Our TV is now a gigantic monitor. The keyboard and the mouse are wireless and the desk is the couch. For some, you're thinking--sweet-- for others, like me, you're wondering how that even works. Well, it has taken me forever to get used to it and I hated it at first. Just figuring out how to work a new TV remote (yes, he got his big TV) could require one to take a six week workshop. Nevermind figuring out how to switch from TV to the PC, back to TV, to DVD, RGB, HDMI, and blickety black. Then somehow we got a virus, which of course is my fault, so now I'm on some old laptop that The Husband's mom gave him. It's a dinosaur. I'm learning how to type on this tiny little keypad and the result is that it looks like a drunk orangutan has gotten hold of my computer. It happens more then you would think.
I shall not complain though. I can finally get back online, even if my wireless connection just quits workly constantly. Like my dryer. And my wits end.
The Husband tells me that it must be a user error. Which is his answer for everything being the Software Tester/Engineer Genius that he is.
I'll give you all a little update because I feel like a schmuck for not doing so and even worse for not being able to respond to all your emails. I read every single one. I try to keep up. But I just haven't been able to respond as often as I'd like. I didn't set out to intentionally just drop away the last few months. However, between living my crazy life and a long, dark winter accompanied by mild depression I just sort of needed to drop away and go into survival mode. It's not you, it's me.
I've mentioned we have a new TV. Cause, you know, TVs are an important part of a man's life and he's only been pining for a big screen for years. He settled on a 50 inch HD plasma flat screen. Size does matter. I don't want to hear about TVs ever again. I have my camera, he has his TV, we're even. Only I never have time to learn how to use my DSLR whereas the TV has been on since it came out of the box. What would life be like without hockey, boxing, and let's not forget, Ninja Warrior? I wish I knew. Although, watching reruns of Northern Exposure in HD is rather cool. Not to mention how bitchin' the Food Network and HGTV looks in 50 inches of HD. Paula, Giada, and Bobby are like totally in my livingroom now and they don't care that it's messy or smells like dog.
The kids never got to go to the Christian Retreat that weekend. We ended up not having the money. How's that for priorities? It was before T.R. (Tax Return) And it hopefully showed us why we have to GET BACK into preparing for things AHEAD of time. Procrastination is bad kids. Just say no. Have I ever mentioned that I met The Husband in a high school accounting class? Go figure.
I finally gave my two week notice two weeks ago, but somehow my boss thinks that if I take a two week break I can get myself orgranized again and back into a routine so I can come back. Um, no. I've been there two weeks too many. For the money I make, it's not worth coming home at 11:30pm or later two nights a week. I can't get up in the morning, I'm rushing our school work on the days that I work, and the repetitive motions are driving me nuts. I feel like a robot and not one of the hot ones in Stepford Wives.
Hi, did you enjoy your meal? How was everything? Would you like anything else? Do you need a receipt? I'm too smart for that crapola.
I like most of the people that I worked with, I really do, which made it hard to leave. But I'm not there for friends. I was there to help supplement our income when The Husband wasn't getting overtime. And now he is. Working in a resturant was crazy and I'm getting too old for other people's crazy.
On Easter Sunday, which I didn't work--thank God--some kid or perhaps a woman wearing a skirt and a thong,
'We're sorry you stepped in doo doo in your new $200 pumps while in our store. Here's a coupon, hope you'll come again.
That's just another day at work. I do enough of that at home. The sick thing is, I bet there will be copy cat acts popping up all over in the area. Yep. Someone will have Jr. whizelate on the floor and then push him into the mess. "Oopsie' I falled in to someone's pee pee. Can I have slippers and fish fry?
Just the other day I watched a mother complain that the Indiana store doesn't have peels on the fried apples or pickles on the burgers. She was so unhappy that she wasn't going to pay. She wasn't even eating a burger! Her kid ordered it and she took the burger right away from the kid in order to avoid paying. Funny how the woman got halfway done with her own meal though. It "ruined" the taste of the burger for her five year old. So she said. That's odd, considering her child didn't mind practically eating the paper menu, her own hair and several unmentionables from her own nose. Or maybe the kid is just so hungry from her weirdo mom pranking every resturant she visits that she has no choice but to gnaw on anything she can get her hands on. It was 45 minutes after closing and the blitch was picking over ten cent candies. I wanted to bludgen her.
They don't pay me enough to deal with that. I always meant to post about the craziness, but it wasn't worth fighting withw the computers.
For those emailing about Vinny. He is doing very well. Although he himself takes to occassionally crapping on the floor. He's so cute that I overlook this annoyance. His new favorite thing is sleeping under the covers and snuggling up as close as he can get. He's by far The Husband's dog, but at night when he's sweepy sweepy, he wants me. I must be the warmer of the two, which only reminds me that I'm still thirty pounds overweight. He only lubs me for my chubbyness. He can walk on his hind legs and he can now stay while waiting for a treat. For those of you who have Boston Terriers, you know how much they fart. The dog has chronic gas. He gets so bloated I begin to look for a string to tie to his three quarter inch tail when he floats away. But he gets relief when he farts loud and often. It comes in handy when you want to blame your own smells on someone else, but most of the time he's clearing the room. And not only does he fart loud, but he's scared of his farts. He jumps up and panics and begins to look around as if to ask, "Does anyone else here that? Something loud is barking at my ass. I felt it. It's trying to get me!! There it goes again!!" I do it all the time.
Then he jumps and runs away to hide somewhere. "Vinny, it's just gas. Knock it off and get back into bed. Nothing is trying to get you."
Even though he's stinky, he doesn't roll his eyes or talk back.
The Children were all baptized this sunday. It was such a blessing. I wish the pictures turned out better but I didn't have enough time to practice choosing the best settings for movement and reflection of light. I shall have to post about the baptism and upload pictures. Oh, and there weren't any gremlins coming out of them. My grandma embarrassed me though in church by loudly proclaiming that the pastor should dunk them under twice and hold them down for good measure. We were in the first row. Need I say, that the only ones who speak louder then children under eight years of age are old people? And now I've been officially mortified by both.
Oh, and I can't forget LiL' J is now seven. His birthday fell on Good Friday this year and he took it as a positive omen. He told me, "Guess what?! I'm the luckiest boy in the world. My great-grandma is coming out, my birthday is on Good Friday, I have a half day, I get spring break, and I'm getting bapatized on Easter!"
Gotta go, the dog is peeing on the chair.