The day Tripp and I came home from the hospital.

I’ve been fighting this “baby weight” for almost a year now and I’m doing okay, but it’s time to step it up a notch or two.  I’ve joined a challenge at the gym, and now I’ve joined the challenge Cool Zebras is holding!  The Aweigh challange seems fun and easy enough, and I’m looking forward to the giving and receiving of all the virtual support!

I know why I’m overweight right now.  It’s because I had babies.  And because I like food.  A lot.  Okay, fine.  It’s also because I like to be lazy.  I’ve been trying to work on all those things and when I weighed on Monday I really saw some results!

I knew I had lost some weight the first couple of weeks of December because I was so busy with the move and all the cleaning.  But then, Christmas week and New Years week I was so bad!  I know I gained a little of the weight back but I was going to the gym and trying to get back on track. 

Monday I forced myself to go to the gym.  I weighed when I got there and had lost seven pounds!  I was shocked and energized to see such a big drop!  As I was working out I realized that means I’ve lost fifty pounds since I had Tripp!  I’m trying not to think about how much further I have to go but I’ll tell you anyway.  To get back to where I was when Thomas and I got married, I need to lose seventy more pounds.  I can’t believe how far I let myself go!  One thing I can say is I carry the weight pretty well.  It’s not like it’s all in my belly or my legs or whatever.  It’s spread out everywhere.  That’s actually pretty depressing too because it’s not like I can try to hide or camoflage one area.

Anyway, for the challenge, my goals this week are to keep a food diary and go to the gym four days instead of three.  I also want to do my extra floor exercises each time.  I do fifty crunches, fifty lower ab leg raises (or whatever you call them), and fifty butt lifts.  There’s a lot more I need to work on, but that’s a start for this week.

Here are some photos of me and my progress!  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

At Tessa’s birthday party last May

When it first started coming off a little.

Tessa took the picture and it gives me more of a double chin than I really have. Dammit.

I know, I know. I said I would start focusing on the positive and stop writing all these bitchy posts, but I can’t help it! I don’t know if maybe it’s just because I am a bitch or if there is something else wrong with me.  All I know is some days are more than I can handle. 

Is this how life is supposed to be?  Is this what all women, and especially mothers, put up with?  This isn’t right but for the life of me I don’t know how to fix it.

Thomas is the assistant manager and a chef at the local Japanese restaurant.  He works from 11am until 2:30pm, then from 4pm until 11 or 12 (or 1 or 2!)  Monday through Friday, and on Saturday it’s 3pm until usually 1am or 2am.  It’s hard enough to deal with missing him and staying up so late so I can see him.  But most of the time I feel like a single mom.  He’s not here to help me at all.  I have to do everything for the kids.  I know he hates his hours and that he does it so I can stay home with them but knowing that really doesn’t make it any easier.

Last night I made a really awesome shrimp dish for dinner and I sent him a text telling him how good it was and to make sure he didn’t eat too much at work because I wanted him to have some.  He didn’t get home until 2:00, though, because his boss wanted him to stay and have a beer or two with him.  I fell asleep on the couch waiting, and when he did finally get home, we went straight to bed.  I asked him if he was going to at least try the shrimp and he said he would the next day because he was too full.  It was shrimp!  I’m not comfortable with leftover shrimp!  And I was really proud of myself because I didn’t use any kind of recipe at all.  Not even as a jumping off point, you know?  And I stood there for an hour peeling and de-veining them, making sure to do enough so he would have plenty.  He did eat them today, but now I’m worried that he’ll have food poisoning and I’ll have to take of him for that, too.  He made me feel a little bit better because he kept saying how good it was, and that it was like having sex.

I guess meal-time is my main issue today.  We aren’t on a normal schedule for meals because of Thomas’ hours.  I get so frustrated because when I don’t cook, Thomas comes home hungry.  But when I do cook, half the time no one eats it.  Or the kids eat only the vegetables or only the meat.  And then they’re hungry again an hour or two later.  I always wait to throw out their plates until I’m sure they aren’t going to eat it, and every fucking time it happens. 

Tessa is bad about just eating a few bites, then saying she’s done.  I swear she hardly eats at all!  But then a little while later she’s hungry again.  I usually don’t cook enough food to have leftovers, so that leaves me having to cook something for her.  I try to get her to eat cereal or a pb&j sandwich, but she cries and begs for real food.

Noah sometimes eats two entire plates full, and still wants to eat again later.  But he wants cereal or a peanut butter sandwich or bread and butter.  All the unhealthy stuff.  I worry about his weigh because he’s already a little thick.  And I know he’s not hungry!  Maybe he’s bored or just wants the taste of it.

The worst thing that Thomas does, besides not eating when I cook, is he’ll call me right before he’s supposed to come home and ask me if I cooked anything.  So I’m supposed to just drop what I’m doing and figure out something to cook, get it defrosted, and get it tasting good.  (I know I’m spoiling him, but honestly, after he almost left me last year, I’m a little afraid to be anything but perfect.  I’ll email you a link if you don’t know what I’m talking about.  It’s from the old blog so I can’t put it here.  Just let me know in the comments.)  I cook breakfast at 10:00, and I don’t want to cook a big meal at 2:00.  I spend the morning cleaning the house.  Seriously, from 11-2 I’m busting my ass because it’s the only time I have to get it done.  I don’t have time to cook a real meal then. Plus, I have to go pick Noah up from school at 3:00. 

I don’t know.  There’s some solution to this problem.  I want to tell Thomas there’s no reason for me to cook for him.  After all, he does work in a restaurant.  I could give the kids sandwiches or something for lunch (Thomas doesn’t like sandwiches, by the way) and just cook dinner.  But I feel like I’m not being a good wife when I do that.  I’ve tried cooking enough food at lunch to feed the kids lunch and dinner, but they refuse to eat it the second time.  I’ve tried making super easy things like Hamburger Helper, but they’re so used to really good food that they don’t like it.  Between all the cooking and cleaning after cooking and snack making and cleaning that I’m exhausted. 

What do you do?  Do you cook three times a day?  I just can’t handle that!

Maritessa trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. I don’t think she caught a single one.

Noah playing Spyro

Tess playing Diego on the computer

Tripp quietly watching TV in Tessa’s room

Noah was eating chocolate ice cream, didn’t want to smile for the camera but I caught him

 

Let me start off by saying that I’m sorry and a little embarrassed about yesterday.  Heh.  I wasn’t myself.  Since I started this blog it’s been a little on the negative side, and I think writing about it all the time makes me feel a little worse.  So I’m going to be trying to find the funny again and take the stick out of my ass.  I’m not saying I’ll never write about what’s bothering me, but hopefully I won’t find as many things getting to me.

I went to the gym again this morning.  That’s two days in a row and I’m pretty proud of it.  I even joined some silly little competition they have going on right now.  One thing you have to do is keep a food journal.  Ugh.  I know it really does help, but I think I just don’t want to see what I’m really eating.  I also know that Brenda did it and lost 12 pounds.  So I’m going to bite the proverbial bullet, not more food, and start my stupid food journal. 

As bad as yesterday started, (and continued!) it ended up pretty good.  The kids were all fairly calm, for them anyway.  Noah played Spyro the Dragon on the Playstation, Tessa was playing Diego on the computer, and Tripp was watching Yo Gabba Gabba in Tessa’s room.  I had to take turns helping Noah and Tessa with their games, but at least I didn’t have to listen to the freak on YGG!  (…there’s a party in my tummy! Eek!)  I know the kids don’t need as much help on their games as they make out.  They like it when I’m helping them.  And I do it, even if I’m busy with something else because they like it so much.  And no, I don’t let them spend too much time playing video games.  Every so often I would go check on Tripp in Tessa’s room.  He was playing with toys and watching Noggin and being really good and really quiet.  Then, I walked down the hall to check on him and started smelling a strong peppermint odor.  I thought to myself, “What in the world is that?”  It really didn’t even occur to me it could be anything to do with Tripp, because Maritessa doesn’t like peppermint.  But as I got closer to her door, the smell became stronger!  I rushed into the room and found Tripp sitting near her vanity.  It was getting dark outside and the room was filled with shadows.  I could see something red all over Tripp’s face.  I was immediately filled with guilt as I rushed to him to see where he was hurt.  I never should have left him in there alone!  But as I reached him I realized he wasn’t crying.  He seemed very happy in fact and smiled hugely at me when I bent down to pick him up.

 

I touched his face to see what it was.  The thick, slippery, goo was instantly recognizeable as the peppermint flavored lipstick Tessa convinced me to buy for her from Bath and Body Works.

Go back and click on the video, dammit!  It’s only 30 seconds and it’s totally worth it!

Also, I’m still looking for anonymous posts for the Can We Talk? section!  Just write it out and email it to me at imfusspot[at]gmail[dot]com.  Anything that’s bothering you or that you need to get off your chest is good!  Get more details here.

I’m feeling blue today.  I keep telling myself that I’m not going to have a bad day, but it isn’t working.  I had high hopes for the day, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.  I just need to complain for a minute and get it off my chest.  I promise tomorrow I’ll try to write something funny.  But today I’m having a pity party and you’re all invited to join in.

I actually got some sleep last night.  We went to bed around midnight, and I think I went to sleep around 1:00.  Tripp slept all night for the first time in two or three weeks.  Tessa woke me up once for something to drink, but I was able to go right back to sleep.  If you know me from my old blog, you know sleep is a rare commodity for me.

Thomas set the alarm clock for me last night.  He was trying to be helpful, but it turns out either the volume was turned all the way down or he had the am/pm backwards because it didn’t go off this morning.  Luckily, I woke up at 7:00, which only put me thirty minutes behind schedule.  But I use that thirty minutes to wake up and have coffee and cigarettes and watch the news.  When I got up, I poked my head out the back door to smoke and saw that it was snowing a little.  At first I was thrilled.  I love the snow and we don’t get it very often down here in South Carolina.  But as the morning wore on and I caught the weather update from the local news, I realized it wasn’t going to stick.  School wasn’t cancelled or anything either.  It’s really disappointing.  The snow is falling prettily, but everything just looks rained on.  It’s sort of like making out with a really hot guy only to find out that he can’t get it up enough to do anything with.

Then I was calculating how much money I can spend at the grocery store.  Do you want to know what I came up with?  None.  I have no money left, maybe not even enough to cover quite all the bills.  And here’s the thing.  Thomas makes good money.  There’s no reason I don’t have any money.  I don’t even know where I spend it!  I know one problem is the convenience store.  I’ve been buying ephedrine again because it helps with my energy levels and appetite control.  I know it’s awful and I shouldn’t take it.  But sometimes it seems like the only way I can get everything done.  A box of 24 costs about $14.00 and I’m up to four or five pills every four hours or so.  God.  When I write that down it really makes me feel even worse about myself.  So anyway, I’ve been buying it every other day.  That works out to more than $200 a month.  Then add in cigarettes (a pack a day) and all the junk I buy for the kids.  And all the eating out and picking up fast food because I’m too lazy to cook half the time.  Or I haven’t been to the grocery store so it’s the only option.

And I’m feeling really, really fat and ugly today.  I haven’t been to the gym as much as I should since we moved.  There were a couple of weeks that I didn’t go at all.  I’ve been trying to get back in to it, but I think I’ve only been twice a week for the last two or three weeks.  Add in all the junk and it doesn’t paint a pretty picture.  Also, I’ve been really tired and achy so I haven’t even been moving around all that much at the house.  I’m pretty sure I gained a few pounds back.  Probably only three or so, but I’m going in the wrong direction and it’s another thing that makes me feel bad about myself.

I just want to be perfect.  Is that asking too much?  I don’t know why I’m so terrible with money.  Is it because my mom is and this is what she taught me?  I’m smart though.  Really smart.  So why am I too dumb to pay the bills like I’m supposed to and not spend money that I shouldn’t?  Wouldn’t a truly smart person also be able to make herself go to the gym?  And plan properly to avoid having to feed myself and my family fast food?  I just want to look good and do good with everything.  Some days it’s just too hard though.  And sometimes those days turn into weeks and then it’s even harder to pull myself back.

I’m sitting here typing and watching President Obama speak about hope.  About stopping things that aren’t working and expanding things that do.  He said “from this day forward” something about change and that everything is going to be okay.  (Sorry I can multitask, but not enough to remember real words.) 

So I’m lifting my chin and straightening my shoulders.  Enough with the pity party.  All I can do is change, right?

It’s going to be a great day. 

I stayed up late last night watching a movie with Thomas even though I was tired and knew I needed to go to bed.  But I didn’t go until sometime after 2:00 this morning.  So when Tripp started fussing at 6:45 this morning, I had a hard time with it.  He fussed and fussed and I couldn’t find his pacifier anywhere.  Sometimes feeling around with your eyes closed is not the best method.  I finally found it, but by then he was really pissed and wasn’t satisfied with it.  So I mumbled something to Thomas about having to “go make him a bottle or something,” and stumbled out of the bedroom.

I only have one nipple left for his bottle and I spent several minutes weaving drunkenly through the house trying to find the bottle.  I could hear Tripp freaking out in the bedroom, and was beginning to panic a little when I remembered it was in the dishwasher.

I forced the dishwasher door open (the latch is broken and I have to use both hands and all my strength to press it in enough to open it) and grabbed the nipple and the top of the bottle from the silverware holder on the bottom.  I slammed the rack back in and yanked out the top rack to get the Drop-In holder part of the bottle.  Of course, I forgot that the dishwasher isn’t attached to the counter properly, so it tilted forward and the open door squished my toes.  Muttering a few bad words, I pushed it back in place, slid the top rack back in, and shut the door.

I turned on the water to get it hot while I counted four scoops of formula into the bottle.  On the last scoop, I noticed I had spilled a little of the powder on the counter top.  I wondered why it is that I can’t make a bottle without spilling some.  It happens every single time!  You would think I’d have this figured out by now, since this is my third baby.

I dropped the scoop back into the can, snapped the lid on, and actually remembered to put it back in the cabinet.  With my eyes still half closed, I snatched up the bottle and put it in the flow of water from the tap.  Something was not right.  The bottle wasn’t filling the way it normally does.  I blinked to clear my eyes, and quickly figured out the problem.  I had forgotten to put the Drop-In plastic sleeve into the bottle.

And on my pretty, dark gray granite (laminate) counter sat a pile of pale, yellowish powdered formula.

Yep.  It’s going to be a great day.

I was planning to tell you about Thomas pissing me off yesterday.  I was mad all day, even hours after he apologized.  I was mad all the way until after he got home from work last night.  But we talked and now it’s been 26 hours since it first happened and I’m over it.

So I’m going to cheat and just post some photos for you.  Heh.  I know some of you are new to my blog (that could be because I just started this one.  Duh.) so here’s your chance to get to know my family a little.

I’m going to finish tweeking this site, and Can We Talk, in the time I’m saving by not giving you a real post.  The main thing I need to do is the blogroll on both, and adding in my Flickr thingie.  One problem, though, is I don’t remember how I did it on my old blog.  So if you know the old blog and know how the hell I did it, could you let me know?  Thanks.  Also, let me know if you want on my blogroll!  Seriously!

Okay.  Enjoy the photos!

Tripp hanging out in his chair, gnawing on his favorite rubber snake

Tessa pouring a drink for herself for the first time! She was fresh out of the tub in case you’re wondering about her hair.

Noah preparing for a future career in plumbing.

Noah mid on-purpose fall, and Tess mid-run. She takes my breath away.

Tessa as she asked if they could stay outside just a little longer

Thomas and Tessa this morning

I caught Tripp with a prism on his face. He was staring into it, fascinated by the colors and the brightness.

Tripp hanging out in his chair, gnawing on his favorite rubber snake

The last time I had a bubble bath was when I was about 7 months pregnant with Noah.  I specifically remember thinking it might be the last one for a long time.  I had been in the tub about five minutes when I heard someone knocking on the front door.  I struggled my huge pregnant self out of the tub, threw my robe around me and waddle-ran to the door.  Of course, by that time whoever it was had gone.

Last night I realized there’s no reason I can’t take a bubble bath now.  It was 9:00 and all the kids were sleeping and the house was clean.  I didn’t have anything else I had to do before the night was over.  I was a little hesitant, though, because I wasn’t sure if I could just lie there in the hot water for more than ten minutes.  After some nudging from my friends on Twitter I shook off the laziness and went into the bathroom.

I realized I didn’t have any bubble bath because Tessa had used the last half of the bottle a couple of days before.  I stared at the shampoo bottles for a moment considering, but then remembered I had a litte gift set of bath supplies that I had been saving for a special occasion.  While I tore off the plastic it occurred to me that I had been saving it for at least five years.  I took out the tiny bottle of Wild Honey bubble bath and tried to take the lid off.  I thought the cute little cork was sealed with wax, but after trying unsuccessfully to cut through it with a fingernail I realized it was hot glued on.  I wound up cutting the top half of the cork off trying to get through the glue, so I had to use my corkscrew to get it out.  I sniffed deeply of the scent.  And sniffed again… There was no Wild Honey smell at all!  I don’t know if it was because it was so old, or if it didn’t have much scent in the first place.  But that was okay.  I would still have bubbles.

I went back into the bathroom and started the water, then saw how dirty Noah had left the tub.  So I cleaned it then started the water again and dumped in the entire bottle of bubble bath.  I went to the sink to wash my face and by the time I was rinsing it I noticed the water wasn’t very warm at all.  I had already run out of hot water and the tub wasn’t even half full!

But I thought to myself it would do for a few minutes, pulled my hair up and stepped into the tepid mass of bubbles.  It felt nice on my feet, so I got in and tried to relax against the back of the tub.  My neck was bent at a very un-natural angle and my knees were sticking up.  It was then that I noticed how small our bathtub is.  This is like a kiddie sized thing!  There was no slope to the back end of the tub, no room to put my head back, and not enough hot water.

I tried to lie there anyway and make myself relax.  Then I noticed a spot under the faucet that I missed when cleaning.  And all the clutter of all my bottles on the shelves over the toilet.  Then the heater came on and while it’s usually quite warm in the bathroom, when you’re sitting in barely warm water, and your un-submerged skin it wet, it’s cold.  Really.

Thomas called after a few minutes and asked what I was doing.  I could practically hear the blood leave his head when I said I was taking a bubble bath.  I decided to go ahead and get out because he said he was on the way home.  There was no way I wanted him to see me actually in the tub.  He had images that were all about luxury and steam and sexiness.  In reality it was cramped and cold and so not sexy.  And while the hot sex later was great, I sure wish I could have had my hot bubble bath!

 

Don’t forget about the Can We Talk? section!  I need to post something over there!  Come on friends.  I know there’s something on your mind.  Are you worried because I’ll know who you are?  Open up a different email account.  It would only take a minute and you wouldn’t have to ever use it again.  Come on… please?

Open wide and say "Aaaaaaagh!"

 Since the day we brought Tripp home from the hospital, he has been a great sleeper.  He naps twice a day and he goes to bed at 7:45 every night.  Of course, I’ve had a little trouble getting him to sleep sometimes, even to the point of having to physically hold him down until he gave up and closed his eyes.  But the point is he always goes to sleep within thirty minutes.

Last night, though, I tried to put down some baby who was not my child at all.  He kicked and screamed, bit and pinched, hit me in the face and tried to push my arm away from him.  I tried to give him his bottle and he threw it.  I tried to give him his pacifier and it flew off the bed. 

I stuck it out for forty-five minutes and then decided to walk away.  I left him on the bed and I went to the living room.  Thomas could hear Tripp screaming still, so he asked me what I was doing.  I told him that on nights like this I leave him in the alone while I have a cigarette.  By the time I go back in there, he’s much more willing to go to sleep.  (Just so you know, I feel bad about doing that.  I worry that he’s scared.  But at some point he’s going to have to start going to sleep on his own anyway, so he might as well get used to it.)  So I had a cigarette and took a few deep breaths and went back into the bedroom.

 

Tripp was crying at the bedroom door by that point, and when I picked him up he stopped.  I gave myself a mental high five and carried him to the bed to lie down with him again.  As soon as his head touched the bed he started screaming again.  After several minutes of it, I decided he must not have been tired.  Even though he missed his second nap for the day.  Or possibly he was too tired.  So we both got up and came into the living room. 

He was glad to get a break from me and went straight to the play room while Thomas and I started a movie.  He played quietly and sat on the old couch and looked at some toys.  By 10:00, he came back into the living room fussing and rubbing his eyes.  This time, I knew he was sleepy, so I happily scooped him up and went back to the bedroom with him.  I was sure it would only take a few minutes because he was surely so tired by then he wouldn’t be able to fight sleep.  I was thinking about cuddling up next to Thomas on the couch to finish watching the movie as I laid him down on the bed.  And my pretty little daydream was shattered by his shrill screaming.

We didn't know he had become so attached to it!

Thomas came into the room and I told him to lie down with the baby, too.  Maybe the problem was that he wanted his daddy.  Thomas got into bed and stroked and cuddled and cooed.  In return he was bitten, scratched, and punched.  He tried to give him his bottle, but that only elicited louder screaming.  Same thing with the pacifier.

Then I remembered that Thomas had put Tripp’s blanket in the dirty clothes.  I had given him a different one, but he wasn’t interested in it.  So I fetched the blanket and brought it back to bed.  I shook it out and fluffed it up in the air over Tripp.  As soon as it touched him, Tripp grabbed it and stopped screaming.  And by the time it had settled completely, he was fast asleep and snoring softly.

Finally I have a place to talk without having to worry about my mom reading it and getting mad at me.  I love her so much, and she helps me a lot, but some days I feel like I’m going to explode.  I try to talk to Thomas about it all, but he already doesn’t like her.  I don’t want to make him hate her, you know?  Besides, he’s a man.  He doesn’t really get it, especially when I can’t quite articulate what I need to say.  And that’s what prompted me to go ahead and start a new site.  I was planning it when one of my friends on Twitter told me she wished she could because there’s something she wants to talk about and can’t on her site.  Thus, the “Can We Talk?” section began to form. 

I thought to myself, “What if I could make a place for people to talk without the fear of people knowing who they are?”  I know I would have used it more than once.  Actually, there are a few other sites out there, but I didn’t know about them. 

I want my first real post to count, so today there will be no cute stories of the kids.  No stories of Thomas’ and my interrupted attempts at sex.  Today it’s all about Mama.

Last Tuesday all the work and stress from moving and the holidays caught up to me.  I had been going non-stop packing and cleaning, unpacking and cleaning, shopping for gifts and cleaning, raising the kids and… well, I think you get it.  I was worn out.  Tripp has been going through some pretty heavy mommy-anxiety and even at night he wakes up two or three times just to see if I’m there.  The last time he woke me up Monday night/Tuesday morning was about 5:00.  So I decided to go ahead and get up.  I would have a couple of much needed hours to myself.  I had been up only a few minutes when Noah got up.  Then by 6:30 Thomas brought Tripp to the living room because he hadn’t been back to sleep since I got up.  So the morning went from “Yippee! Time to myself!” to “Pre-dawn Mommy take care of me.”

It seemed like anything that could happen that day, did!  By the time I realized I had forgotten to send Noah’s lunch with him I knew the day was going to be shitty.  I started crying and couldn’t stop.  Thomas was nice and supportive and worried, and I kept explaining it wasn’t him, it was me.  He realizes that I’m basically a single mother and how hard it can be.  But still, I couldn’t stop.  And Tessa and Tripp were both all over me.  It was ridiculous.

After Thomas went to work my mom happened to call.  She could hear that I had been crying so she asked what was wrong.  I told her but she didn’t believe me.  She kept saying she knows it’s more than that and asking me if Thomas and I were fighting.  I finally convinced her I was just stressed out, and was trying to talk to her about it.  I just needed someone to listen, you know?  But in the middle of it, she broke in to tell me how my brother had upset her the night before.  And how no matter what she does one of us kids is always mad at her. 

She went on like that for several minutes, then told me to bring Tessa and Tripp over.  Tess could spend the night and I could get Tripp when I picked Noah up from school.  When I got there, I was feeling a little better, I had stopped crying anyway.  So she spent the whole time I was there talking about how bad all of us kids treat her.  I just kept thinking to myself, “Gee.  I wonder why?”

Then she told me she and my dad would pick Noah up from school, and I could pick him up from her house at 6:00.  But she didn’t want to keep Tripp because he’s just too hard to take care of.  Hello??  That’s exactly why I needed a break!

I’m grateful to her for getting Noah and Tessa.  I really am.  And I’m grateful that she lets Tessa spend the night often.  Usually at least once a week.  But if you’re going to help me, please, help me all the way!  Not just enough to say what a great grandparent you are (she does say that, by the way.  She tells me all the time how lucky I am to have her.) but still leave me with extra work.  It was harder having to get Tripp back out at 6:00 at night.  And harder having to get Noah home at 7:00, still needing dinner and a bath before bedtime at 8:00.

But I feel bad because she is helping, and I just want more.  I feel like an ungrateful bitch, honestly.

 

 Make sure you check out our first post in the Can We Talk? section!  It’s a good one and this friend needs your advice and opinion.

Ok… having a few technical difficulties, but I swear I’m going to get it going within a few days. 

Several of you have told me you want to post on the Can We Talk? section, so you may want to go ahead and get it written and emailed to me.  I don’t want to publish more than one per day, and it’s a first come first serve kind of thing.