never been bothered by them, or when anyone else's nose would bleed.

So, when Jef's nose started bleeding yesterday I thought nothing of it. I had him pack it with a cotton ball, tilt forward, apply pressure to the bridge of the nose, and grabbed an ice pack for him. Long story short, after 2 hours of this it was time to move to bigger and better methods- the doctor's office.

Well, apparently, bleeding is not on the list of "important conditions" for our doctor who told Jef he could "work him in tomorrow". By this time, his nose had started to pour blood and he was coughing up clots that looked like large oysters. Long story short, after trying to get into a quick care clinic (they don't take HMOs- grrrrr!) we landed at the ER. After waiting 2 hours they said "apply pressure, lean forward, check you in a bit". An hour later they gave Jef nose spray to try to quell the flood. No change. Then they tried a clotting paste. Nothing. Then they finally (nearly 5 hours later) decided to pack his nose with what can only be described as an inflatable tampon soaked in antibiotics. That stopped the flow, they gave him an Rx for a severe sinus infection, and we were heading back home.

Of course, it would all be too simple if the story stopped there, right?

We went to bed around 10, and I woke up when Jef did around 1:30. He kept coughing up clots and his nose was seeping again, so he tried to tend to himself as best he could.

Then I hear him say "it fell out". The nose tampon (literally the size and shape of a jr tampon) had come dislodged somehow and AGAIN, the nose was pouring blood. I grabbed a cotton ball, the thrombin clotting agent from the hospital, and made a "bullet" to shove up his nose. And let me just say, by this point I was pooped- I needed sleep- and being gentle was no longer in my nature. I shoved the cotton as far up his nose as it would possibly go. And then I gave it another shove. He slept after that, and it held until about 8am.

He's off to his doc appointment now, so we'll see how that goes. I'm going to take Ava to my mom's house and try to grab some shut eye.

And one last thing to ponder:

Why do I always compare gross stuff to food? I'm sure Tracey remembers my description of my mucus plug all too well: "Chicken Tender". Now we have blood clot oysters to add to the menu. I'll never see the Daytona Beach Oyster Pub in quite the same light again.


Sick Husbands, Cravings, and My Mom

Having a sick hubby is like having a sick baby. You love them to death, but after a few days you really want to send them to a relative so you can take a nap. (He's watching me type this too- haha).

More than a nap, more than anything else I can think of right now, I really want FOOD. Lots of food too (damn that Food Network). On my craving list is spaghetti, sushi, Philly cheese steak, pizza, and fettuchine alfredo. And a bagel. Wow- I totally need to get preggo again so I dont crave stuff anymore. Too weirdo. Oh, a beer would be nice too- but it's really early for that.

My mother has the most unique way of saying things. Now I dont mean she's outstanding with her ability to use tact- oh heavens no. She'd tell the Pope to kiss her butt! She just mixes up words and turns them to mush. Here's a few examples:

Chucky Cheese= Chunky Cheese
Won Tons= Wong Tongs
Tilapia (the fish)= tuhlopeeuh

This makes me insane. I just thought I'd share and make you crazy too!


Famous Breastfeeing Moms

We're all famous... these ladies are just a little more well known "outside" our circle!

Tori Amos
Pamela Anderson
Erykah Badu
Christie Brinkley
Katie Couric
Cindy Crawford
Celiene Dion
Jodie Foster
Jennie Garth
Tipper Gore
Faith Hill
Joan Lunden
Andie McDowell
Elle McPherson
Demi Moore
Julianne Moore
Sarah Jessica Parker
Tracy Pollan
Jane Seymour
Patricia Richardson
Holly Robinson Peete
Kelly Preston
Jada Pinkett Smith
Meryl Streep
Cheryl Swoopes
Uma Thurman
Cynthia Watros
Rita Wilson
Catherine Zeta-Jones

Go Team Boobie (Go Team Formula too, no judgement here!)


Bigger & Better

Thanks for all the kind words and well wishing from all of you this past week. Sometimes it just seems that the darkness engulfs you and there is no way back into the light. I always have to remember that I'm only as far in as I'll ever be out. It's that simple. Now as long as I don't have another period that lasts 10 days, perhaps I wont be visiting crap-land again. But that's a whole other story to be blogged on some other day.

If you haven't heard, Ava is up to 17lbs 14 oz (By my scale she was closer to 19... but that makes ME feel lighter too!) and is 28 1/4" tall. She's the average height of a 10 month old (if I understood the doctor correctly). Any way you cut it, the doctor recommended a new car seat for her. She's way too long for the "bucket", so I'm shopping for a new rear facing seat. What a "pita" that is (new abbreviation standing for "Pain In The Ass"). There are 4,000 different kinds ranging in price from about $69 to $369 bucks! I have 3 car seats from when Faith was little, but I'm not sure if they are up to todays standards for car seat safety. I really just need to bite the bullet and go spend the moolah.

Speaking of moolah- it's extra tight this month. We had a man say he was coming to buy Jef's Porsche 928 and wanted to know if we had the title in hand. Well, we owed a few thousand on it, so Jef had me go pay it off (thinking the guy would come with a check). Long story short, the guy didn't take it, and we're a little off budget this month. Luckily, I have access to the "First Bank of Dad" and I'm going to take advantage of that. Hopefully the damn car will sell soon, and I wont have to sell my firstborn to the gypsies.

Easter is around the corner. I was raised baptist, but it didn't really suit me. Not to offend, but I like to make my own mind up about everything- and being told how to live my life, what was right and wrong, and how sinful I was just pissed me off. Oh, and there was that one instance where I was told "I wasn't good enough in God's eyes to be married in His house" because I was pregnant. And the "preacher" telling me this was born out of wedlock. Go figure!

So, to celebrate Easter, I go with the old belief of holding high the fertility goddess! Eggs colored red have been used at the Spring Equinox as far back as the Mesopotamian cultures. Red is the color of blood and life, while the egg itself represents birth and regeneration. And of course we all know how fertile rabbits are!

Having adventured through the land of "troubled conception" (as have most of you, my readers) I think this is the perfect time of year for all our pals who haven't gotten their babies yet to see that BFP! So CHEERS to all! And go get knocked up!


Crappie is a fish... and a mood.

Guess the title says it all, huh? The blahs have found my address and moved in once more just in time to help me throw a mini-pity party.

I'm guessing it's hormone related, but isn't everything? We ride the tide in and out on our little moodie-boards and have very little control over where we wash. I feel like I just took a face plant in the sand... on a rock.

I could make a huge list of all my worries and trepidations here for you to mull over, but why drag you, my loyal friends and readers, down into my abyss. Let's just keep it brief, and say nothing has gone right this week. Or last week. Other than my internet pals, I have no one that I can open up to. That's my fault for being the lone wolf of the bunch. I feel like that moody, brooding teenager full of angst who sat in her bedroom writing poetry and novels. Even in my own short stories and novels, my character was always typecast to be the outsider.

Well, enough wallowing for one day. Thanks for wading thru the surf of discontent with me. Maybe tomorrow I will have something a little more light hearted to share.
"Uh Oh... My Tail Fell Off"



Once the ol' boobs get larger than a 36C, bra shopping can become shear torture. My only "requirements" for bra hunting were that:

1. It be comfortable. (And considering I'd been wearing a bra from nearly 10 years ago in high school, then that shouldn't have been too much to ask).
2. It be pretty. Anything my grandmother or mother would find attractive was out.
3. It not have 14 hooks OR require a degree in rocket science to get into and out of.

Those are pretty simple requirements, right? Well, it should have been.

Friday afternoon I headed to Target, grabbed a 38D (it looked good held up to my chest, no need to try it on) and was on the road back home within about 20 minutes. I stopped by my mom's house so she could watch Ava while I tried my new bra on (I need time to bend and stretch and dance in front of the mirror... and mom has a nice full length mirror).

The damn bra wouldn't hook. Or hold the boobage. I was pissed... and amazed. So I immediately sent a text to Jef. He asked that I text a photo to him. I told him to shove it.

Anyways, when he got home we measured so I would have a better idea of what to go shop for. According to my tape, it was about a 40 D. Jef was amuzed. I wasn't thrilled- that puts me in territory that even my mom doesn't tread anymore (she had a breast reduction). There just comes a time when enough is enough... I wanted my perfect little 34C back, and I wanted it immediately.

So, Saturday was filled with more shopping... Target, Belk, Kohls. Everything was either hideous or too small. I was ready to give up, but I compromised on a bra at Kohls that was ugly, but didn't make me want to burst into tears... not immediately anyway. We went to eat dinner with Jef's oldest daughter Paige for her birthday, and I was in a snit the whole time.

I just wanted a cute little bra. Not too frilly, not a push-up. Just something pretty. Just something that a 28 year old might wear and her husband say "hubba hubba". Instead, all I could picture was me wearing the granny-bra, and some old man making obscene noises and gesturing my way. A few Bahama Mamas did nothing for my disposition except send me into an even tighter downhill spiral.

I woke up this morning still pissed at the bra. It's not its fault, but left with nothing else to sublimate my rage towards, the bra is my scape goat.

I understand the bra-burning of the 60's now.