Now I know what Dad went thru... even if it is only temporary

Last night, I discovered that I can barely hear out of my left ear.

I must have some kind of (ewww) wax build-up that I need to address in a hurry. In my math class today, I thought Kalea was asking me to spell "Chinese food", instead of her saying she smelled Chinese food...

It's driving me nuts.

My dad was deaf in one ear due to a jeep accident after WWII which ruptured his eardrum. Now I kind of know what he went thru during the last half of his life.

And it's a little late to commiserate, now, isn't it?

Guess I'll have to take advantage of the "family discount" and have Dean check my ear and remove any wax that may be in there. I kinda need to hear, don't I?


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

crossposted here

Welcome all to my disciplined breakdown

(Because if I'm going to go looney tunes, I'm going to do it my way, dammit!)

Before you even ask, Larry, my week sucked.

If Daniel and his smashed up thumb wasn't enough, I had to stay home from school on Tuesday because of some stomach bug. And, because it was raining cats and dogs and chickens and goats when I attempted to walk to school today, I ended up staying home again. I can't miss any more school, so I HAVE to get my transportation issues taken care of, like yesterday.

And there's an issue with the internet service I have from Cox in my neighborhood, so the connection has been iffy since last night. To finish my homework last night, I ended up on someone's wireless signal. Cox assures me that the issues should be resolved by this afternoon.

Now, I'm at the library, on my laptop, typing away. Oh. Joy.

Here is my view from the library:


This is S.E. 15th Street in Del City. Off to the right somewhere is the baseball field at Del City High School.

And this is the library's view of yours truly:


Stef being her usual smartass self.

Right now, as I type this, it's raining again. It's raining hard. I might be here a while.

This just hasn't been my week. Maybe next week will be better. It certainly can't get any worse, can it? (Wait! Don't answer that! You'll jinx me!)

hope your week off was better than mine. see ya soon, cowboy!

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

The Post wherein Stef talks about the Comedy of Errors her weekend turned out to be

or, "How an innocent trip to the Redhawks game went horribly wrong".

Granted, it didn't go horribly wrong until after we got home, but still and all, it was quite an interesting weekend.

Dean had won an auction at Marc and Amalia's school for a block of tickets, in a box, no less, so all ten of us in the family, plus people that work for the medical group that Dean practises with to the Oklahoma Redhawks game last Saturday night.

We were in a corporate box, where food and snacks and sodas were provided, and we watched the Redhawks get beat by the Round Rock Express (the Redhawks left their pitcher in much too long, IMHO, and he got tired). It was pretty fun, even if Dean, Scott and Marc left in the third inning to meet up with a group of Boy Scouts to go camping in Colorado.

Scott got his learners permit, and he has this habit of not smiling in pictures (he got it from Jeff), and he looks more and more like his father every year. It's almost scary.

He's also getting a job this summer, so he's one of the throng of teenagers looking for work, but not until after he gets back from Colorado next Sunday (Father's Day).

It took us forever to get out of Bricktown after the game, and Daniel took me, Jeff and Mom home to Mom's house, and he went to Tori's because she had to go pick up Dean's Yukon from wherever it was parked. When Daniel got to Tori's, he somehow slammed the car door on his thumb, and the nail was getting black. Tori didn't think it was broken, but it hurt like hell.

Daniel ended up calling in to work, explaining that he may have broken his thumb and was going to have it looked at. Then he went back to my sister's to get his medical insurance papers. On the way there, he lost control of his car because his thumb was swollen by this time, and hit another car.

He eventually got to Tori's and she took him to the emergency room, where he found out that his thumb was not broken, and that his insurance only covered injuries suffered at work. The ER doc poked a small hole in Daniel's thumbnail to let the blood collected behind the nail drain out (which is why it was so sore and swollen). He was given a prescription for pain meds, and took one at Tori's and fell asleep.

Meanwhile, I had no way to get back to my apartment, so Mom said I could borrow the van if I stayed over, then drive back to my apartment to take a shower, change my clothes (because I was still wearing the clothes I'd worn to the ball game), and go to school. I have to return the van this afternoon, and Daniel, hopefully, will take me home this evening so I can go to school on Tuesday.

I have a test in math, so I have to be there.

So, that was my Comedy of Errors weekend. I should have read my horrorscope first, ya think?

miss you cowboy

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Nine pairs of khaki pants! Count 'em: NINE!!!

I'm in Edmond and spent the night at Mom's house. Got some of my laundry done, because, after all, I can't hand wash everything...

Daniel has to wear khaki pants to work as part of his uniform. He washed all the ones he has last night (why he waits until he has nothing clean to wear to work, I don't know. I've never been a 23 year old man). I took them out of the dryer this morning and there were NINE PAIRS OF KHAKI PANTS!!! I'll bet my last dollar that Daniel goes out and buys a new pair when he doesn't get a chance to wash the ones he has. I do know now that Daniel wears 34 X 34, so at least I know that I can get him pants for his birthday and Christmas. I doubt very much that he'll be growing any more (He's 6'2").

Jeff's here at the library with me reading a book on how to draw anime, and just asked me when I was going to be done. I told him it better be soon or his grandmother will start calling and my bra will be ringing (no pockets in the pants i'm wearing, so guess where my cell phone is).

Better wrap it up here for now. More later after I get home... oh, wait, I better go to bed when I get home because there's school tomorrow.



That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

I'm jonesin' for some Chinese food...

I probably should head up to my mom's house, because she wants someone to have Chinese food with. The boys don't like it (though Daniel has been known to eat sushi ---ewwww!), so the only time Mom has any is when I come over.

Besides, I need to do some laundry, and her dryer works again.

Guess I better give Daniel a buzz to come get me...

wish i could have Chinese food with you cowboy

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Snxxx (that's supposed to be what snoring looks like in print?)

Stayed up too late reading the new copy of The Sun Magazine I got in the mail yesterday. But I fell asleep easier. That's always nice.

I woke up later, still dark outside, and made a disturbing discovery.

New neighbors moved into the apartment next to me that had the fire right after Easter about two weeks ago. Last night, I could hear one of them snoring away on the other side of the wall from my bedroom.

And, they snore rather loudly if I can hear it thru the damned wall!

Not like my maternal grandmother, who in her later years snored like a frieght train (maybe some sleep apena going on there, I don't know). I could be on the other end of the house sleeping, and it would be like she's sleeping in the same room.

My dad snored. Saon snored. Marc even snored when he was real little, because he got sick everytime the weather changed (thankfully, he's outgrown that at 13 years old). The only person's snoring that really bothered me was Jon's, because he insists to this day that he doesn't snore. Not even kicking him in the middle of the night got him to stop.

I probably snore, but then I can't hear myself when I'm sleeping.

The snoring doesn't really bother me, because eventually, I'll get used to it. But if I'm not living in your apartment, I don't really want to hear it.

But, if you're sleeping in my bed and you snore, I'll miss it when you're gone.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

I'll never forget this day 16 years ago

Today, sixteen years ago, was my due date with my son, Scott.

He wasn't even close to being born at this point.

My doctors at the Portsmouth Naval Hospital in Virginia were kinda freaking out, because they knew he was going to be a big baby (and he was), and they didn't want me to go past my due date.

They tried this thing called separating the membranes to induce labor (hint-- it hurts!). It didn't work. No labor started and an appointment was made for me to come back on the 28th for a stress test.

So, I had the whole long Memorial Day weekend to wait for Scott to make his appearance in the world.

That afternoon, we went to the Pungo Strawberry Festival in Virginia Beach, with silly me thinking that I'll walk myself into labor, then go to the hospital.

Yeah, right.

I freaked out the DJ from a local radio station doing a remote there when I told her (after she asked me when I was due) that I was due that day, May 25th.

We (me, Jon, Daniel and Jeff, who were 7 and 5 at the time) walked around there for a good two or three hours, and all I got was exhausted, sunburned, and strawberries.

People who knew us were surprised that I was still pregnant on Memorial Day (May 27th). "Ain't you had that baby yet?"

The 28th comes and I waddle off to the hospital to have the stress test, and Scott is fine... just late. Then the doctor decides to separate the membranes again. Not fun. And he keeps telling me that if the baby is over ten pounds, that whoever delivers him will probably do a c-section, which does not thrill me in the least! I think Jon got a little green around the gills over that one.

So I go home and wait. That night, I was talking to my dad on the phone and he said that if the baby comes June 1st, that would be great because at that time, there was no one in the family born in June.

A couple hours after that, I feel the first pains of what I hoped was labor. I had gone into false labor on May 20th, and they sent me home after an hour. I was praying "please let this baby get born now..."

After they checked me to make sure I was really in labor, I was admitted. They were just as anxious as I was to get this baby born, as he was now 4 days overdue. The longer he waited, the bigger he'd get, and then I'd really need a c-section.

At about 1 or 2 am, a nurse comes in with the epidural. I'd never had one (it wasn't even offered to me when Daniel and Jeff were born), so the nurse explained what it was, and that I had to be very still while they did it or I'd have the worst headache in the known universe.

In no time, I couldn't feel anything from the waist down. I figured that if I did have to have the c-section, I'd be all set.

Then I slept for about four hours, until I could feel the pains again. The doctor came in, broke my water, announced I was ready to deliver and wheeled me off to the delivery room with Jon hot on my heels.

About an hour later, Scott finally arrived! No c-section. He weighed in at a whopping 9 pounds and 11 1/2 ounces!

And I won't even tell you about the baby who arrived the same day with a full head of long hair...

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

I gotta quit sleeping during the day

because I won't fall asleep when I'm supposed to at night.

This afternoon, I fell asleep on the couch after taking a shower. Mind you, I had a towel on my head and pretty much nothing else. I sat for one second, and next thing I know, it's two hours later, I'm in my birthday suit, and the front door is unlocked! Anyone could have walked in!

I really felt naked at that point.

So I go and get dressed, dried my hair, went out to get the mail, hang out outside for a few minutes, then come back inside and think about making dinner.

I almost can't wait for school to start again in June.

Oh, and for the first time in his life, Scott will have to go to school on his birthday (May 29th). Because of all the snow days in December and January, they have to make them up at the end of the year, which is June 1st. Usually, school would have been over for about a week before Scott's birthday. Not this year!

He's going to be 16! And he's getting his learners permit the day after his birthday. Scott? Driving? I still get nervous driving with Jeff, and he's had his license for 5 years!

Time sure flies...


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

"All the President's Men"? or more studying? Hmmmm

Thing is, I've seen "All the President's Men" a few times. It's a good movie, and it'd be great if we had actually gotten to that point in history in my US History class this semester. But, we didn't. Besides, you know how it ends: Woodward and Bernstein risk life, limb, and career to figure out the Watergate break in, and that knowledge leads to Nixon's resignation in August of 1974.

But if I have to look at my notes for the two classes I have finals in on Monday one more second, I think I may scream.

I'll be glad to get the English Comp project from hell out of the way. I think all the grey hair I've discovered lately is tied into my worrying about it. Geez, do I have a lot of it!

I think my resolve not to dye it is starting to crumble.
=====

Last night, I felt like a complete idiot. I'm not at liberty to say why I felt that way, but I did. It's a trust thing.

You'd think I'd have learned something about that by now. But, noooooooooooooooo!
=====

I'm waiting for Daniel to make up his mind and come over here to pick me up. Both he and Jeff have to work tomorrow, so I'll be spending Mother's Day with my mom, and possibly with my two younger sons. I don't know what's planned for tomorrow. I'm always the last one to know anything in this family.
=====

When I moved here in 2002, my sister and brother in law had four dogs. Their Jack Russell terrier was hit by a car; then, Buffy got really sick and had to be put to sleep. Just recently, their husky, Nicky, had to be put down as well, mostly from old age (he was like 14 years old!). Now the only one left is Betsy, the border collie, and she's moping around because she misses Nicky. Tori and Dean don't know if they're going to get any more animals in the event that Betsy goes on to her great reward (she's still pretty healthy, but she's no puppy, either).

I'd like to have a cat, but the $200 non refundable pet deposit the apartment complex requires is keeping me from it. Right now, I'm just trying to take care of me. I don't know if I can take care of a cat, too. But, having a purring and playful ball of fluff is comforting.

There'll be plenty of time for that, I guess.
=====

I hope all you moms, grandmas, stepmoms, adoptive moms and foster moms have a wonderful Mother's Day!



That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Dari's Friday Flashback #1

Since my childhood was well more than 10 years ago, I thought I'd play along.

And, since Mother's Day is this weekend, I'll start off with this:

For as long as I could remember, my dad always got my mom a card and a gift for Mother's Day. He did it for other special occasions, too, and he did it every time without fail. Sometimes, the cards were funny, or the gift was meant to represent some inside joke between the two of them, or something to just let her know that he appreciated her a lot.

My parents were not the kind to show affection in front of their kids. That's just the way they were. It was part of their upbringing. So when Dad did peck Mom on the cheek for something, my sister and I were surprised.

Dad gave Mom Mother's Day gifts long after we grew up and moved away. Mom didn't stop being a mom when we went out on our own, after all.

My dad died on October 8, 1999. The first Mother's Day after that, when there wasn't the usual card at Mom's place at the table, was the first real time since he died that she cried.

A couple months later, Mom put the house we grew up in on the market, and when it was sold, moved here to Oklahoma.

And I'm sure she thinks about Dad everyday. I know I do.
=====

If you want to play along, click the picture above. If for some reason I didn't do the HTML crap correctly, click here.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

For all moms, and those who love us

I got this from a friend on myspace who's also a mom. I thought instead of passing it along to all the rock bands and college students I have on my myspace list, I'd post it here for everyone to read. If you feel the need to pass it along to your mom, or a mom you know, or if you're a mom, then feel free...

=======



This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here." Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

(And for those of us who sit in a hospital room with their grown son, because he asked you to, after an emergency appendectomy, and because "sometimes, a man just needs his mama.")

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat. For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."


This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.


This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers who have lost a child, and had to deal with the pain every morning, knowing that they can't go and wake their child up fifteen times, saying, "You're going to be late!"

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.



This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?



The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.

For all of us.

Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.



Tell them every day that we love them.

And pray.

Please pass along to all the Moms in your life.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Well, my weekend included a lot more than doing my laundry and washing my car...

That is to say, I did get the laundry done. The car will just have to wait. Again.

Friday, Scott had his Confirmation. It was the longest Mass I had been to in a long time. The Archbishop of OKC was there officiating, and he tended to draw his speech out. The Irish priests in the parish I grew up in did the same thing, but I think they did it just so we could understand them with their heavy accents.

Ironically, the parish here (or rather in Edmond) and the one I grew up in have the same name. Maybe there are a lot of Catholic churches named that.

Anyway, the Mass was three hours long!

Compared to the Mass for Amalia's First Holy Communion Sunday morning (about an hour). Amalia looked so cute in her white dress, tights, shoes, and the veil (I think Tori made it, I didn't think to ask). Afterwards, we went to TGIFriday's near Quail Springs Mall for lunch.

Then I had to wait for Daniel to get home from work to bring me back to my apartment. And he kept telling me, "give me an hour" (half hour; in a while, etc). I finally got here about an hour ago. Now I have to go to bed so I can be bright tailed and bushy eyed for school tomorrow (um, later this morning).


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

"Gettin' Busy"

It's sad that simple, innocent phrases like "gettin' busy" have such, um, dubious connotations these days.

To most people of a certain age (mine, 43), it means you're getting busy doing something, like homework, or cleaning out the garage.

To a lot of people I know, it means having sex.

Did I miss the transition between what I think and what everyone under 25 thinks? Because somewhere between my separation/divorce and starting at Rose State, it took on a whole new meaning. So I missed something somewhere down the line.

My dad liked to say "getting down to brass tacks". To him, it meant get busy and get things done. Or else.

Now I need to go finish up something, so I'm going to get busy doing that.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Hey, Mom... ya wanna couch? It's free...

Jeff calls me this afternoon to ask me the question that is the title of this post. I told him, yes! I'd take it if he could find a way to get it here to my apartment.

So, thinking nothing more about it, I went on about my business... doing homework, reading all the uncomprehensible stuff going on in Darfur that is going to be part of a group project in my English Comp class, and baking chocolate chip cookies.

Then, I heard someone using the doorknocker to knock on the door... it was Jeff. He and Daniel had borrowed their grandmother's van to get this big blue couch to my apartment. It barely fit in the back enough to close the tailgate (2nd and 3rd row seats removed, of course).

And the damn thing was heavy! Turns out that it has two recliners at each end, a fold down "table" in the middle, and, amazingly enough, a drawer under the center seat! It took the boys about 1/2 an hour to figure out how to get it inside my apartment, because it appeared to look like the doorway wasn't wide enough. But, they got it inside, and now all I need is a real bed.

That, however, I will gladly shell out money for. A used mattress? Ewwwww!


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Happy Easter...

Daniel finally came to fetch me about 20 minutes after the last post.

I dragged the laptop to Mom's, and I can't even get a wireless signal there. So I messed around on MS Word 07 and watched a couple of old cartoons on DVD that my sister had left there.

Easter was good. Joe is talking better now, but he's still not going to be able to go to Pre-K in the fall because he's still not completely potty trained. He's just now, at just past his 4th birthday, grasping the concept.

Jeff, Scott and Marc were climbing trees and generally goofing off. Daniel had to work :(

Dean brought home yet another new computer a few weeks ago. He got a Mac! I swear that man collects computers like I collect pens. And I have a lot of pens... but the draft of this post is being written on it, after I asked to have the parental controls removed because Google is blocked.

Hope your holiday was grand...

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Oh that noise!

It's been so noisy here lately. This morning for what seemed like forever, but in reality lasted about an hour, there was a van out in the parking lot making the loudest noise! It was from a drain cleaning service, and the machines they used were almost deafening. I almost wished I had earplugs!

Great, my one day every two weeks I get to stay home and this is what I have to deal with.

I have to get out of this cranky/crabby/moody deep blue funk... or else I'll be impossible to live with. And since it's just me... well, you get the idea.

And, spending Easter with the family... I gotta be in a good mood for that! I'm going over to Mom's sometime tomorrow (whenever Daniel gets his butt outta the bed, that is). I'll probably have to run errands for her. I don't mind, though. After all, it's my mom...

The only thing that bugs me is that it might snow Sunday. I've heard of a white Christmas, but never a white Easter...

Go fig...



That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

The Post wherein Stef declares that she's not into all that April Fool's crap

Why restrict it to April 1st? People become fools, or are made fools of, on any one of the other 364 days of the year.

So don't even start the April Fool's crap with me.

The only thing I ever did on April 1st (in 1986) was sign Jeff's birth certificate. And that was only after we went round and round with the Orange County, California vital statisics folks about giving Jeff a middle name. Apparently, at that time (and maybe now for all I know), California requires that all children born in the state must have a middle name. I wasn't planning on giving Jeff one because Jon and I couldn't agree on one. But, since he HAD to have one, I gave him my name --or rather, the masculine version of it-- as a middle name. So, this is how my second son became Jeffrey Stephen instead of Jeffrey NMN (no middle name).

And that's no April Fool's joke... and, NO, I'm not posting Jeff's birth certificate as proof. You'll just have to take my word for it.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Well, it IS true

I'm a pear. In Italian and Spanish, it's "pera".

My family is Italian, and that's my last name.

It's always fascinated me about the origins of people's names. I have a friend who has a French surname that means "dear friend". That's not what he said it meant, but I took enough French in high school to figure it out.

My aunt (my dad's sister, who is 88 years old) has a coat of arms for our family name that she got years and years ago. She had it the last time I visited her home in San Francisco in the mid 1980's (I think Daniel was 6 months old at the time).

I fought hard to have my name restored to me when Jon and I divorced. If I ever get married again, I'm not changing it. I might hyphenate it with the last name of the guy I get hitched to, but I won't change it, so it will be Pera-(fill in the blank).

I won't make it my middle name, like my sister did. I have kinda grown fond of my middle name, thanks, after 43 years.

Maybe I'll just live in sin with some guy... naaah... that would put my mother into orbit. She wasn't exactly thrilled when Saon and I lived together for all of 4 months five years ago.

I was going to expound on that previous paragraph (the "living in sin" part), but I think I'll save it for another post.

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

How to make an ex-boyfriend jealous without even trying

This has a lot to do with my voice mail and a little bit of (unintentional) payback.

Saon called me on Saturday while I was out running errands. He left a message implying that he was more than a little pissed off about something in my outgoing message.

Specifically, the word "we".

Part of the outgoing message says: "you have reached (phone number). We are not available to take your call..."

I recorded it that way on purpose. It's not meant to make anyone mad.

So I called Saon back and the first thing he asks me is "Who is we?"

I told him there is no we, that I recorded it that way on purpose. There is no other specific person that "we" refers to.

We chit chat for a minute or two, then he says he has to go, and that he'll call me back in half an hour.

I hang up, give him an hour, because I know he's not going to call back. Then I go out and finish my errands. If he calls back, he calls back.

Of course, he didn't call back, and that's just fine by me. Does he think I'm going to sit by the phone, or alter my plans for the day waiting for him? If he does think that, he's very much mistaken.

The funny thing is, I almost asked one of my two older sons, or one of my male friends, to record that message for me. That I know would have sent Saon into orbit if I had done that.

He's shacking up with some chick, so why in the hell is he all bent out shape over the word "we" in my outgoing message?

And that, dear readers, is how to make an ex-boyfriend jealous without really trying.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

What part of "Don't call me in the middle of the night" didn't he understand?

If you had spoken to me around midnight, I wouldn't have been in such a great mood. For once, I fell right asleep after I went to bed.

Then Saon ruined it all.

Shortly before midnight, the phone rings. Thinking it might be family, I got out of bed and went into the living room to get the phone.

When I saw the number on caller ID, I didn't even bother to answer.

I told him the last time I spoke with him that because of my school schedule, I won't be taking calls at all hours of the day and night. I know that he's driving the cab now and all hours of the day and night are his working hours, but I need to get a lot of rest if I'm going to have a fighting chance of doing well in my classes.

He didn't leave a message either. So, if he's pissed that I didn't answer, too f'n bad.

Now, I'm all dragged out, everything hurts (or it seems like it does), and all I want to do when I get home is take a nap.

Unless someone happens to drop by... then I'll take a nap.
===

We finally did my birthday dinner on Saturday. I wanted to go to the Texas Roadhouse, but when we got there, there had been a fire in the restaurant, and they were closed for a while so they could clean up.

When asked my second choice, I just said Outback, for lack of anywhere else to go. And, off we went.

And it was very nice. Amalia gave me a bracelet she made with my name on it. Mom gave me money, and Daniel gave me a gift card from WalMart. Jeff had already bought me a TV. Tori and Dean were going to get me something else for the house. Probably a coffeemaker.

I could use a couch and a real bed, though. Even more than a coffeemaker.
===

I might be able to actually pay for my books and tuition soon. I finally got a copy of my 2005 return in the mail on Saturday, and I hotfooted it over to the Financial Aid office at school this morning. I should know something within two weeks.

Hell, I've waited all this time, two more weeks won't kill me.


Talk soon?


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--