30 September 2007

Somedays are lovely Sundays

Gabriel was fantastically well-behaved this weekend. He used the potty, he kept his room neat, he was incredibly sweet, etc. etc.
Friday was our first annual company picnic. 5 of the 7 of us showed up, so I guess that's a success? It was nice, I love my job, as I think I may have mentioned. Friday night I fell asleep putting Gabriel down...I'm a winner?
Saturday was gorgeous, Stella and I rode our bikes down to farmer's market (I cut the jesus out of my ankle, but otherwise the ride went well). We took the boys to the park, and it was all around lovely. I got some errands done and restored semi-order to my house, and my cousin Lisa kept an eye on Gabriel in the evening for me. I had a friend over, and I got to pretend that I hadn't spent the whole day watching Elmo's Potty Time.
Sunday was again nice and relaxed. I got my TV jerry-rigged so I actually get the network channels, watched most of a pretty dismal 49ers game, Gabe played with Leo for a bit in the afternoon.
All in all, I really liked my weekend.

I hear that my dad's step-dad isn't doing that great, so I think I may go down to visit next weekend.

28 September 2007

On following through with responsibilities

K was supposed to take Gabriel to school this morning. Normally, he gets to my house between 6:45 and 7:00; I have to leave at 7:15, but he'll hang out for a while longer than that getting Gabe ready, etc.

At 7:05 I start calling K to ask him where he is.

At 7:15 (p.s. the time I have to LEAVE FOR WORK) he text messages me, saying that he's with his friend in the hospital, he can't come get Gabriel, sorry. Well I'm really sorry that his friend's in the hospital. That really REALLY sucks. But he's been there for a few days, so this wasn't a big surprise. And I understand if K wants to stay with his friend. I think that's great. But he could have called me. At 6:30. Or 6:45. Or even at 7:00. Calling me to tell me that you won't be PICKING UP YOUR CHILD when I HAVE TO LEAVE FOR WORK is really irresponsible.

So I had to rush Gabriel into getting ready, drive him to his daycare (in the opposite direction of work, in case you were wondering) and settle him in there. Which means I left Chico at 7:40. And I don't think there's anything wrong with me being TOTALLY PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW.

I guess K can't take Gabriel to school in the morning any more. I mean, it was nice that I wasn't so rushed in the morning, but if I can't count on him to be there to take care of his child, then there's no point.

27 September 2007

Why I'm not a writer

Can I create a thoughtful and well designed self-guided research project with little-to-no effort?

Yes.

Can I write a paper on an assigned topic in under 24 hours, and get at least a "B"?

Yes.

Can I create works of criticism, analyzing that work already done by others?

Yes.  I am a very good student.

Yet, these tasks come at a level of effortlessness that often leave me wondering, what would I be if I could pay attention to one person/place/thing for more than 7 minutes? What if I was motivated to expend any kind of effort? At all?

I often joke around, telling people I have ADD. By this time most of my friends have taken me aside to have a candid conversation about seeking help, possibly seeking medication, for what is an obvious disorder. Somebody's thinking about doing it right now. By the end of the day, some new person will have sent me an email or a comment or a message on MySpace that's like, look babe, I love you, but you need to learn how to focus. And let me just tell all of those well meaning friends and acquaintances: I KNOW.

By all accounts, if I read the description, I think "Yeah, obviously, I have ADD." And yet.

I have no problem reading an 800 page book from cover to cover stopping only to pee, or doing the Sunday Crossword, or cataloging, or working on jigsaw puzzles, or with systematically putting my photos in exact chronological order. I can spend HOURS focusing on things in which I have a genuine interest.

And once I decided to be good at school, I was really, REALLY good at it. I'll admit that if I'm taking a class pass/fail, I never get better than the required C+; to do more would be to overextend myself. If I'm being graded on a curve, I only do well enough to ensure that I have the highest grade in the class. As a general rule, I avoid classes that I find to be a bit more challenging. I only took college level calculus under extreme duress and urgings from my bossy mother, and even then since it was graded on a curve (should any MATH class ever be graded on a curve? NO!), I stopped going after I got the highest grade on the midterm--there was no way I could get less than a B, why try to learn what they were trying to teach? It wasn't worth it.  
So I'm not sure it's an attention problem I have. Rather, I have diagnosed myself with a disturbing lack of drive, tempered only by my intensely competitive nature. My motivation extends as far as doing better than everyone else. That means if I'm in a classroom full of morons, I am only capable of pushing myself far enough to outperform all of them. And this is my BIGGEST personality flaw.

It's worse than being selfish, or cocky, or insensitive. At times I can be all of these things, and they all negatively affect my relationships with other people. But this affects my relationship with mySELF. That sucks.

My second and related problem is that I cannot stand being judged by others. Actually, I think they're more than related; they're pretty much the same problem in two parts. To try my hardest and fail would set me up for judgment of the worst kind. As long as I'm not really trying, I don't know how good I COULD be. If I put 100% into something, and didn't get it, I would have to face that failure. As it is, there's no knowing what my potential is, and that feeling of invincibility is intoxicating.

Anyways, I am actually going somewhere with this.

I like to think I'm a good storyteller, and maybe even a good writer, and more than a few people have told me that they would love to see me write fiction or seriously apply myself to writing autobiographically.  And there's a reason that I never do.  To embark on that journey would would mean that I lay myself out raw for the inspection and criticism of others. Research and critical writing don't involve any sweat from me; reading what I've deduced about the state of digital technology does not open myself up for public flaying. But fiction and autobiography do, because they mean writing things that come entirely out of my own head, which opens my head up for judgment.  I'm afraid of finding out that what's going on up there is actually a bunch of garbage.

This blog is autobiographical, yes, but it comes in short doses, and I'm not tied to any sort of central plot line or theme.  I started this site as a sort of my experiment in "Can I hold the interest of others?". And what I've learned is that I can't hold my own interest for long enough to find out. So that sucks.

26 September 2007

It's Wednesday and I'm STILL scatterbrained as all hell

I recently found out that I am the Master of Ceremony's at our upcoming graduation. It was mentioned in this casual offhanded way when we were going over the program.

"Well you're the MC Jennifer, so you'll get up first to say a few words."

I stopped listening....Right there. I'm not so much known for being articulate in the liveaudioworld. I get nervous and sweaty and I stutter and I have this really obnoxious laugh, and a llama possessed by Satan could give a better speech than me. Although in all fairness I guess that anything possessed by Satan could probably give a pretty compelling speech.

I have some truly adorable video footage of my son, but blogspot is foiling every attempt I've made to upload it. I tried about 15 times yesterday before I issued my official "fuck it" judgment. You guys will just have to believe me when I tell you that Gabriel saying "More milk please mama?" is the cutest thing on the planet. Cuter than that poster of the kitten hanging from the telephone wire with "Hang in there!" printed on the bottom.

I'm trying to figure out when I should go down to my parents' house again. I was down Labor Day weekend, and waiting until Thanksgiving to visit would just be so....uncharacteristic of me.

A couple of recurring annoyances are coming into play, trying to prevent my Thursday visit to Sacramento, but I think I shall persevere. I ate about half of a coffee cake yesterday, which was a really great idea. Gabriel went to school today wearing his new skeleton pajamas underneath one of my t-shirts (turquoise, scoop neck), his blankie and his boots. Oh and I didn't get him into the bath last night, and he has dreadlocks now. Full-on dreadlocks. Please, please K, we NEED to cut his hair. We can let it grow out again, but he needs help!

25 September 2007

I think you know who you are

I haven't called you much for the past three months because I'm not particularly interested in being your friend. I've found that we don't really have too much in common, and, while you seem nice, and I like your baby, we're operating on TOTALLY different levels as far as managing our lives/children/intellect/etc.

But you got in touch with me. You'd recently broken up with your live-in boyfriend, the father of your child who had been supporting you financially for the past two years. Well I know you don't have many female friends, and I've been there. Recently. And I really DO try to be a good, caring person, so I've been going out of my way to reach out to you, make sure you're doing alright, talk to you sometimes.

I don't have much time, because I work in Oroville, and I like to spend my free time with my son, or if he's with his dad, I like to get away from Babyville, so I haven't seen you much. I came over on Sunday. You bribed me with the very generous offer of your washer/dryer; apparently word got out about me being a laundry whore.

And what do you tell me when you get there? Honestly, I'm still in shock.

That you haven't been much interested in being MY friend for the past few months, because you were upset about my decision to leave K. I know you were trying to say that now that you're in the same boat, you're more forgiving, but excuse me. I don't need you to be.

The fact that you could POSSIBLY presume to know anything about what goes in a relationship when you are not IN THE RELATIONSHIP just shows an enormous amount of immaturity and lack of insight on your part. When I broke up with K did I come to you for advice? Did I cry on your bedroom floor? No. I told you that I had broken up with my boyfriend, that things were not working out, that we were both a lot happier. What you read into that? I have no idea. What you should have read into it? That I had broken up with my boyfriend, that things were not working out, and that we were both a lot happier. And if you didn't see the reasons on the surface, your natural assumption should have been that I hadn't TOLD you why we broke up, not that there IS NO REASON why we broke up.

Use your brain. I'm hoping that head of yours is more than just a hat stand.

Anyhow, it's taken me a day or two to process the exact enormity of how insulting your statements to me were. At the time they just brushed the surface, I could sort of laugh it off, and when you said it, I honestly wasn't that mad. Then yesterday I was pretty pissed off. Today I've come to the conclusion that I really never wish to speak to you again. It's certainly not worth my time and effort to reach out to someone who judges so baldly. Aren't you a Christian? Aren't you NOT supposed to judge others?

Anyways, I don't have time for you. And I'm done.

24 September 2007

All wound up scatterbrained not quite ready for bed

I ate about 4000 calories worth of brie tonight, but it was worth it. However I do have to apologize to my kind host for being such a bitch; I'm very sexually frustrated right now, and it's making me sort of testy.

Stella and I are going down to Sac Thursday for adventuring. I'm curious to meet this new boy of hers, she seems pretty sprung.

I bought a hula hoop online last Friday, thank you Julia. At least the shipping was free. I also bought a superhero cape for Gabriel. In my defense, I was the ONLY person in the ENTIRE BUILDING WHICH IS THE COLLEGE WHERE I WORK on Friday afternoon, and shopping online made me feel a bit less lonely. Especially considering that I knew my mom was waiting at my house for me to get off. Luckily when the other campus found out I was there alone, slowly driving myself insane, I got to go home a half hour early. And that was really, really nice.

I have to get enough sleep tonight, to make up for the fact that I am willfully depriving myself of sleep on Thursday, so I guess I'm out.

My dad named the puppy Earl, which was my suggestion

Friday my mom came up to visit me. We went out to dinner Friday night with Stella, Leo, Lisa and Jake. We went to the Sicilian Cafe and had the WORST. WAITRESS. EVER. She wasn't rude, but she was completely inept, and screwed up every SINGLE order. But then, we were highly obnoxious, with our two screaming toddlers, so it sort of evened out.

Saturday my mom and I went out to buy me presents! For my birthday! First we went to the farmer's market. And found a puppy. This severely curtailed my mom's visit, since it meant she had to drive her puppy home right quick and in a hurry.

But. I got a new digital camera (which could be very dangerous). And I got four new towels (to make up for the fact that three of my towels turned themselves into rags within a week). And my mom brought me some new shirts and a new book and avocados off of the avocado tree and my watch and my glasses that I left there the last time I was visiting (so I can see again! and I know what time it is!).

It's cold all of a sudden. Luckily I have sweater tights and SEVERAL winter coats. Because I can't figure out that I live in CA, apparently.

20 September 2007

What kind of a message is this?

So my work paid for everyone to get Costco memberships, and we all got Costco totes full of stuff, plus there was a drawing, and one person would win something extra. Well it all got shipped here from ID today, and I hand out the totes, and give one of the Instructors the box with the prize he one. From my tote I pull out:
  • paper towels
  • batteries
  • water
  • chocolate chips
One of the instructors asks if we get hand lotion too. The instructor who won the extra prize pulls it out of the box--a giant scented candle.

19 September 2007

Gabriel's girlfriend

Miss Leila Faith:
Gabriel riding a tiny, tiny tricycle

Maybe my dad should have had his boys first

Before my family started systematically eliminating the x-chromosome from humanity, my father came from a family with 4 older sisters, 3 nieces and an aunt as his relations. Then he had two girls, and things seemed pretty dim. So he focused all of his incredible athleticism, fanaticism and enthusiasm on his daughters.

The result: My sister actually possesses a reasonable amount of innate skill. She quit playing softball after she broke her wrist when she was 13, but as far as actually being able to PLAY and WIN, she gets the title. I on the other hand am severely lacking
in such athletic abilities as hand-eye coordination, grace, power, endurance, aim, etc. Basically, I played basketball for 9 years and I can't dribble or shoot, I played little league and I can't hit the ball if it bounces off my bat, I played 3 years of high school volleyball and I can barely get my serve over the net. I suck. But what I lack (and oh how I lack) in talent, I make up for with genuine appreciation as a fan. I'm one of the people that yells at the TV when I'm watching football.

And where does that leave us today?

I have had a simply spectacular year with spectator sports. For one thing all of my years watching the Warriors lose finally paid off, and I got to hop up and down last spring while I watched the playoffs. Being a Giants fan is still depressing, but I DID get to go to the SF/NYY game this summer and watch them win! Against the Yanks! From six rows off home plate! In seats owned by the general manager! (BTW if you ever get the chance go to a Giants game with my dad, he'll hook you up). And now, now I am going to USC's home game in November, courtesy of my best friend and season ticket holder, Miss Julia Jane. And I just might be able to work in the USC/UCLA game, in exchange for my first born. Gabriel likes her, so that should be fine.

Anyhow, I'll be in LA the first weekend of November. We shall be out and jubilant, as I'm sure we shall also be victorious.

tuesdaywednesdaythursday

I finally have my bike back in working order, so I went for a ride with Stella last night. Unfortunately I think we forgot how early it's getting dark these days, and by the time we got back night had fallen, and neither one of us have lights.

Ever since I abandoned the idea of GABRIEL EVER SLEEPING IN HIS OWN BED EVER AGAIN, he's been very easy at night, and he went right to sleep. Stella toyed with the idea of staying over at my house with Leo, but, well, have you met Leo? So I lent her my car so she could go home and sleep, and come back in the morning so I could go to work. And lucky thing too, because when I woke up this morning K was asleep on my couch, frightening the bejeezus out of me.

Sheena's bribing me with dinner and laundry services tonight, which will be just lovely. And I'm bringing Gabe, which is good because Leila misses her boyfriend--it's been at least a month. I adore Leila because of the strangely calming effect she has on my son; when she's around, a fog of peaceful bliss blankets his mind, and everything is....easy. I don't know WHY Sheena adores Gabriel, who is by all accounts insane. The only thing I can come up with is that she thinks I'm okay, and we pretty much come as a package deal.

I'm riding my bike down to Thursday Market tomorrow, if anyone would care to join or meet up, it's one of the last of the year.

18 September 2007

I fell down the stairs this morning

About half a flight of concrete stairs, onto the cement, holding my purse, Gabe's diaper bag, my lunch, Gabriel's shoes, oh yeah, and a sleeping Gabriel himself all bundled up in a blankie.

My knee is scraped, my elbow is skinned, my palms are bloody and my ankle is sore.

My skirt is smudged and my sweater is ripped.

My hair is frazzled and my fingernails are dirty.

I thought I got to work late, but it turns out I usually get to work early, and today I was on time.

Gabriel found this to be an incredibly traumatizing way to start his morning, and I consequently had to spend extra time at daycare snuggling him, and let him bring his blankie in with him, and let him have an extra cup of milk, but otherwise he appears uninjured. Apparently I instinctively hurt myself more to keep him from getting hurt at all, which is good.

17 September 2007

PICTURES FROM MY BIRTHDAY!!

These are in NO ORDER AT ALL, enjoy.

Gabriel in my purse:

Licking Julia, I like the guy in the background:

Gabriel in his robe:

Deep in conversation?:

Julia found glasses:

All of us out:

Humping my friends:

Extremely hungover at the airport:

Asleep on Gabriel's bedroom floor:

Gabriel wearing his backpack:

Stella's yawning?

Julia doublefisting and looking evil:

Helping Stella fall down:

16 September 2007

I've been spending an inordinate amount of time getting obscenely drunk lately

Keith came to visit yesterday, which was quite fun, except that I drank about a bottle and a half of wine, and said all sorts of things. I'm glad he came though, twas lots of fun.

Of course, since I've moved out, y'all may have noticed that I've been drinking ENTIRELY too much, due to my new found freedom, extremely hightened stress levels, occasional babyless evenings, and I'm sure all sorts of else. So I've decided (deep breath here) that I'm only allowed to drink one night a week, and I'm putting up a self-imposed two drink limit if I'm at home, four drinks if I'm out, and by out I mean OUT.

Plus I figure that drinking less may also help me lose what I can no longer call my baby weight, because my baby is A CHILD. A child who spent much of today trying to get his color wonder markers to show up anywhere ANYWHERE at all besided his color wonder paper, because what's the point of coloring if you can't draw on the walls? Haha! I won again!

14 September 2007

16 Things to Say to 16 Different People

  1. You're not THAT great, get over yourself.
  2. You use men to validate yourself. You sleep with people to make yourself feel better. You compete to win with your friends so that you can feel superior to them. That's really fucked up, and you're a really sad person.
  3. The sex is never good if one person doesn't want to have sex, and yes, this IS about you.
  4. I can't tell you some of my deepest, darkest secrets, because I'm afraid of you judging me, and I love you too much to have you judge me.
  5. I'm not a child, but I can behave like one. If you try to boss me around, I promise I will act like a two year old and do the exact opposite. Let me live my life and get over it.
  6. Yes, I think you're a turboslut.
  7. I avoid you because I don't want to be your friend. You're needy and oh-so-very-unintelligent. If I want to have a conversation with an amoeba, I'll go find one in my bathroom. It's a lot less effort.
  8. I know I like you a lot, and I'm pretty sure it's mutual, and that's really, really scary, so I'm just going to leave you alone.
  9. I'm really NOT mad. To be mad, I would have to have some kind of emotional investment in what's going on. Am I irritated? Sure. But I'm NOT upset, and I'm not just being that girl who says she's not upset when she really is. Trust me. I'm not upset.
  10. You're a prude, a know-it-all, and a bitch. And you're not always right. Often, you're wrong.
  11. I think you single handedly ruined one of best friendships I've ever had, and all to make a guy feel like shit--why?
  12. I'm not friends with you anymore because: You are horribly insecure, when we were friends you would copy EVERYTHING, you have a drug problem that I can't really get past, you drink WAY too much, you talk about me behind my back to my best friends, and when I needed you the most, you went out of your way to stab me in the back. So please, stop trying to get in touch with me.
  13. If I thought we could get it on and still be good friends afterwards, I'd totally be there.
  14. I'm not emotionally available right now. I know I used to be, and I miss you too, but I can't be there if you have a breakdown.
  15. You. Are. Crazy.
  16. I want to be adored, and I don't think that's too much to ask. Pleasured and adored.

Gabriel looking like a girl, plus a couple other pics


Gabriel insisted on wearing my shirt the other day:

Yes, his dad has REALLY ugly feet:


This is what the sun looked like this morning:


Here we have the precise color of my eyes:

A story in several parts

Part I

"So he never called you back?"

"Nope."

"Have you called him again?"

"I don't have time to call someone who doesn't want to call me, and I really DON'T care."

"Well aren't you mad?"

"Not really. I mean. It's rude or whatever, but no, I'm not MAD."

"Well don't you think you should say something? Like at least about that being rude? I would say something. I would definitely say something, because that's fucked up."

"Look, I really don't care, it wasn't that big of a deal to begin with."

"I'm just saying, when people are rude to me, I think they deserve to be told that they are rude. I think you should definitely say something. It's a matter of self respect"

"Fine, maybe I'll say something."


Part II

The problem with me, is that my natural bedtime is at around 4:00am. Motherhood pushed that bedtime up a couple hours and worked a nap into my day. So waking up at 6-630am? Has been tough. So having Gabriel wake up at 4:00, throw a tantrum and stay up till 5:30? Yeah, I'd say that throws my whole "morning routine" a touch out of wack. One day? Maybe. A whole week? It's been a tough week. I've been trying to go to bed at like 9:30, just in CASE Gabriel decides that he wants to wake up at an unnatural hour when every creature on the planet wants to be in bed, and cry.


Part III

"What ever happened with you two?"

"I dunno, we just stopped hanging out I guess."

"Why?"

"Because I stopped making an effort."

"Jen, he's really sweet."

"Yeah, he is. But I don't want-"

"A meaningful relationship with another human being?"

"Well, no, not right now."

"That's really fucked up."

"No it's not."

"You're ruining your chances."

"Oh god you sound like somebody's mother. Not mine, but somebody's."


Part IV

"YOU are a whore."

"I spent the last THREE years in a monogamous relationship where I was the only one practicing monogamy. HOW does that make me whore?"

"Because when you haven't been in relationships, you sleep around."

"First of all, the definition of NOT being in a monogamous relationship sort of IS sleeping around. Either that or not having sex at all. And if I were a man you wouldn't think twice. AND I'm safe. AND AND, why is it such a problem that I like sex. Why is that bad? I sort of think it's a good thing. AND I'M NOT EVEN REALLY SLEEPING AROUND! Noncommittal sex and sleeping around are NOT the same thing. GAH!"

"I'm just saying, you're a whore."

"Thanks. You're sweet."


Conclusion

My friends think that I'm a whore who's throwing her "good years" away having fun, are unnecessarily talking me into CREATING drama with boys, and I am oh so woefully sleep deprived. Those all tie together slightly more, but you'll have to ask me for the details in person.

12 September 2007

10 September 2007

I'll do the details now, pictures once I get them

I picked Julia up from the airport Friday night.

Back at my apartment, she experimented with a glass of tequila and a jar of honey. Results were mixed.

I tried to drink some wine, but it smelled like vomit. So I drank some different wine.
Saturday, I bought the most fantastic silver shoes, which filled another hole in my shoe wardrobe.

I also bought a shirt, some sunglasses and a new bra, but that was all less exciting, when compared with the shoes.

We went over to Stella's to go out, bringing with us my new favorite mixed drink, Vanilla Stoli and ginger ale. It tastes like an cream soda.

Jayme came over for drinks, which was nice, because I miss Jayme. Working full time has cut into my social life.

Darci, Stella, Julia and I went out. Highlights included:
  • The fact that even with something as simple as a vodka cranberry, James makes a superior drink
  • A man coming up to me, stroking my right shoulder, and telling me that it is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. Not the left one though.
  • Being the oldest people at The Bear
  • Julia making out with a 21 year old
  • Me possibly making out with a 19 year old. I don't remember and no one has visual evidence/memory
  • The bouncer trying to kick Julia, Darci and I out of La Salles. While her husband the bartender is telling him not to.
  • Stella's "after party"
And now some facts about that:
  • Julia and I were at Jack's in need of a ride. Called Stella, she said she'd "take care of it." We're outside, a random car pulls up, some guy calls my name, we get in. Good decision? Probably not. As I'm thinking it might be a bad decision, I wonder aloud, "Who the FUCK'S car are we in?" Julia shushes me, and the man in the passenger seat asks me to put on my seat belt.
  • Well this was our ride, we get back to Stella's. She's walking around her house in her shirt and a thong, which was really quite priceless.
  • Julia goes to bed at around 4. I don't go to bed. Stella doesn't really.
So the next morning, on no sleep at all, we go to breakfast, (with the babe). Then thank god K had a company picnic to take Gabriel to, and Julia and I went down to Sacramento to bring the trip to a close.

06 September 2007

Birthday Pics

Happy Birthday to Me!



Jayme made me cake!


Which was delicious



Stella even put some in her water...


04 September 2007

How to ruin bathtime...

Ever since it was brought to my attention that I'm basically rubbing semen on my face every morning and night, washing my face just hasn't left me with that clean, happy feeling that I've come to appreciate. However, having my son unscrew the top of my face wash, drop a tub crayon in, and screw the top back on again really destroyed any feeling of "fresh" that I may once have had. Because Cetaphil is not supposed to be pink. And I wonder why I've been breaking out so much lately.

I promise I won't try to give anything away

I finished the last Harry Potter book over the weekend. I thought it was one of the better ones. Action packed, really good plot, nicely wraps up the series, good character development, not too much obnoxious previous plot review (a personal pet peeve of mine--ooh alliteration!). I think we can all agree that the Goblet of Fire was the major low point in the series, for one thing they spend like 100 pages at the Quiddich World Cup FOR NO REASON AT ALL, and for another there's too much stupid and poorly written romance and for ANOTHER thing, if you're going to have a book go over 700 pages, you need to make sure that it really doesn't drag. My second least favorite Potter book is the Order of the Phoenix, which, I'm sorry, really lacks in many, many departments. I read all of the books, and I liked them, I just liked those two the least.

That said, I had none of those complaints with this book. It only slightly dragged and only in two places, which I won't mention in case you haven't read it yet. Although I would like to discuss some minor inconsistencies, so who else has finished it?? Probably everyone, it's been out for a while....Anyhow, it won't disappoint.

03 September 2007

Phlegm is delightful

This weekend this weekend. I went down to Santa Cruz, and spent two glorious days at the beach, playing with all of the kiddos. Then Gabriel and I got sick.

I was sort of teetering on the edge, but I went down to Sacramento last night, and then had to wake up before 5am to retrieve my baby, which it turns out was unnecessarily early. UNNECESSARY. I had fun though. Today I'm wrecked, and Gabey's sick. I don't know what I'm going to do about tomorrow and daycare--my plan is to drug him and drop him off, because I don't really have much choice.