Can I Get Some Quiet Up in This Crib?

Some BS

Yesterday when I visited with Max he was not awake. Once again. I tried to get him to wake up by rubbing his belly and saying in a harsh tones, "Max. Wake up. Max, you wake up!" I called bullshit with that guy. I said in a whisper, so I wouldn't wake any of the other babies up or use inappropriate language in the NICU and get myself kicked out- I said, "Max this is some B.S. because you are never awake when I come see you. And it't not like you have to stay awake for a long time because I'm only in here a half an hour. A half an hour of your life a week, Max. Wake the f*&k up." He just made little faces and went back to sleep. I stopped short of really trying to wake the guy up because he probably needs his baby sleep in order to get bigger and fatter so he can come home and chill with me when I am recovering from surgery. Of course, as soon as my mom and dad went he in woke up. Mais bien sûr.

Good News #1: I think the Big Guy may be closing in on hobby. I don't want to jinx it by saying what it is. But it could keep him a little busy.

Good News #2: The Big Guy is getting a DVR! Not because he wants one, but because with the new TV he bought his old DirectTV box isn't compatible. Finally.

Good News #3: Kristen's husband came over and looked and my pool and said, "It's not that bad." And said he could get a filter and get the pool up and going AND he would install and it would only take like ten minutes! Definitely this week's hero.

Funny

The Nine Circles of Adjunct Hell

Randi Unadopted Gets Herself Stuck

Last night when Randi Unadopted fell off or got off the bed, she got herself stuck in between the chair and the bed. Stuck long enough to wake me up with the sound of the chair scrapping on the floor. Long enough for me to figure out what that noise was. Long enough for me to grab the camera and to film her stuck between the chair and the bed. One of the funniest things she's done in a while.

Pride and Prejudice Book Review

Here's what I read when I read Pride and Prejudice:

The Misses Bennets travel to M_______ to play whist and talk and gossip with Misters B__ and W_____. Mr. Darcy shows up wearing an ugly sweater his mother made him wear and it takes one of the Misses Bennets four of six videos in the A&E Movie Version to realize that Hugh Grant is not the one she wants, but Mr. Darcy in his ugly sweater. Then Jack Reacher punches them all in the face.

Which is why I didn't get past page 146 and I am now speeding through the movie version on video, which I had to borrow from the school library along with the VCR in my room because who has a VCR any more, because Sara assures me that it is just like the book and no one will know that I could not finish it because I was not aware that high school drama existed in the Regency area.

Last night at 3:00am the crow (raven) mobsters held a conference/killing session somewhere in the neighborhood. They squawked and squawked until I let Randi and Earl out hoping that they would scare them away so that I could go back to sleep. The crow mobsters were not intimidated. They obviously were not done handing out their rogue justice. I even got up to make sure that PDub wasn't the recipient of their malicious activities.

Papa

The Big Guy finally got to hold Baby Max (weighing in at a whopping 4lbs!) My mom said that the Big Guy says that Max can have whatever he wants. I'm in agreement. I'm sure there's gonna be a day when me and Maximus are at Target and we will not be in agreement and he will show his displeasure in a violent and embarrassing manner and I will respond in a manner that will not be my Best Moment, but right now- he can have whatever he wants because he is awesome.

In other news I have to go to the cardiologist. Today I went to my doctor for my pre-op EKG. The doctor said you don't have any heart problems right? And I said no, like when medical people ask could you be pregnant? And you say oh no, Unmarried Me? Are you implying that I'm a Filthy Whore? No. No way. Absolutely not. Well as it turns out I do have heart problems. My heart flutters. I knew this. When I got back from France I went to the doctor for it and I said, "Doctor, my heart flutters." And the doctor put me on a 24 hour heart monitor and then proceeded to tell me that I was full of shit and imagining things because nothing happened. Until today. When I needed my heart to be spectacular. It was not. It fluttered. And fluttered so gently that I didn't even notice but Mr. EKG did. (Fuck Mr. EKG.) Mr. EKG stripped me and my heart flutters naked and because of that I have to go to the cardiologist before they will officially give the green light to my surgery. And if they don't give the green light to my surgery I am going to break down into fit of tears that will be legendary. Because I can't take it any more. Because it's nice outside and I want to go for a fucking walk. Because one day me and Max need to go to Target, so he can be embarrassing and I can't do that if I can't stand up long enough to shop in Target.

I'd be lying if I said today had been a good day. It started out ok. I rode the Spinner bike. I started to clean the kitchen and then my back started to hurt and I had to sit down. And then I cried because it wouldn't stop hurting. And then I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to finish cleaning as I wanted, so I spent the next 5 hours doing five minutes of work and then sitting down for 30-40 minutes which, in case your wondering, is not the most effective method for cleaning your house.

Then the wind shut my bedroom door with Randi Unadopted inside. Effectively locked in. Caged. Alone. Separated from her brother and Puppy Clark. Helpless. Lucky for me she hadn't chewed anything up by the time I figured out it was too quiet and some kind of Mischief had to be happening. She sure was happy to see me.

Bittersweet

I'm not sure if the Big Guy is more saddened by this lastest chapter in his life ending or by the fact that he won't be getting an iPad2.

Public Defenders turn to iPad for complete digital case management.

Die Trying eBook Review

It's a funny thing coincidences. Last Friday the Victorville courthouse was shut down because of some protests by some right wing crazies who don't think they're subject to the laws of the USA. (Read the Daily Press article here.) The Big Guy was there. He said it was exciting and it'll be even more exciting in June when they come back. He promises he'll be front row and center for everything. I'll report back.

Then, on 60 Minutes on Sunday they had a feature about Sovereign Citizens. See that here.

And then Jack Reacher gets kidnapped by a similar group of wingnuts? Who would have the audacity to kidnap Jack Reacher? Militia men. Granted they didn't actually want to kidnap him; he was an innocent bystander helping out a lady with crutches when they kidnapped her. As an FBI agent, she's pretty hardcore herself and kills a lady by knocking her out with her crutch. Jack Reacher continues to be a man-whore in the Montana wilderness. But the most amazing aspect of this book is Jack Reacher gets scared. Terrified. Panicked. Screams out for an hour. Cries. What does that to Jack Reacher? Being trapped in a mine shaft with rats crawling over him.

Overall, a good read. Jack Reacher shoots some people in the head. He knocks in some skulls. He says, as only Jack Reacher could, "Well if he were innocent I wouldn't kill him would I?" Exactly. Because Jack Reacher doesn't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. God, I love that man.

Finally!

Here's what me and Max discussed today as I held him:

• what we were going to do this summer when we are chilling together since I won't be able to move and he can't move since he's a baby
• how he is not going to go to school in Victorville
• what classes he will be enrolled in as a Freshman (French, duh)
• how he has the best blankets and quilts in all the NICU
• why he's always asleep when I come to see him

He's taking some "oil" supplements to his formula so he'll gain weight faster, which is why I bought him some muscle shirts so he could show off his guns. The doctor told my sister maybe he could come home in four weeks, since technically he should still be in my sister's belly. He is doing very well, but still can't drink out of a bottle. He's pretty awesome.

Classin' It Up

My most recent and final dinner date with my dad this week degenerated into my Googling "hobbies," then listing all of the hobbies I thought might be interesting to him: sleeping, hydroponics (supplemental income-thought Earl could help him get started), then ended with, "Dad, you're not listening to me!" And him responding, "You're right, I'm not. Let's go."

Bassinet

Max has moved to the bassinet, which means now he can wear clothes!

The tube in his nose is his feeding tube because he's still too little to coordinate the sucking, swallowing and breathing at the same time required for a bottle.

The Courtesy Reach

My mom's gone to the beach this week. This should not be taken as a sign that my mom is doing anything related to relaxing. My mother does not relax. She had the entire car filled up with fabric and she has a sewing machine, and iron that are specifically dedicated to the motor home, so she is surely whipping up more receiving blankets and quilts and beanies than Max could possibly wear in his lifetime and the Snickerdoodle is mostly likely sore in the ear from listening to her chatter.

This has left my dad home alone. When left to his own devices the Big Guy enjoys food that no human willingly likes to eat: HomeTown Buffet and Bad Chinese Buffet. Since my mom refuses to go to these places, my dad is taking me on a series of dates this week. I'm trying to avoid HomeTown Buffet, so Sunday we had Thai food and today we tried out the BBQ place across from my house. (If they had their liquor license and if I could walk, I would so put on Gretchen's cowboy boots walk the mile to the bar to spend some quality time drinking something.) When me and my daddy go to dinner I always do the Courtesy Reach and say something like, "oh Big Guy, let me see if I have cash," and then while I fiddle around in the general area of my purse looking for my wallet he pays. It's a well choreographed dance.

Conversations with my dad center around these topics: Why he doesn't have a DVR and whether he has found a hobby yet. The Big Guy does not seem to understand the implicit threat to his person if he doesn't find a hobby before he retires. He seems to think my mother is going to be happy being with him "31," as he puts it. (31 is exactly what it sounds like 24/7.) I, on the other hand, understand that if he doesn't find something to do before he retires I could very well become a child of divorce. Sunday we came up with these things for him to do:

1. Go to the Donut Shop with all the other guys who don't have hobbies and eat donuts.
2. Go to Costco and eat a Costco Dog.

He really refuses to entertain any other possible hobbies. He doesn't seem to get it. He also doesn't understand the concept of the DVR, which I have explained many, many times.

I also asked him if he'd look into whether the lessons I create for my classes are my intellecutal property or the school district's. I'm very concerned about this in case I discover the secret to second language acquisition. And I'm talking the secret that would make Stephen Krashen's i + 1 look like a cave painting. Of course he didn't have an answer. That guy never has an answer for a legal question and don't think I'm not going to say that at his retirement party.

I did not get to hold Max this week because after he gained 50 grams he also took a couple of big dumps, so it wasn't good enough. I told him I was disappointed and expected better next week. He never has his eyes open when I'm there. Pretty much all he does when I'm there is snuggle into my sister's boob. Whatever. I got boobs too.

Giving Grandma a high five when she got to hold him.

Mr. Darcy or Jack Reacher

I think you know who I chose when my LA County Library Card backed me into it's "you only have 96 hours to decide if you want this book" corner. With book club (hosted by me) only two weeks away, I took the type of calculated chance that would make Jack Reacher proud. If only I knew that Mr. Darcy was going to sock someone in the face during the next game of whist, I might be more interested in the current chapter's endless drivel.

Voilà Book Review

It is my professional opinion that this textbook ruins my weekend every week and makes my blood boil. I hate it. I hate it with a passion that exceeds that I have for Eat Pray Love. How can one possibly conceive teaching all the faire expressions, ce, cette, ces, jouer à/de, avoir envie de (but not any other fucking avoir expressions), faire du/de, de l', then à pied, and the god damn fucking passé composé, but only for the verbs recontrer and gagner (as if those are the two most important verbs to know in the passé composé!!) and some faux amis ALL ON THE SAME THREE PAGES???

Let me just clue those of you who aren't French teachers in: YOU CAN'T!! You can't teach all that on the same three pages. None of that shit even goes together. This might be tolerable for one chapter, but in the last chapter is was l'âge, la place des adverbes, combien de, de, de+definite article and chez/habiter à which is why I need to take a deep breath. Figure out some key concepts and then ditch this book before I punch someone in the face.

Je me méfie....

I saw PDubs new BFF again yesterday afternoon chilling next to the pool. Then I remembered that shortly after the last time some crows were hanging out at the duck pool I found a carcass in the pool, so I have counseled PDub to be cautious around these guys in case they are trying to win her over just to set her up for a murder that the mafia is planning. I do not want PDub to be the patsy-duck for the crow mafia. Though, I wouldn't mind if I had to invite CSI Nick Stokes back out again.

Even Silence Has an End eBook Review

This book was hard to read. It wasn't James Joyce or William Faulkner difficult; it was just the subject matter. Ingrid Betancourt recounts her six years in which she was held captive by the FARC guerillas in Columbia. The memoir begins with an escape attempt and then backtracks to when she was actually taken. As you would expect, it's no trip to Club Med. It's absolutely incredible the stories that she recounts marching across the jungle; the animals and insects that threaten her; the stories of the other hostages and the feuds that go on between them; the lack of medical care when she was seriously sick. I found myself thinking, geez another failed attempt at an escape? Isn't she going to get out already? Then I reminded myself that this wasn't some made up event and that this woman actually lived this for six years. After the first 100 pages everything is in chronological and titled by month and years and as I was reading I found myself remembering where I was during that time while she was marching through the jungle. The book ends abruptly with her rescue by the Columbian army and I was a bit disappointed. I was interested to know about her recovery after as well. Was she in the hospital? What did the doctors say about her condition? Overall a worthwhile read.

I'm glad I finished it before my LA County Library Card takes it back tomorrow.

Scary Friends

This morning while I was spending some quality time picking up the damn disaster that seems to always be my house, a crow (raven) swooped into the backyard next to PDub. I saw it come in for the landing and immediately I thought it had come to kidnap PDub. Or kill PDub. Or hump her for some kind of cross-species crow porn movie. But no. Said crow (raven) landed right next to her and they spent a couple of moments drinking amicably out of her pool together, then it found some unknown alive thing to eat. I had to take the pictures of it through the screen door because I wasn't sure if it was a decoy sent by the crow (raven) mafia to lure me out of my house because I am not convinced the crows (ravens) won't eat me.

Perhaps PDub has a friend!

Moving On Up

Little Max got an upgrade in his real estate property and moved to the "other side" of the NICU yesterday. This is where the "big babies" get to go and it means that he'll soon be chilling in a topless incubator hopefully regulating his own temperature as if he could do it all along.

I.Q.

Max is doing so well he will surely have discovered the cure for cancer by the time I see him on Saturday. I, on the other hand, forgot about Earl's dairy habit and walked into the kitchen only to find Earl muzzle deep in my tub of sour cream.