The long and winding road.

My apologies my previous post left out all the lovely details of my winding road to incarceration, I shall catch you all up now.



As I may have mentioned, my pregnancy was a result of a "contraception malfunction"



I was on the pill. And yes I took it correctly, and at the same time every day, and no I was not on oral antibiotics. It just happened.



But anyway, there I was April Fools day barfing up my Caribou coffee..and I knew it to be true (though I required no less than SIX tests...each pink line getting progressively darker...literally up to the day I went to the doctor to confirm) I was pregnant.

Never mind that I am past that magic number of 35, past which the chances of things going wrong greatly increases...
Nor mind the fact that whilst I adore Mr Dreadful, and he me. ..we are not married....yet.


Lets focus in the real reason Penny should not be pregnant...Penny only has one full sized functioning kidney..
I've got two. Only the other one is quite small. (I'll spare you the long winded explanation for now) suffice it to say a birth defect and childhood illness resulted in a portion of my kidney being damaged, and my body just absorbed the damaged portion...leaving a mini kidney in its wake.



My first pregnancy was uneventful until the 32nd week when I developed PIH (pregnancy induced hypertension) and was promptly hospitalized (and I mean promptly...like straight to the hospital from the OB visit) I was induced two weeks later, had a lovely little preemie weighing in at 4 lbs 7 oz...who after spending one month and two days in the NICU grew into the wee V, who at 11 is now my equal in height.
I recovered well from that and never really comtemplated how lucky I was to survive the experience. Partly because I was young, and mostly because nobody bothered to emphasize how lucky I was.

Well fast forward 10 years...and viola here I am again..only this pregnancy was much much different.
From the very beginning I have been battered with tests, apparently these doctors were taking this seriously...so seriously in fact that before my first trimester ended I had been referred to a perinatologist for high risk pregnancies.
Where at my very first visit the doctor expressed his concern over my pregnancy, and referred me to a Nephrologist to also manage me during the pregnancy.

Where with V I blithely sashayed through the pregnancy week after week. With Owen,
Every day was a victory, I was absolutely terrified something would go wrong.
(Not to mention an earlier test raised the possibility for Downs Syndrome, but we still chose not to have an amniocentesis)
The stress was phenomenal...every appt both anticipated and dreaded.
I loved that because of the pratice I got to see the spud at every visit (sono in the office...niiice)
But scared shitless that I would start showing signs of pre-eclampsia.
I was put on the Beta Blocker Nifedipine for my blood pressure early and carried the worry of any side effects that would have on our child (I was unable to take other med's because of my reduced kidney fuction)
My blood pressure was almost always high, but not sky high, until September 19, I was 27 weeks and 5 days.
And I had finally run out of luck, my pressure was up, and I had finally started to show increased protein in my urine. The doctor wanted to admit me immediately but I refused (and purst into tears) and asked to postpone making any decision until friday, and the opportunity to see my nephrologist the next day.
The doctor agreed telling me that I needed to come into the hospital antenatal testing center to chart what the baby's progress was, but he cautioned me to bring a bag, because if my pressure was still up, I was being admitted for observation.

Friday I packed a bag in tears, I did not want to leave my home and my family (mention here, I did not want to leave my son) I held small hope that maybe I would get to come home, I prayed, I bargained...but to no avail.
I was admitted, with more than a few tears.
And in the hospital I stayed for eight weeks and five days.
Slowly losing my mind.
Every Monday and Thursday I had blood draws at 6am to see if the magic bad happened and it "was time" which meant that I fasted from midnight before until I got the results...sometimes shortly after my breakfast arrived to taunt me..sometimes hours later when it had reached room temp.
The entire time I remained symptom free (preeclampsia symptoms that is)
Nausea, blurred vision, spots before my eyes, upper GI pain...urinating fine, blah blah blah.
Until finally someone murmered the magic words..delivery in early November...

Well shite...I just realized today (January 31) that I never published this..well I'll finish it later..heres up to now

Sleep deprivation and natural sunlight

I'm home!
And so is spud!

I apologize for being so neglectful...I suck.

No good excuse other than I was just overwhelmed by everything and had nary a creative thought in my pretty little head.

Plus I kept starting an entry..and then getting sidetracked and leaving it unfinished.

So instead on trying to write it ALL at once...I'm going to have to write it in bits...so please pardon the "hindsite" and eventually I will get everyone caught up on the the roller coaster that is this ride has been.

And eventually I'll even get pictures up.

In the meantime I have done my part to continue the species, and Owen Christopher Dreadful is so gorgeous and wonderful that I'm stunned stupid at how blessed I am.

peas and carats,
-P

Incarceration...incarcera.a.a.tion..its making me nutters

Sorry for the delay in posting.

But you see I am incarcerated to an extent.

About one month ago I showed up at the hospital which I shall be birthing at, for a little check-up..to see how the little spud is doing.
Basically an ultrasound to check his weight, size, amniotic fluid levels...blah blah blah.

And ended up admitted to the hospital..and I'm still here.

Waiting for either my due date...or my health to take a sudden plunge for hell.

I never know the boundries of boredom before now.

blurg.

Anyway, my nurse just walked in to check my vitals, so I shall post more later.

I take it out on everyone around me.

Dear Mr Dreadful,



I know you only occassionally read my blog, because in your chivalry you think it somewhat akin to spying on me, and think that should I have have the want... I should have somewhere to bitch and complain about you without having to justify it.



By this time I'm sure you've figured out that if I have something to bitch or complain about, I do it to your face, because what good is being pissed off if you dont know it???





But I feel the need to both Thank You and apologize to you for a couple of things.



First,

I am sorry that the athletic energetic girl you fell in love with and embarked on this "life" with is exhausted ALL the time and you pretty much have to run the house now...AND walk the dog in this crappy summer heat.

And I thank you for never one time complaining about it.



I'm sorry I am such a stroppy cow.

Yesterday at the renal ultrasound I had to pee REALLY bad (as you know)

And it was hot, and that farking eejit in the blue Monte Carlo parked too close to me.

A half dozen things that were not your fault, but I snapped at you for anyway.



Thank you for accepting my weird little jinxy habits about this pregnancy.

It seems like every bizarre request I have had of you, you have done your best to fulfill.

From coming to my doctors appointments with me to listening via stethascope to my tummy every night.



For the seemingly endless stream of terrified tears I have cried, that you have let me weep it out, handed me a tissue and told me we will be fine, I cannot thank you enough.

Just remember at the end of this road you will have a beautiful child, and I love you.

(yeah yeah..barf)

Cue the disco ball...

Last weekend was my class reunion...my 20 year class reunion.



A less than auspicious occasion I was content to let pass like a painful but small kidney stone.



It was held a nearby swanky hotel, the plan being Friday evening was a cocktail/informal meet and greet at the hotel bar (gratis) followed on Saturday evening by the official "grand" event.



My plan was to miss the entire experience, my dear friend since early development planned to attend just the Friday night do.

Of course she calls me at 11:00 friday night drunk as a skunk telling me how much fun they're having and how it just isn't the same without me.

Haaaa I doubt that, since I could very well have been voted the girl you least likely remember going to high school.

But those pesky pregnancy hormones got to me, and made me all weak.

So I slipped into a slinky red dress that showed by big belly to its best (smirk) and toddled off to see how the classmates have fared.

The guys are all skeevy old guys. Either fat or just creepy (drug usage in the late eighties/early nineties not kind)

And the women? Well most are divorced and trying to convince everyone how thrilled they are with this..but one...a rather athletic lass..bleached her hair and got new boobs!

And she is still a bitch!

God I hated high school.

No more suprises..thankyouverramuch

Yesterday we had our Level II Ultrasound where they check the progress of the baby (brain present, heart present measurements and whatnot)
But what we spoilers really look forward to is finding out the gender!

Blah Blah Blah Blah I know life is full of little to no suprises..but if you recall spud was a suprise.

So without further ado....it's a boy. A happy healthy very active boy.

Mr Dreadful is of course over the moon, having been terrified at the idea of a girl.
silly man.

Little person...lots of stuff

From what I hear, most pregnant women look forward to the opportunity to shop for their little one with great abandon and joy. Pouring through catalogs, websites and dragging their partner though endless baby stores...almost from the beginning.
I am 4 days away from my halfway point (20 weeks) and I have not so much as given a thought to anything but a stroller and a baby carrier.
I have no motif for my nursery...no nursery yet in fact (will suss that out soon...ish)
I have not yet begun a registry, nor shopped for clothes furniture or any other baby stuff.

This knowledge has been greeted with much suprise by other women. Both pregnant and not.

Is it my ADD? Some sort of latent denial of my situation? I dunno. Maybe it's just that this pregnancy has been so precarious I'm afraid to get caught up in anything, lest something go "wrong"
Negative Nancy?

Whole body experience.

Dear Random person.

Please do not think that reaching out and touching my pregnant stomach is ok, and do not be offended if you ask me and I say no. In fact dont ask, just assume I dont want someone whom I do not have a relationship with rubbing me.

Please understand that the politely glacial look I give you, or the good humored rebuff is me exhibiting manners.

What I want to do is slap you as hard as I can and tell you to keep your paws to yourself.

Also, telling me I am getting big/huge is just rude, I am pregnant..fuck off. The only person who needs to note my weight gain is my OB.
The same goes for my breasts, yes I know they are larger, it is rather difficult to avoid having cleavage when you left behind a DD and are onto new letters in the alphabet.
Rude sexual comments will get you a kick in the bollocks. Openly scamming on a pregnant woman is just gross. Like the grossest of gross.

Irritate the pregnant woman at your own peril.

Sincerely,

Pregnant Penny full of ire.

Time has marched over me.



Sunday was that blessed event which shall someday be a national holiday known as "Penny's Birthday" yeah Penny.



I received loads of lovely presents and much adoration was heaped upon my burgeoning beauty.



However in true to myself form..I fell asleep early.



Being "of a certain age" and pregnant has made me boring as hell.

Oof!

So a few evenings ago I was doing my required "15 minutes when I get home with my feet elevated" whilst reading the newest Laurell K. Hamilton-Anita Blake book (still full of typo's and too much sex, but at least she found her plot again) when my book took a little hop.
Huh?
It was spud! my very first real thwack from inside. So of course I called Mr. Dreadful and the Vinner in to feel it.
Mr. Dreadful was dutifully enthralled (having learned already that anything less than estatic enthusiasm will earn attitude..)
But Vinner slogged in with his usual preteen lethargy "Whaaaaaaaat?" (how do they draw that word out so long?)
Laid his hand on my tummy rolling his eyes, when 'thunk' Suddenly a huge grin and "that was cool, do it again"

Silly boys.

Ode to NOLA

Last week my friend Crystal and I went to see Harrick Connick Jr. in concert at a local outdoor ampitheatre Wolf Trap.

It was a gorgeous coolish summer evening (ok it rained a bit, but we had seats under the pavilion so blah)

It was ever soo much fun, I of course obessed over the locations of the bathrooms, and had a stuffed up nose. But if one loves Jazz and or Harry Connick Jr. it was a divine evening.

It felt nice to have some "grown up fun" even if I could not partake of the open bar at the celebration before hand.

And I felt no guilt over exploiting my pregnant status to jump the queue for the hopper.

I have no shame...

EGADS!

Dear beloved gentleman.



On behalf of my sisterhood, here is a guide as to momento's from previous relationships.



Throw them all away.



And most importantly. Delete/erase/eradacate every scrap of her off of your fucking computer.



There is absolutely no excuse for us finding pictures of of the two of you on holiday in Cancun/Disneyworld.



Laziness or forgetfulness is not an excuse, in fact it makes us even angrier.

Worst case? It makes us cry, and you dont want to do that now do you?

Oh the joys of it all.

I have a cold.

From the typhoid molly that sits across the aisle from me at my place of enslavement.

Last week she spewed her pestilence all over the office, and now I have a cold.

However I also have the extra added bliss of being pregnant, which means I cannot take anything for it.

Here is a list of my approved cold medicines whilst pregnant:

Tylenol
Saline Nose Spray
Vicks Vapo-Rub

Admit it, you wish you were me.
I dont blame you, beacause I still look fabulous...and fertile..

:-P

A perry na who ist?

So, here I am at my 14th week and I have already been sent to a Perinatologist (for high risk pregnancies)

Who has in turn informed me I need to go see a Nephrologist as well.



Childhood illness left me with one fully functioning kidney and one..small part of a kidney.



::sigh::



No rest for the wicked I suppose.



Anyway, I thank every deity involved that I have decent medical insurance or I would be screwed royally.



Just my bloodwork so far...because this could get UGLY..

So thats why everyone stepped back...

So now I'm showing, so everyone in my world now knows I'm pregnant.



Which is apparently a really good thing, because most of them just thought I was getting really fat.



Mind you I have only gained 4 freaking pounds so far, due to the excessive nausea.



But they were apparently really significant pounds.



Several people have responded to my apparent state of pregnancy with the reply "Thank God, I just thought you were gaining weight"



Obatabee. I'm glad I could put your mind at ease..Rest easy I am not a potentional member of "BBW" I am simply pregnant.



So now? They bring me food, and make lots of jokes about getting out my way when I'm heading to lunch (we had a buffet at a work event last week and there were endless remarks about not blocking my access to the line)



Haaaaaa you so funny.



So not funny.



So here is the only allowable thing to say to a pregnant woman, or a woman you think might be pregnant..

"You look good today"

and that is it...thankyou

What a pain in the hoohah...

*WARNING GRAPHIC TESTING POST AHEAD*

Yesterday I had another test.

Nuchal Translucency/ Sequential Screen.
It is a sonogram in coordination with a blood draw to determine the chances the child I am currently carrying may have Downs Syndrome, trisomy 18, or open neural tube defects.

It is not required, but is suggested for those over 30...something.

The little brochure told me this was an EXTERNAL sonogram, which I am cool with.

But the brochure lied, this was an internal sonogram....again.

Now the last internal sonogram I had so pissed my cervix off, it caused a short period of spotting, so I was not eager to repeat this process. But I was there already draped in my little paper drape.

SHIT.

And I'll tell you ladies and gentleman this time around it SUCKED the suck of a thousand sucking suckers.

The chair you sit in is similar to a astronauts launch seat in that after you placed you feet in the alotted stirrups you are lifted and tilted back and backside up so that the doctor has a clear inward shot with the sono stick.
Which to be honest looks alot like a dildo with a condom on it..
So in the "probe" slides (BLLUURRRRGG)

First the attempt to locate my ovaries, again, which entails much pushing down and around on my abdomen, whilst shifting about inside..OUCH.

After seemingly hours/seconds of this, I politely reminded the doctor that just a mere two weeks ago we took a looky loo at said ovaries and they were present and happy, lets assume they still are and get down to bizness.

There on the screen is my little spud, however spud is napping in a position the is not conducive to picture taking so the doctor shakes the probe around inside me, (think stirring motion) waking spud up and causing him to move into what I assume is the first correct position.
Then there is more shaking and spud moves again (after what appears to be a swatting motion in the doctor's direction)

Poor Mr. Dreadful was very disconcerted by this. And later told me of his urge to ask the doctor if he could "stick that thing up his ass and start stirring" Bwaa I was thinking same thing.

Thankfully the process ended before I blacked out...and off I went to be poked by a phlebotomist.

Happy Happy Joy Joy.

Another poke (by the phlebotomist) in 4 or 5 weeks..and then thats that.

But no more tests of this nature. I'm done..what will be will be.

I am physically and emotionally spent from this roller coaster ride.

I beg your pardon?

So, whilst at my old OB's office picking up my dusty records from my first roll down the birthing alley (I'm switching to a new one for this act) I managed to liberate a magazine on Pregnancy (seriously, they have a magazine about it! only 9 issues in a subscription..natch) anyway in this particular magazine, buried between pages of adverts (apparently pregnancy has taken over being gay as an untapped market..so there were A LOT of adverts)
There was an article about "dating when you're pregnant"

How to DATE when you're already pregnant.

It contained tips on things such as when to tell your new beau that you're pregnant, whether you should explain how you got pregnant, at which point should you stop dating when you're pregnant.

I wonder how most men would take this bit of news - not the shining Adonis' of virtue whose stories are contained in those pages, but real live men...

Someone please stop this whirling..around..and..around

For those of you who are blessed either by gender or genetics and have never experienced "Morning Sickness"

I loathe you all.

It has been compared to motion sickness, which having suffered from as a child I can attest to the similarities.. (not to mention a unforgettable experience with a Waltzer at Hull Fair a few years ago.....put me off mushy peas for LIFE)

But unlike motion sickness where you start to feel a little blurg...and then a little queasy...and maybe throw up, or maybe not...

Morning sickness (which no doubt you've heard can strike anytime day or night) hits fast...and you either calm your stomach...or you PRAY to puke..because throwing up would be a boon. No no you just get that watery feeling in your mouth...and CANNOT puke.

Here is me: (2-3 times during night)

Wake up, sit up, start walking to bathroom to pee...'Oh dear lord I'm going to puke' turn back to kitchen and get glass of Ginger Ale and a piece of Hawaiian Bread (hey it works) and sip and eat standing in kitchen...then rush to bathroom to pee(taking deep breaths and chanting 'please dont like me puke..please dont let me puke'...come back to kitchen and nibble some more on way back to bed.
Now you ask why dont I keep something by the bed? Because if the ginger ale is not ice cold..I will throw up..and I cannot eat without drinking.

My sense of smell, which was freakishly keen to begin with, is off the charts.
I cannot stand the smell of Dorito's just thinking of them is making me queasy actually.
And grocery stores just stink.


And the only way to calm the queasiness is to eat, constantly..small meals/snacks all day long, because eating TOO much at once will do the same, AND give me heartburn as well.

I do not remember it being this vicious....:sigh:

Huh...who woulda thunk it.

Alrighty, so obviously you've noticed I've been out of touch for a bit.

Fear not I have not taken off to join the Sherpas...nor have I renounced my blogging ways:

I'm Pregnant.
I'm exhausted, my breasts have gotten..just ridiculous. And have the morning, afternoon, evening and middle of the night sickness from Hades itself.

Add another cat...stir..

And VIOLA! Instant insanity. Meet Murphy, the newest member of the nuthouse.

I adopted him from the local shelter. He was a stray...

Since I currently already have one dog..and one cat, Murphy is currently cooling his fuzzy little heels in my bedroom, acclimating himself to the new environment, while I slowly introduce him to society.

He has a nervous stomach, which while thankfully has not resulted in puking...it has resulted in gas and bad breath (I have been assured this will pass when he settles down)

So..my room smells like...well...sun warmed cadaver.

His little bio said he was "chatty". However it did not mention his meow was soundless, like an old charlie chaplin movie...or cat charades.

He purrs, and when he sniffs around it sounds like the ladies room at studio 54.

This cat could snort a Buick...however he rarely actually MEOWS with acoustics...its a bit disconcerting.

Sometimes it takes a while..

If any of you out there are in a less than conventional relationship by societies standards you will understand my chagrin at this weekends happenings.

I live in the heart of suburbia.
Granted its gotten a little more "flavorful" in my hood lately, but you dont have to travel far down the road to be once again in the warmly beating epicenter of "soccer moms and SUVs"

Well my sweetie and I went out to dinner on Saturday at a local tex-mex establishment.

Margaritas and beer all around..keep em coming!

So of course we get carded (because clearly I am so young and well preserved that I boggle more simple minds)
The server cards me first, than my sweetie.

You could tell he wanted so badly to ask for mine back...and confirm the age difference.

Because, you see my "guy" is significantly younger than me.

It is such a non-issue with us, that we rarely even notice other people noticing anymore.

All of our friends and family have gotten past the age difference, mostly because over time I think people stop looking at each other in terms of labels and start just seeing what works.

We are irritatingly nauseatingly blissfully happy, but you need not worry about me blogging ad nauseum about it. We've been together for close to a year now, and I havent done it yet..so ya'll are safe.

Never have sex with an idiot.

Because you might get pregnant..

The other chromosomal donor for my brilliant offspring has decided he is going to be a father.

Apparently after ten fricking years of having a son, he has decided he is going to be a father now.

Therefor he has started showing up at Vinners soccer games.

This of course makes Vin estatic and me somewhere between mildly irritated and nauseous.

Either way he has decided to partake in the social activity of parenting..

So last Saturday instead of the usual schedule of taking Vin back to his house and taking a rest or shagging his girlfriend while my son plays on the internet.

He decided to take him to a movie.

And what movie does he choose to take my 10 year old angel to?

300.

Which is rated R. So when Vinner tells him he is not allowed to see rated R movies, his father tells him.
"If your mother has a problem with it, tell her to call me"
and the trampy girlfriend adds "You dont HAVE to tell her if she doesnt ask"

Which of course Vin couldn't wait to tell me.

.....

So when I saw him at Vincents soccer game, I calmly discussed that I think Vincent is too young to see rated R movies, and that MY rules are still rules even when I am not around.
he actually SMIRKED at me and told me I cant tell him what to do with "his boy"

So, I called him a useless pain in the ass monkey fucker and planted my Doc Marten on his boney ass hurling him over the bannister and crashing to the concrete below.

Ok...I didnt actually do that.

I took a very deep breath and simply smiled and reminded him that according to the Commonwealth of Virginia I actually CAN do just that...

HAH!

What ARE they teaching our kids these days??

I'll admit being a parent is so much harder than I ever imagined.

And what is the absolute hardest is keeping on top of his school work.

The wee V (who is not so wee anymore) brings home pounds of paperwork daily and weekly.

Home work, classwork, tests, ect ect ect...

And I have not always been diligent about sifting through all of the paperwork, checking on his progress and cracking the whip when necessary.

What they so rarely tell you is how easy it is to slip into complacency and believe your child when they tell you they dont have homework, and that school is going great, rather than make the daily effort to make sure he is "working" and being the "bitch" when he is slacking.

So a few months ago I began paying ALOT more attention to what my son brings home in his backpack, what he does on his tests, and classwork.
And it is scaring the hell out of me.
Because the work he is getting away with not doing at school is appallingly.

Most parents if they look at a paper of their childs and see a check mark or an "OK" dont feel the need to actually read the paper and see what the questions and answers are.
Well thats our fault, we should be reading the papers.

It is so easy to get caught up in the daily grind, I walk in my door at 6:00pm usually, and before I plant my head at night I : walk the dog, excavate the cat box , do laundry, make dinner, clean up after dinner, and tidy some portion of the house.
This does not include homework overseeing...

Well it is shocking to discover how much my son bullshits his way through tests and classwork.

AND HE GETS AWAY WITH IT!

It was funny when I was a kid, it is NOT so funny now that it is my child getting away with it.

So I make him redo his bullshit at home, basically I am reteaching my son what the schools and teachers are not teaching him..

So please forgive my long lapses, relearning the Revolutionary War and The Declaration of Independence and Thomas Jefferson and George Mason's contributions so I can make sure my SON learns them...doesnt leave as much time for blogging as it used to.

I'm still around and full of useless crap and opinions..I'm just a bit refocused at the mo.

Coming soon...

Dog Obediance classes
And Long division.

woop..woop

What Wonderful Wintery Weather

Sooo, yesterday as I'm rushing out the door late for my sons soccer game (his Dad switched days so he was with him yesterday)
I'm frantically zipping my pants and attempting to comb my fingers through my hair so that every other parent wont be giving me the hairy eyeball because the reason for my tardiness is CLEARLY written all over my face..when I realize its snowing!

OH...wrong post.


It snowed yesterday.

Finally.

Gretzky was whipped up into a fine frenzy over the white stuff, and was beyond blissful when he realized it was frozen WATER (he loooooves frozen water, who needs doggy bones when your dog with do the dishes for an ice cube?) and what time wasn't spent chasing us down the hill was spent snacking on the sidewalk.
Last night we lit a fire in the fireplace and spent quality family time gathered around the hearth ("Squeeze" and I fell asleep while the wee V played game boy)

Unfortunately schools were not cancelled, just delayed two hours.

So basically while there was enough snow for a few fun filled trips down the hill in my back yard (followed by yapping yellow dog), there was not enough to cancel school or relatively..work.

So I dug my car out and shuffled off to work today..dropping the wee V at his child care person.

Still it was worth it...SNOW ::sigh::

The wee V won his game by the by, he's the keeper and had some BRILLIANT saves.

Woot woot.

Oh how Penny has fallen....

Once upon a time, I ranted a rant to end all rants about that dungeon of retail mockery Victoria's Secret.

And just a few weeks ago..your very own Penny actually went into said hellish establishment and...purchased a brassiere.

Well actually my sweetie purchased it for me..after my slobbering beast from hell ate my favorite bra..thereby prompting me to collapse in tears in the middle of the floor..and him to drag me to the local mall still sniffling..

And it was one of those fancy schmancy rah rah IPEX brassieres..

I love it...I am so ashamed...but I look fabulous.

blurg.

A little change...

Or more likely me...a little change...a little at a time.

I was dead weary of the pink template, so I switched, but of course all of my customizationy thingers went poof, and I shall do my very bestest to spiff this up a bit..but really...the combination of being so busy I have to make an appt in my ledger to breathe...and having ADD..well dont hold YOUR breath to long..

But I may just enlist my squeeze with the big brain and his seemingly endless knowledge of all things computery to do it for me...actually that is a lovely idea.

Oh and yes you read it correctly...I still have the SAME squeeze.

And I'm still not bored. Miraculous tisntit?

Happy New Year!

Blah Blah Blah Blah....

Holy Schmackeral...what the hell happened to 2006?

May 2007 bring you all the lovely good things you want...and none of the nasty things you may deserve..

And may all your karma be good karma...