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.


Project: Project

I think we all know from the crazy babble that this Milk Maid spills out on a regular basis that when it comes to me the saying that goes "Idle hands do the Devil's work" is 100% factual in my life.

Before I had a blog I had a chat room to occupy my time.

Before I had school to occupy my days I had a big case of The Crazy.

After the schooling was over I went to clinicals which kept me very well occupied.

Now with the J-O-B thing being like second nature to me I find myself having more time to think. And not "think" in the sense of the good sort of thoughts. My mind zooms around creating demons to fight and dragons to slay and other imaginary beings to conquer.

So, instead of becoming that ever-so-large Mountain Of Insanity that spews molten crazy all over the place I am entrusting you, my dearest readers, in helping me find something to occupy myself.

I am leaning towards writing finishing a book. Of course this book would be styled like my blog- minus the parts where I go in over my head right towards the deep end of loo-loo-ville. Some of you will remember how I used to write funny and witty stuff all the time. Once upon a time. Somewhere before school and kidneys and everything else got in the way.

If I were to write finish a book, what would you look for within the pages?

--The Milk Maid says she gets all clammy just thinking of having to finish a project like this.


Thanks to all of you who have read and posted a comment or just sent some silent love and healing my way...

I'm feeling better, but not quite ready to crawl completely out of my nice, snug hole just yet.

I appreciate all of you~

The Milk Maid


The Door Marked Exit

I have it all.

Two beautiful children. A damn-near perfect husband. A cat, a dog, 2 llamas, a horse. Oh yeah, the big house, the nice cars. The flippin American Dream, people.

So why am I feeling like I am tonight?

Let's start here: For those of you who think I have no reason what-so-ever to even utter a single discouraging word considering my many blessings, well- go fuck yourselves. I've worked my ass off for or paid my dues in some way or another for what I have. Maybe I've not suffered in the same way you have, but there have been hardships and tears. If you can be a big enough person to let that all go for a few minutes, and if you can really lend an ear, be a friend, or at least send one single healing and hopeful thought my way, then by all means keep reading.

Here are some helpful tips for reading this post:

  1. All words in parenthesis are what my brain is shouting.
  2. Those words are preceded by what my logical mind is telling me to put on paper.
  3. None of this will probably make much sense, but it's either coming out here or somewhere it can do some damage. Face it, words are just words- they don't just fly off the paper and key cars in a parking lot or beat mall-punks with whiffle ball bats half full of sand.

Ok- now for the good stuff (crazy shit):

I have battled (argued with) depression (The Crazy) since I was in my early teens. It took me until I was 20-ish and going through a divorce/managing an affair/finding out my best friend at the time was also having an affair with the guy I was screwing for me to realize that I had a case of The Crazy. I started having panic attacks and hallucinations and heart palpitations before I decided to go see my trusted Ob/Gyn Dr. Karin (decided to = dragged there by a co-worker... literally!).

Anyways, a couple months of the big Z(oloft) under my belt and I had a toilet epiphany to change my life and actually live LIFE for once.

Years later, after weaning myself off the Z, I started having Very Bad Thoughts. By this time Big J and I were married and trying to procreate. Yadda, blah and such I was introduced to my dear friend Lexi (

We will skip forward to now- seeing as how most of you know the past few years by heart as this point (bless you all for still loving me). I've been taking Lexi for about 7 months... 8 months... 5 months? Hell if I know, because ey- it's been that nice of a ride. I've felt normal (as normal as possible). I've felt in control of myself, my life, and all those nasty little thoughts I'd normally be having if it weren't for Lexi (the thoughts of boogaboogabooga ya know).

That was until about 5 days ago.

I'm not PMS-ing. I'm not mid-cycle. There hasn't really been any huge schedule change or ANY FREAKIN THING to make me have The Crazy (boogaboogabooga). My trusted Ob/Gyn Dr. K suggested that I up my dose of the Lexi about 5 days before my period is due just to curb any small feelings of dread or grouchiness I have always had. For 2 months I've had no problem with this at all.

But now... The Crazy is here. And the walls are closing in on me and I'm crying for no reason and I'm distancing myself from those I love. I'm snappy with the kids. I'm forcing myself to walk away instead of making a scene or yelling or showing my ass in front of the kiddos (or Jef or my boss or my parents... ok not really so much with the parents).

I don't want to feel like this. I want OUT of this brain that is controlling my body because it is not ME in control.

I've had the suggestion of changing up brands of meds to see if that would help. I've had someone mention meds that would complement my current treatment. I have thought about therapy (but quite frankly all I would do is hand Dr. Shrink a manuscript of my blog and say here-ya-gooo!).

I'm at a loss. I can't continue like I am feeling. I can't risk feeling "better" a week from now and then crashing back to this place.

--The Milk Maid says she just wants to be herself.


Just When You Think She Hates You She Goes And Holds Your Hair While You Puke

Friday night, after closing the satellite location I will call Doodoo-ville, I went to meet my co-workers Margarita, RoxC, and Tiny-Whiny. We met at a little hole in the wall that features a live band, cheep drinks, and a cozy atmosphere.

Being a little late to the party (again I was driving from Doodoo-ville and they were mere minutes away from the locale) I was bound and determined to catch up to their festive mood by imbibing a few quick vodka-crans.

Normally, being the social, and well occasionally not-so-social-drinker, that I am I have no problem holding my alcohol.

Only I'd gone a little light on breakfast that day. And I ate an early and small lunch. And well, sometimes I forget how fast The Vodka can catch up with me especially when I'm slamming back the smooth refreshing taste of cranberry with every drop.

Somewhere between dirty dancing with RoxC and Random Bar Lady Who Helped Herself To A Cheese stick I Was Eating and my buddy Margarita leaving and some more dancing and a whirl and a whoosh of activity my brain and eyes were too slow to follow I remember uttering the words, "I gotta barf!".

Tiny-Whiny held my hand and led me to the bathroom. I locked myself in the stall and starting riding the vomit comet. As I was enjoying my hard-earned hurl RoxC starting banging on the stall door. By banging I mean trying to kick the door off its hinges. I unlock the door, see a boot inches from my face, and return to my business. Tiny-Whiny grabs my hair and starts trying to hold it back or tie it up or something (hell I can't exactly remember what she was doing, I was drunk you know). Then, these words flowed from her mouth: It's ok, this is how we did it in prison!

Note to self and anyone else trying to lend a hand to me as I am on my hands and knees with my ass in the air puking my guts out: Never ever compare that moment to prison.

About that same time a small white object is flung at me. The small white object (that appeared to be a pill of some sort) rolled under the sanitary waste disposal can. Tiny-Whiny grabbed the small object as RoxC was yelling "give it to her". Tiny-Whiny shoved the tiny pill, the tiny pill that had been on the public bathroom floor under the bin where products used to quell menstrual flow are thrown away, into my mouth.

Well oh well Alice In Wonderland- if the one you eat makes you taller and the one you drink makes you smaller, then what does the white one do? It makes you stop hurling (phenergan) and call you husband and ask for a ride home.

The moral of the story?

People who are assholes in your work life may very well be the ones holding you hair as you puke one day, so tread lightly.

--The Milk Maid says sing me a song piano man!

Maybe I should send Tiny-Whiny some flowers a some New York Yankees tickets


Flopping Through Life Like A Stinky Fish

So, 2009 is here.

So far, so good.

It's only been four days though... give it time!

Work has been busy. I'm still recovering from a cold that has been dragging on for a month. I'm down to just the snots now, so I'm much improved.

We all had a fabulous Christmas- the girls got way more than they needed, Jef was spoiled, I was spoiled.

I'm looking at trading my car (Ni.ssan Ar.mada) and Jef's ride (Mer.cedes 230 S.LK) for a smaller and more economic vehicle with less of a payment. If anyone has any suggestions for new or used cars (vans/SUVS/trucks/donky carts) under the $20k range then give me a shout out in the comment section.

I promise to write more often than I have been... I'm a slacker and I know it!

--The Milk Maid claps her hands!