With Thanksgiving gone, it's now time embrace Christmas with abandon. I started early on Tuesday by asking my dad, if due to recent events, the amount they were willing to spend on me for Christmas has been increased by 50%. The response was encouraging. Excited about my possible Christmas windfall, I put in my order for a Vitamix. Or really half a Vitamix because I do realize that it is an expensive present to ask for. Everyone has a Vitamix. Kristen. Gretchen. I don't have a Vitamix because I don't have a husband and I figured I could get the parentals to chip in so I could be cool. In response to my email, Santa replied that he could pay for the shipping and tax. Sometimes Santa just likes to be difficult.
Yesterday, on what was supposed to be my rest day, my mother and Max face-timed at 8:00am with a desperate plea. There was a lot of gesturing towards the door and the word "walk" and my mother looking exhausted, so I got dressed and drove over to take Max for a walk. When we got to the desert I let Max out so he could walk. After being scared by a group of guys on motorcycles he decided he was more interested in the buckle on the seat. Hell if I was going to stand in the desert with him playing with a buckle. It was going to ruin my laptime, so I just pushed the stroller faster and we spent a large chunk of our part in the desert with him running after me whining. He slept the rest of the way home when we were on the street. I thought it was pretty dang funny. But Christ almighty pushing that stroller is hard work, especially in the desert, which is why I am now on a mission to get Santa to purchase us a Bob Stroller so me and Max can walk out in the desert. I've had this idea for a while and I've been doing due diligence on Craigslist to find one and doing my homework and mostly I've come up with Max would love it. I have dubbed this "The Gift for Everyone" because I get exercise, Max gets out of the house and my parents get Max out of the house. When we got back from our walk, I mentioned to Santa that Max thought that this would be a fabulous gift. It appears there is some work for me to do and involves teaching Max to say "Grandpa, new stroller, please."
(Pictures to come- I've run out of picture space. WTF? I need to figure out what I want to do.)
Friday, November 23, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Babysitting
This week has been, once again, quite hectic. It's a good thing I got a car that I enjoy driving so much with all of the driving I've done. Thursday I went to a meeting in Riverside where I had to seriously choose my attitude or I would have tossed a table and walked out making an absolute fool of myself. I did not. I sat very quiet seething inside and trying not to think that I wasn't in my classroom with kids for that bunch of bullshit. After, I took myself to lunch at the bar.
Then I drove to San Clemente where I picked up Max, the 19 month old who travels with more luggage than a Real Housewife. We drove back to the desert with little ado and when we got to my house for our first sleepover with a memory there was a large conversation in which the only words I could make out were "Grandma...back...car" with a large amount of gesturing towards the car. Luckily Max is pretty easy to put to sleep and was fast asleep within a few moments. Then I let the Pack in and told them that if they made any noise at all I would shoot them. (They didn't believe me because I don't have a gun.)
Friday Max accompanied me to school where is was the beau of the ball. High school is the best place to find a babysitter because there's so many kids. Every time he walked away from me there were at least five kids fighting over who was going to play with him. We had a minor hiccup when the Cookie Monster doll we stole from Gretchen's prop room lost his eyes on our way to visit Jessica. Jenny tried to perform Cookie Monster ocular surgery in the field, but it was unsuccessful and I had to keep Cookie's eyes in my pocket. Then an even bigger catastrophe befell us when we were returning from looking at the cows- Cookie was abandonèd somewhere between the cows and my room. I sent five kids out to look for him, but he was lost. We consoled ourselves with goldfish. All was not lost because Jessica found him hanging out in the A-6 lost and found and returned him after school. It was a mostly fabulous day because Max was so happy, though 6th period he was starting to lose it alternately walking up to kids and screaming and laying on the floor saying, "nite-nite?" We came home as soon as we could and he was asleep before I even shut the door.
Then began the slow decline of the evening. His father came and swung him around and he threw up. Then he threw up again in the bedroom and his father insisted he have a bottle. Then his father left and me and Jessica and Sara were allowed to continue our evening when Max spewed forth an amount of baby barf that was truly impressive for such a little person. I quickly picked up the baby barf volcano and put him in the bath and Sara, in a sign of true, true friendship, cleaned up and Jessica swiffered.
We got the baby sleep fairly easily, but our day started again at 5 am when he woke up cranky and whiney and it stayed that way all day. He didn't even enjoy meeting Randi and Earl. (Possibly because Earl tried to lick off his ear.) Mostly Randi and Earl were like what the fuck is that?? The morning continued fantastically with another episode of barfing and another impromptu bath and then a monster nap in which I tried to catch up on some tv. Yes, there were tons of other things I could have been doing: paying bills, seeing about refinancing, blogging, reading, but I thought fuck it. This is my first day of vacation and I'm going to lay here and watch TV. Once Max woke up, I could only stand about an hour before I packed up all of his stuff to take him back to my mom's thinking maybe he was just tired of me and would want to play on his slide until my parents came home. My mom and dad were already home and he tried to act like I hadn't fed or given him anything to drink at all. Then he proceeded to be cranky and whiney with them.
When I finally got home I took a bath with Max's bath toys.
Then I drove to San Clemente where I picked up Max, the 19 month old who travels with more luggage than a Real Housewife. We drove back to the desert with little ado and when we got to my house for our first sleepover with a memory there was a large conversation in which the only words I could make out were "Grandma...back...car" with a large amount of gesturing towards the car. Luckily Max is pretty easy to put to sleep and was fast asleep within a few moments. Then I let the Pack in and told them that if they made any noise at all I would shoot them. (They didn't believe me because I don't have a gun.)
Friday Max accompanied me to school where is was the beau of the ball. High school is the best place to find a babysitter because there's so many kids. Every time he walked away from me there were at least five kids fighting over who was going to play with him. We had a minor hiccup when the Cookie Monster doll we stole from Gretchen's prop room lost his eyes on our way to visit Jessica. Jenny tried to perform Cookie Monster ocular surgery in the field, but it was unsuccessful and I had to keep Cookie's eyes in my pocket. Then an even bigger catastrophe befell us when we were returning from looking at the cows- Cookie was abandonèd somewhere between the cows and my room. I sent five kids out to look for him, but he was lost. We consoled ourselves with goldfish. All was not lost because Jessica found him hanging out in the A-6 lost and found and returned him after school. It was a mostly fabulous day because Max was so happy, though 6th period he was starting to lose it alternately walking up to kids and screaming and laying on the floor saying, "nite-nite?" We came home as soon as we could and he was asleep before I even shut the door.
Then began the slow decline of the evening. His father came and swung him around and he threw up. Then he threw up again in the bedroom and his father insisted he have a bottle. Then his father left and me and Jessica and Sara were allowed to continue our evening when Max spewed forth an amount of baby barf that was truly impressive for such a little person. I quickly picked up the baby barf volcano and put him in the bath and Sara, in a sign of true, true friendship, cleaned up and Jessica swiffered.
"Baby barf- still a fan of the condom" Sara, Friday evening
We got the baby sleep fairly easily, but our day started again at 5 am when he woke up cranky and whiney and it stayed that way all day. He didn't even enjoy meeting Randi and Earl. (Possibly because Earl tried to lick off his ear.) Mostly Randi and Earl were like what the fuck is that?? The morning continued fantastically with another episode of barfing and another impromptu bath and then a monster nap in which I tried to catch up on some tv. Yes, there were tons of other things I could have been doing: paying bills, seeing about refinancing, blogging, reading, but I thought fuck it. This is my first day of vacation and I'm going to lay here and watch TV. Once Max woke up, I could only stand about an hour before I packed up all of his stuff to take him back to my mom's thinking maybe he was just tired of me and would want to play on his slide until my parents came home. My mom and dad were already home and he tried to act like I hadn't fed or given him anything to drink at all. Then he proceeded to be cranky and whiney with them.
When I finally got home I took a bath with Max's bath toys.
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| Not even everything because I had picked up a bag the day before |
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| breakfast and grading |
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| doing laundry with the cleaning lady |
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| Photo that proves we were FINE |
Monday, November 12, 2012
Hiking
Today Bill, Sara and I took the my new super car to Joshua Tree National Park for some hiking. We had decided on this plan yesterday on our walk. Since I now have a super fuel economy vehicle our travelling option have opened up. I'll drive anywhere. This was actually the first time anyone other than Max had ridden in the back and Bill reported that it was fabulous and that he was shortly going to be purchasing his own Camry because he wants to be me. We spent much time making fun of each other because, well, that's what we do.
Sara and I have a year pass to Joshua Tree because that's the kind of gals we are. We both took along our chapstick in case we saw some marines. When Bill and I hiked San Jacinto in 2007 we saw marines. It was undoubtedly the best moment of the hike. There were so many of them. You never know when you're going to run into a pack of marines.
In any case today's hike was sans marines, but avec a tarantula. Sara screamed and I started to panic thinking it was a snake because we were in a canyon and one time I saw the biggest snake I have ever seen in a canyon, but turns out it was just a tarantula. He did not try to eat us, but Sara was nearly in tears. This was the second tarantula me and Sara had seen in a week because last week we saw one when we were walking. I'm not a fan of the tarantula, but I find them much less scary than the snake which should be banned from Earth.
Sara and I have a year pass to Joshua Tree because that's the kind of gals we are. We both took along our chapstick in case we saw some marines. When Bill and I hiked San Jacinto in 2007 we saw marines. It was undoubtedly the best moment of the hike. There were so many of them. You never know when you're going to run into a pack of marines.
In any case today's hike was sans marines, but avec a tarantula. Sara screamed and I started to panic thinking it was a snake because we were in a canyon and one time I saw the biggest snake I have ever seen in a canyon, but turns out it was just a tarantula. He did not try to eat us, but Sara was nearly in tears. This was the second tarantula me and Sara had seen in a week because last week we saw one when we were walking. I'm not a fan of the tarantula, but I find them much less scary than the snake which should be banned from Earth.
We knew we couldn't do the whole out and back trail so we set the timer for 1.5 hours at which time we dutifully turned around and then missed the trail and then had to scramble over some rocks and then we decided to "backtrack" where we found where we had gone wrong and where the trail had been clearly marked for people who were actually paying attention.
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| They couldn't have made it more obvious if they'd said, "This way morons." |
Then we came home, spending a fair amount of time making fun of each other because that is what we do. And despite scrambling over rocks I feel pretty damn good, which is fabulous because tomorrow I have to go to jury duty in fucking Barstow. Barstow!! I'm so annoyed, but I have these things going for me: 1) I still know way more than the average juror about voir dire because of my participation in the "How to Pick a Winning Jury" powerpoint (fuck, I still have the powerpoint and maybe I could offer it to the lawyers in case they weren't able to attend the state bar conference 2) my dad knows everyone in Barstow because he worked there from the beginning of time until he retired.
Weekend
Here in the Town of Fucking Nonsense where I live at the corner of Crazy and Ridiculous there is a Ridiculous Indicator much like the fire hazard level. The default level is "Probably you shouldn't make a plan because if you do it will get fucked up at the last minute" and then goes up to full blown "drop everything" crisis mode. A typical weekend will involve all levels. Friday, the level was just at its default normal and so Sara and Jessica came over for dinner and basketball. Jessica, a hardcore Lakers fan, has Dish network and therefore is no longer able to view Lakers games. Sara and I do not have Dish network and so Jessica is moving in on game days. Friends don't let friends renew Dish. No Lakers and no David Tutera?? No brainer. On Fridays after some wine we also usually play fuck with Randi and Earl because Randi and Earl are easy to mess around with. They don't give a crap if you are knocking them over, sitting on them, poking their head or anything else normal dogs would mind. They particularly enjoy being used as pillows.
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| In heaven |
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| No Sara is not strangling her, just wrapping the Lakers scarf around her. |
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| In heaven, again. |
On Saturday, the Crazy indicator still measuring at default level, Max and I did a trial run of him staying here. We went to Target and bought a new toy and then we had lunch and he threw his turkey on the floor. We watched Sesame Street and he took a mini-nap and then woke up freaking hysterical because he didn't know where he was. Then we watched more Sesame Street. I told my dad that watching him here is easier because it's much smaller. Less running around. My baby proofing the house had neglected to remove four lighters from baby height. They have since been removed.
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| Down dog with down dog |
Then we got caught up on TV and then I went to Sara's for dinner and basketball. Today, we're going to go to Joshua Tree. Hopefully that won't get fucked up.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Blood
The day before yesterday I woke up and there was blood on the bed. It was not from me. Here is the exact conversation I had:
Me: (to Clark) I can't look at you because I'm going to start crying.
Clark:
Me: (to Clark) Really, don't look at me because I will start crying and I haven't cried one day this week.
Clark:
Me: (to Clark) Please (sob) don't (sob) die! (sob).
So despite my super busy week of furnishing a mini-toddler room/nursery in anticipation of over night stays this week while my parents celebrate their anniversary, baby- proofing the house for the same reason, scheduling the handymen to come and fix the leaking washer and to put together the crib, I had to take one Puppy Clark to the vet this afternoon so I would know if he was knocking at death's door.
Clark hasn't been in a car since me and him and Sarah Warah moved in a whirlwind day from our ghetto house in Victorville to a nicer house in Apple Valley when I came home and found the notice on the door saying that the ghetto house in Victorville was going to be auctioned off because the owners were in foreclosure. Today though, I dutifully came home did a little switcher-oonie with the dogs so Randi and Earl had no idea Clark and I were off for an adventure and then put Clark in the car where I covered everything up with blankets so his fur wouldn't get on anything. Clark is not a very relaxed dog and he was on high high alert for several hours. He was on particular high alert when they used the catheter to get a urine sample. Give me 40 sophomores and the passé composé any day over that. Two hours and $99 later we found out that there is nothing wrong with Clark. He's fine. He looks great for 13 years old. Fabulous.
In other great news I sold my road bike to Cesar, Clark's arch nemesis. I haven't told Clark because I didn't want him to be even more unsettled since the transaction will undoubtedly involve Cesar coming here. We've settled on a price, but I told Cesar I would take $20 off for each single fireman he brought by the house and $30 if they were shirtless. Who knows, maybe I'll end up paying him. We can only hope.
Me: (to Clark) I can't look at you because I'm going to start crying.
Clark:
Me: (to Clark) Really, don't look at me because I will start crying and I haven't cried one day this week.
Clark:
Me: (to Clark) Please (sob) don't (sob) die! (sob).
So despite my super busy week of furnishing a mini-toddler room/nursery in anticipation of over night stays this week while my parents celebrate their anniversary, baby- proofing the house for the same reason, scheduling the handymen to come and fix the leaking washer and to put together the crib, I had to take one Puppy Clark to the vet this afternoon so I would know if he was knocking at death's door.
Clark hasn't been in a car since me and him and Sarah Warah moved in a whirlwind day from our ghetto house in Victorville to a nicer house in Apple Valley when I came home and found the notice on the door saying that the ghetto house in Victorville was going to be auctioned off because the owners were in foreclosure. Today though, I dutifully came home did a little switcher-oonie with the dogs so Randi and Earl had no idea Clark and I were off for an adventure and then put Clark in the car where I covered everything up with blankets so his fur wouldn't get on anything. Clark is not a very relaxed dog and he was on high high alert for several hours. He was on particular high alert when they used the catheter to get a urine sample. Give me 40 sophomores and the passé composé any day over that. Two hours and $99 later we found out that there is nothing wrong with Clark. He's fine. He looks great for 13 years old. Fabulous.
In other great news I sold my road bike to Cesar, Clark's arch nemesis. I haven't told Clark because I didn't want him to be even more unsettled since the transaction will undoubtedly involve Cesar coming here. We've settled on a price, but I told Cesar I would take $20 off for each single fireman he brought by the house and $30 if they were shirtless. Who knows, maybe I'll end up paying him. We can only hope.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Home
I haven't been posting too much because I'm hardly ever home any more it seems. It's gotten so bad that I told my dad maybe we should talk about me getting my room back over there. He just laughed. Probably because he knows he would have to put up another shed to house all of the fabric my mother has in my old room.
In any case, mostly I just sleep at my house and feed the dogs. And sometimes I try to catch up on TV. Mostly I do this at 5:30am when I know that the possibility of a crisis is greatly reduced. What this means is that my pack of dogs feels more than slightly neglected and which Randi and Earl expressed Saturday or Sunday by removing my bike helmet from the garage and chewing it up. Now, granted, I have not been using my bike helmet because I don't have my road bike or my mountain bike, having lent them out to people who could actually ride them. The sight of my chewed up bike helmet was the final sign that I need to sell my mountain bike and road bike and so it was with great reluctance that I texted Chadwick to help me figure out a fair price for them. I'm trying to put on my big girl pants about it because I know that I'm not ever going to ride my bikes again and I know that I'm very lucky that I can even walk again without pain and most of the time I feel like that, but then Monday morning Coach Box brought a Cyclevélo magazine in French to my classroom as a present and I spent all morning oogling it like it was Playboy. And the truth is I'm a bit sad to get rid of my mountain bike and road bike because I really enjoyed riding my bikes. I'm keeping my green commuter bike with the basket, but it did not make all the boys jealous like my Gary Fisher HiFi Pro fancy frame with the fancy fork and seat with the rip from when I fell doing the Blue Diamond trail outside of Vegas with Bill and convertible to tubeless wheels or my LeMond road bike. The Gary Fisher HiFi Pro had replaced the broken frame on my Gary Fisher Cake II Deluxe which was my first real mountain bike and which I used to chase Nick Viselli around Bell Mountain one summer and which went on many many mountain bike trips and which got hike a biked all around the desert.
In other news, my classroom faces the front parking lot which allows me to keep a close eye on who is coming and going every day. And don't think I don't because it gives me something to do while I'm repeating for the 17th time in one hour "Mario a fumé un café où il a bu un café?" Well today I was busy quizzing kids on l'Invasion des Normands au XII au IV siècles when three men (boys) with dumb hats on walked up the sidewalk. I thought those three look like they're up to no good. Not too much longer the three men (boys) walked back to their car WHEN the one man (boy) undid his belt and PULLED DOWN HIS PANTS! I was passing out papers and I put my paper in front of my face and exclaimed, "Il a baissé son pantalon! Son pantalon!!" Now, yes, it is true that this man (boy) did not moon me. It is true that this man (boy) was wearing whatever the fuck men (boys) wear underneath their pants but over their underoos and that was what I saw but I'm not going to lie- it was shocking to see him undo his belt and then drop is pants! Son pantalon! In front of my fucking room!! I promptly called the office and said, "Yes, um, so there's these guys..." They sent over George, the security guard. George and I spend a lot of time after school driving around in the cart delivering snack while George throws out the most obscure and awesome movie references. Today in reference to the pants dropping it was Porky's. Porky's! One day he threw out the name Richard Grieco and then talked about License to Kill. George is awesome. George asked for a description. I couldn't give him one because all I could remember were these punks dumb hats. George told me that regrettably, without a better description than some kid with a dumb hat pulled down his pants and didn't actually flash anyone anything besides the stupid not underwear that men (boys) with dumb hats wear that he was probably not going to be able to identify the perpetrator.
In any case, mostly I just sleep at my house and feed the dogs. And sometimes I try to catch up on TV. Mostly I do this at 5:30am when I know that the possibility of a crisis is greatly reduced. What this means is that my pack of dogs feels more than slightly neglected and which Randi and Earl expressed Saturday or Sunday by removing my bike helmet from the garage and chewing it up. Now, granted, I have not been using my bike helmet because I don't have my road bike or my mountain bike, having lent them out to people who could actually ride them. The sight of my chewed up bike helmet was the final sign that I need to sell my mountain bike and road bike and so it was with great reluctance that I texted Chadwick to help me figure out a fair price for them. I'm trying to put on my big girl pants about it because I know that I'm not ever going to ride my bikes again and I know that I'm very lucky that I can even walk again without pain and most of the time I feel like that, but then Monday morning Coach Box brought a Cyclevélo magazine in French to my classroom as a present and I spent all morning oogling it like it was Playboy. And the truth is I'm a bit sad to get rid of my mountain bike and road bike because I really enjoyed riding my bikes. I'm keeping my green commuter bike with the basket, but it did not make all the boys jealous like my Gary Fisher HiFi Pro fancy frame with the fancy fork and seat with the rip from when I fell doing the Blue Diamond trail outside of Vegas with Bill and convertible to tubeless wheels or my LeMond road bike. The Gary Fisher HiFi Pro had replaced the broken frame on my Gary Fisher Cake II Deluxe which was my first real mountain bike and which I used to chase Nick Viselli around Bell Mountain one summer and which went on many many mountain bike trips and which got hike a biked all around the desert.
In other news, my classroom faces the front parking lot which allows me to keep a close eye on who is coming and going every day. And don't think I don't because it gives me something to do while I'm repeating for the 17th time in one hour "Mario a fumé un café où il a bu un café?" Well today I was busy quizzing kids on l'Invasion des Normands au XII au IV siècles when three men (boys) with dumb hats on walked up the sidewalk. I thought those three look like they're up to no good. Not too much longer the three men (boys) walked back to their car WHEN the one man (boy) undid his belt and PULLED DOWN HIS PANTS! I was passing out papers and I put my paper in front of my face and exclaimed, "Il a baissé son pantalon! Son pantalon!!" Now, yes, it is true that this man (boy) did not moon me. It is true that this man (boy) was wearing whatever the fuck men (boys) wear underneath their pants but over their underoos and that was what I saw but I'm not going to lie- it was shocking to see him undo his belt and then drop is pants! Son pantalon! In front of my fucking room!! I promptly called the office and said, "Yes, um, so there's these guys..." They sent over George, the security guard. George and I spend a lot of time after school driving around in the cart delivering snack while George throws out the most obscure and awesome movie references. Today in reference to the pants dropping it was Porky's. Porky's! One day he threw out the name Richard Grieco and then talked about License to Kill. George is awesome. George asked for a description. I couldn't give him one because all I could remember were these punks dumb hats. George told me that regrettably, without a better description than some kid with a dumb hat pulled down his pants and didn't actually flash anyone anything besides the stupid not underwear that men (boys) with dumb hats wear that he was probably not going to be able to identify the perpetrator.
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