The IRS are a bunch of idiots. In 2005, we paid a lady a total of $848 in commissions. She just got a bill from the IRS stating that she owes them over $36,000 in taxes off the money we paid her in 2005. Evidently they added a few extra zeros to the 1099 information we sent them. Dummies.
Tomorrow is my birthday. In honor of such, I bought myself a much-needed birthday present: 7 new DVDs of BTB episodes.
No, I don’t have a BTB fettish…but Kaelin does. And we only have two. And we’ve been watching the same two over and over and over and I’ve got them both memorized and as much as I prefer BTB to some of the other wackos that people let their kids watch, if I have to see those same episodes any more my head is going to explode.
It’s tradition in my family to take the birthday girl/boy out for dinner at a restaurant of his/her choosing. My parents asked me where I wanted to go and I said something like, “I really want crab. I’d say Red Lobster, but I know Iris doesn’t like seafood and I don’t think they have much there besides seafood.”
Their immediate response was, “That’s irrelevant, it’s your birthday so if you want to pick Red Lobster, then pick Red Lobster.” I said, “Ok. I want to go to Red Lobster.”
Ever since that conversation, they’ve been trying to talk me out of going to Red Lobster. They’ve offered lots of other more expensive places, and my answer has always been the same: That’s fine if you guys really want to go there. But if it’s up to me, I’d rather go to Red Lobster.
They called me the other day and said, “You HAVE to give us SOME ideas for what you want for your birthday!” I can’t think of much this year in the way of gift ideas, but eventually I did come up with one idea.
The next day my mom tried to talk me out of it. “Are you sure you want that? What if they wrap you up too tight?”
What if they…huh???
Next time I should just send out invitations:
Please come to my Birthday Dinner, at __________________.
Gift ideas: _____________, ________________, and __________________.
Please fill in appropriate fields with what you were hoping I would say, because I probably wouldn’t get it right anyway.
The wind is so strong here today that it’s blowing the birds right out of the trees. There are shingles in the alleyway from various people’s houses and the sky/air outside is this weird yellowish color because so much sand/dust has been blown up into the air that when you go check the mail, you can feel the grit of it in your teeth. I don’t recall opening my mouth when I checked the mail, and yet I have sand in my teeth.
All the trash/recycling bins have toppled over and our backyard chairs have been blown up against the house. The closed umbrella is now prostrate on the ground. Every time there’s a breeze, the window in our master bath whistles. Today it sounds like there’s a train going through there.
Whatever this is blowing in, I wish it would just get here already.
And in other news, the salon where Britney shaved off her hair is selling the locks for $1,000 per strand. It strikes me as sad when celebrities reach such a superhuman status that people become willing and eager to make a profit on a person’s display of emotional instability.
I can only recall one time in my life in which I’ve experienced truly paralyzing, spine-tingling fear – the kind that breaches the emotional realm and becomes physical*.
In high school I dated a Mormon boy. He was a nice boy, very intelligent, and we got along very well because we had a similar sense of humor and I enjoyed his stories and intellectual discussion.
He was also very religiously devout. One day he brought me a copy of The Book of Mormon and asked that I read it. There’s a claim that those who read the book will know its truth because they will feel a burning in the chest. At least, I think that’s how it goes – it’s been several years.
Though rather underdeveloped in practice, I have always had a strong interest in learning about other religions, so I was interested to read the book. That night, I went to bed early so I could devote some time to it, and started at the beginning.
I got through a few chapters and suddenly became acutely aware of the perception that I was no longer alone in my room. I glanced up at the doorway. There was nobody there.
Then something brought my gaze to the papazan chair in the corner of my room. And there I saw them. There were two. Two, quite distinct and separate…
Beings. I don’t know how to describe them. I could see them. But couldn’t. It was like looking at two voids in space. Two … living … shadowy … voids. One sat in the chair, and the other seemed to perch on the side of it. They sat there and looked at me with eyes that I couldn’t see.
Fear. Bone-chilling terror like I have never experienced before or since shot straight through my body.
My arms and muscles became completely incapable of responding to any command from my brain. I was rendered physically unable to move, completely frozen, able to do nothing but stare at my supernatural visitors.
The beings didn’t move and didn’t show any physical signs of aggression. It was though they were simply there to observe me, to be present.
And yet they were ominous in a way I can only describe as evil. Not “evil” in the sense that our Commander in Chief defines terrorists, which is a weak descriptor of deed or thought.
Evil in substance, something that is menacing in its very existence, a physical incarnation of the unimaginable, like a black hole.
I sat there for what seemed like hours, though I know it was only minutes – bound captive in my frozen state.
Eventually, I let out a prayer. It was nothing more than a whisper for deliverance, a simple, shaky invocation of something my mother taught me.
And they left.
I sat there in solitude, staring at the utter emptiness of my room, questioning my own sanity. Would they return? Did I really see them? What did they want?
Eventually, I laid the book down, turned off the light and went to sleep.
I told the boy what had happened. He quickly consulted his elder and reported back to me the determination that because I was opening a book of Truth, demons had been sent to me to frighten me away from it and prevent its revelation to me.
I kept the book. That was the last time I read from it though.
*There is a train of thought that brought me to this, which I will deal with in a later (most likely private) post.
So I’m in the middle of this self-guided study through the history of Christian scriptures and textual criticism and am finding out some really fascinating things about how Christianity almost came to be, before the Orthodox Christians won out and stamped out all the conflicting ideals.
Me: … and so there was this group called the Gnostics, who – are you snoring?
Him: Hmm??? …No…
Me: You were snoring.
Him: I was listening. You’re reading about the Gnostics who did something.
Me: You fell asleep while I was talking to you.
Him: …I love you…?
Me: But you could care less about my book.
Him: I’m interested. I was listening. And then…I was waking up. But I do want to hear about your book.
Me: Tomorrow.
Him: Tomorrow.
(Just pretend I wrote this on the 17th)
At one time I was keeping a list of the words Kaelin said and when she learned them. I have since had to abandon that list because she learns so many words every day that I simply can’t keep up.
She can make a reasonable attempt at most words we ask her for, and they’re actually pretty intelligible. Here’s the list where I left off:
It stops there because, like I said, I lost the ability to keep up.
Her latest phrases are “DON’T DIE” (which she says when she’s going down the stairs…wonder where she learned that…) and “Ewww, butt” (because, well, yeah). I just wish I could get her to say “Ewww, butt” (or something) to signal that her diaper needs changing, instead of waiting until she’s on the changing table to inform me of the predicament of which, at that point, I am all too aware.
Today she learned Open, Stairs and Nay (as in, “What does the horse say?”…although I think she’s been spending too much time with Grandmommy because that one comes out as “Nyyyyyyyyyeeeeee”). There were probably others, but her daily vocabulary quotient exceeds my memory quotient. I attempted to teach her “Barack Obama” …but that was less than successful. It sort of came out as Oh…Mama.
It’s so much fun to get to the stage where she can communicate verbally. For a while there, she would get so frustrated when she wanted something but couldn’t express what it was. But now she can tell us that she wants IN the box, OUT of the room, UP the stairs. She can tell us she wants her IPPY! (sippy cup) or a BITE! of what we are eating, followed by “What do you say?”: PEEECE! (please), and then something that resembles Thank You…sometimes.
The verbal communication has been her biggest growth over the past several months. I’ve totally lost count of how many words she says, but I can tell you that every single one of them make you want to pinch her little cheeks.
We’ve finally figured out the culprit that produces the Flaming Flesh-Eating Diaper Rash of Doom:
Kiwis. And Strawberries. But especially Kiwis. She loves them, but they’re SO. NOT. WORTH IT.
She’s officially graduated into size 18-month clothing. This marks the first time she has ever grown into a size before she reached that age. For the first year of her life she was at least 1 size behind, growing into size 3-6 months a few days into her 7th month. She suddenly made the leap into size 12-mo on her 1 year birthday, and since then she’s been growing steadily.
I don’t mind because I get to feed my baby clothing addition…don’t tell Jens.
Another fabulous turn of events over the last couple of months is that the naps are once again making an appearance. Read: My sanity has been preserved. I can now usually get her to take 2 1-hour naps per day, which is a remarkable improvement over She Who Does! Not! Nap!, who graced our presence for about a month.
Today she only took one of her naps, and fell asleep in her highchair in the middle of dinner. I’ll tell you what – once that child decides to go to sleep, nothing – NOTHING – will deter her.
We have also entered the Valley of the Shadow of Tantrums, which I hear lasts for the next 9 years. I’m choosing to ignore that. While she’s an angel 99.9% of the time, this child can throw a tantrum like nobody’s business. Time to come inside? Can’t go play on the stairs? Can’t watch Bob the Builder for the 200th time today?
TOTAL. SYSTEM. MELTDOWN.
Today I started putting her in “time out” when the tantrum started. I told her repeatedly that she could come out of the pack-n-play when she stopped pitching a fit. I think she’s getting the hang of it, as the fits didn’t last for too long. After she comes out of “isolation,” we do something that she can get lots of praise for – she likes that and I think it helps distract her from whatever she was so upset about.
The last couple of months have been the best, by far. I know I say that every month. But it’s true.
This site needs a makeover.
And I, who design blogs for a living extra play money, am too lazy to do it.
Sad, isn’t it?
Just for the record, if…
…it’s important to bring your office keys with you. Or, barring that, at least remember that you need your office keys BEFORE you pull into the office parking lot.
Just saying…
I’m pretty indifferent about Valentine’s Day.
I know there are a lot of people out there who really hate it with a vengeance and are so repulsed at the very mention of the occasion that you can actually see the skin on their face start to shrivel and peel away.
I don’t have that alien nuclear radiation effect. I just don’t really care much about it.
I’m not a romantic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. We usually don’t get presents for each other on Valentine’s and prefer to do dinner out the night before or after to avoid the crowds.
Two years ago I found out on Valentine’s that I was pregnant, so we did the whole dinner reservations thing and I bought J a pooper-scooper for the litter box to initiate the beginning of his 9 months of having sole litter box duty on account of my pregnancy.
See. Not a romantic.
But last night my parents offered to take Kaelin for the night so we could have an evening out. I didn’t know what to do with that. I mean, it was VALENTINE’S DAY, oh dreaded Day of 5-Hour Restaurant Waiting Times and No Available Reservations.
I hate waiting at restaurants. HATE IT. Remember that alien nuclear radiation effect? Yeah, I get that about waiting.
But it was an opportunity for a NIGHT OUT – as in, just the two of us – that rare and sacred opportunity that I must hold to my bosom and pet and cherish, lest it disappear forever. That precious glimpse of our past lives, free of responsibility and diapers.
While we wouldn’t give up our current situation for anything, there’s a mystical and almost naughty quality about The Night Out – something that defies understanding makes it entirely irresistible.
Ergo, even I, the Reigning Supreme Hater of Restaurant Wait Times could not turn down The Night Out.
So we joined the rest of the world and went out to eat on Valentine’s Day.
J called a restaurant and was told the current wait time was only 15 minutes (gasp!). But by the time we packed up Kaelin, took her to my parents, and made it over there, the wait time had become 2 hours.
TWO HOURS??? This was not a fancy, exclusive restaurant. This was a typical steak & potatoes place. Not even The Night Out could overcome the agony of spending that much time waiting for a table.
I told J I was NOT sitting there for 2 hours and we went home and watched Bones and American Idol.
Two hours later, we went back.
Zero wait time. Night Out. Texas Twist Margarita.
BLISS.
Not you. Well, you can if you want to.
I’m currently waiting on 2 emails, one that I don’t really want to get, and one that I reallyreallyreally want to get like RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE LIKE IT NEEDS TO BE HERE FIVE MINUTES AGO AND SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG BECAUSE IT’S NOT HERE YET AND I’VE CHECKED MY EMAIL 20 TIMES IN THE LAST 10 MINUTES AND WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME????
Yep. I need a life.
I HAVE GREAT SKIN.Â
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Hi. I'm Amy. I started this website in 2005 as a place to deposit my journal and photos. It has gone through a few incarnations and masquerades as a family site, but since I'm the only one who contributes to it, it's really all about ME, ME, ME.
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