come on over...

and see me at kittyhotpants.com sometime... (i've been posting there because i can easily post from my phone. can YOU do that, blogger??? if you can, let me know-- i'm game.)

one block...

most mornings, when i get off the bus, i just breathe. deep, full breaths. on the short walk between the bus stop and my office, i breathe in as much of the crisp clean morning air that i can, so much that sometimes i become lightheaded - all because i know that once i reach the door, i have to go inside the ugly building and stay trapped in my windowless office, void of fresh air, for the next 9 hours, the better part of the day.

it ain't easy...

i don't know how, what with worrying about my sister-in-law who fainted and had a weird seizure and my uncle who had a heart attack last week and is still in the hospital and the plans this weekend that i know are going to change last minute and F the whole thing up and the high cholesterol i found out i have which means i can't eat anything i regularly eat and the bank account that is 60-something dollars overdrawn and the purse that i made last night with a too-long strap (WHO would EVER think to make a strap that long??? shit is almost swinging at my knees) that i had to put on 3 times because i have dyscalculia and the directions get mixed up in my head and the strap ended up inside the lining of the bag TWICE and the MASSIVE pile of student files on my desk that need to be logged and the fact i have to pee BAD because i drink obscene amounts of coffee in the wee hours at work just so i don't pass out from the previous night's insomnia or the sheer boredom of logging MASSIVE amounts of student files, but SOMEHOW i managed to get the majority of my work done this morning, and then once i was done was handed MORE work and am in serious crunch-time-get-shit-done-before-the-DHL-guy-comes-to-pick-up-the-packages-that-aren't-ready-yet-because-you-haven't-made-them-yet-because-you-are-too-busy-writing-this-blog-entry-and-trying-not-to-pee-your-pants-from-all-the-coffee but you'd better get them done because after that you have to log the rest of the MASSIVE amounts of student files and have a meeting with your boss that you still haven't prepared for and be available for drop-in advising for the students that will be here at 1pm holy shit that's only 10-no wait-9 minutes from now and don't forget that according to labor laws you still have to squeeze an hour long lunch in there somewhere for which you have no money since you are overdrawn and can't eat anything since you have high cholesterol and an hour long lunch is a giant waste of time anyhow, because of course in your Gen Y mind it makes so much more sense to just work 8 hours straight and cut out at 4, but NO that's not allowed.

see? i told you it ain't easy livin' in this head.

TMI. (an unpleasant post.)

i have to go to the doctors today, and i am in such a tizzy because of it. i am terrified of the lady doctor. not just your average hey-that's-uncomfortable-and-kind-of-sucks feeling, but ab-so-fucking-lutely terrified. as in, i cry before during and after. as in, i take multiple ativan prior to being violated. as in, i hate going more than anything. as in, my last appointment was 5 years ago, i hate it so much.

and yet, i am trying hard to be an adult. i am trying to learn the value of preventative medicine, and am attempting to go to the doctor before anything seems serious.

on the other hand. i am totally convinced that i have cancer, and that the only thing that these tests are going to reveal is cancer, with maybe some other cancer-esque side dish as a bonus.
and besides all that, the appointment itself is torturous. your legs are in stirrups, for fucks sake, while your most private area is being probed and violated with an instrument I can only liken to something from the Spanish Inquisition. boys - do you know what a speculum is? no? look it up, right now. I dare you. yeah, thats right. we're not fuckin' around. now imagine that metal instrument de torture being poked in your holiest of holies, all in the name of medicine. NO. THANK. YOU.

now i see why so many men have convinced themselves that their appointment w/ Dr. Finger isn't at age 30, but at 40. I don't blame ya, dudes. avoid invasive "medicine" for as long as possible...

as if you needed more proof that I'm a crazy cat lady...

i went to a party the other night where there were more kids than adults. i think my sister and i were the only females in attendance who hadn't squeezed one out yet. it was slightly disconcerting.

but, to tell you the truth, i got home and had two sweet kitties sniffing and cuddling me- and i was totally content.

romping around...

i don't know who can pull off that Romper crap, but it sure as shit isn't me.

not only was the thing totally up my butt (standing still mind you - i imagine that had i bent over to pick something up, or done something totally active, like, oh i don't know, BLINK, that it would have ripped me in two - business end first) but throw a tool belt on me and i look like i'm about to go assist with some house building. or, add a goofy hat and some roller skates and i can deliver those burgers and shakes to your car, sir. would you like fries with that?

i guess you just have to be one of those daddy-long-legs broads to look great in a romper. girls with freakishly long torsos who buy their jeans in the *short* section Need Not Apply.

a martha-stewart kind of weekend...

last weekend i caught the crafty-1950's-housewife bug, and all of a sudden i was pinning and stitching, chopping and grilling, wearing an apron and whipping up dishes like the atomic bomb was on it's way. i even hosted my sister and sears for 4th of July fun in the evening.

here are some pictures of selected weekend projects...

mushroom-swiss buffalo burgers


strawberry shortcake
(i only made the compote. angels food mini bundt cakes are a little out of my league...)


i have officially dubbed my sangria *best on the west coast* (humble, i know.)
and YES, that is fresh grown basil from my patio garden as garnish. thank you for noticing.



two-hour tote bag
(my name for it. the book suggested *one-hour*, but obviously that's just crazy talk. i had to make handles, for fuck's sake!)
the bag is a birthday gift. here's to hoping the recipient isn't one of my 4 readers.


pS - i've been totally useless since then. house-wifing is exhausting!