Change is good.

Here's an ancient blog I wrote on Myspace a while back... but a couple people requested it, so here it is ... enjoy! ********************************* Bathroom Chemestry 101 It was about 1:30 am when I finally made my way upstairs for bed. I pried myself away from the television long enough to check my e-mail, let the dogs in, and grab a glass of ice water before making the "night rounds"... food put away - check cats in - check lights out - check children asleep - check So, after sending the pups to their beds and removing the days jewels, I decided to take a shower. A nice hot cleansing ritual to remove the days dirt and negativity. So ... I'm diggin' this relaxing bath ... washed me ... washed my hair ... rinsed ... and reached for the conditioner ... to my horror, I found that there was no more conditioner !! WHAT?!?!?! How could this be? I bought both bottles at the same time - shampoo and conditioner both 21 ounces ... I use the same sized dollo...

I consider myself a thinker, and have had the good fortune to hear such from outside sources. I remember as a child being reprimanded by teachers for being a "daydreamer". So sorry that my imagination is much more exciting than learning how to divide fractions. Yes, I know math is important, but I believe that letting the mind wander (at least once daily) is equally beneficial. I speculate that society's most brilliant minds - both past and present - were daydreamers. I can visualize these folks as kids... The architect who played with Legos and built castles for kings and fair maidens ... The teacher who sat all her dolls and stuffed bunnies in a line to sing the alphabet song ... The writer who lost herself in books; a new adventure every night. My kids are dreamers, too. Sixyearoldboy (who will be Sevenyearoldboy next week) has a passion for food. He loves the tastes and smells of the herbs I have growing on the patio. He'll choose to watch Food Network over Ni...

I set two alarms before I go to bed to make sure I get up on time to put the children on the school bus. One beside my bed - a nice CD player one that allows me the privelege to hear Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture instead of some obnoxious buzzing noise, and the other is my cell phone. I do, however, have a third alarm. Her name is Alice. A person could almost set thier watch by this cat. Seriously. At 6:15 there's the buzzbuzz vibration of my cell phone alarm, followed five minutes later by triumphant trumpets, symbol crashes and (my favorite) real honesttogoodness cannons firing. Should I decide to be lazy for a few more minutes - which is usually the case - Alice begins her morning ritual in the litter box. 6:25 am on the dot ! I don't like having a litter pan in the bedroom, but there's nowhere else to put it. The bathroom is too small, and I don't like the idea of having that in the kitchen where we eat. So, there it is.. in my bedroom... Blech. So, Alice likes t...

Trichotillomania is defined as the compulsive pulling of one's own hair. Some would categorize it as impulse control disorder, others as obsessive compulsive disorder. Either way, it's a real pain in the rear...well, in the head to be more literal. Trich , as some sufferers call it, is something of an enigma. It's considered rare and difficult to treat, not to mention it results in social stigmas that can destroy even the strongest of personalities. Here it is from my perspective... When I was about thirteen I started pulling in my sleep. I would awaken in the morning with strands of hair on my pillow and even clutched in my hands. There would be moments (usually bouts of teen angst or boredom) when I would "zone out", plucking away, only to find hours later that I'd removed large portions of hair from my head. What have I done? How embarrassing ! Everyone was going to think I was crazy... maybe I am crazy . I'd better come up with a lie... and a good one...

I must explain, for those of you who are so unfortunate to have never experienced one, what a "Zen moment" is. It is a frame of time not defined by length, but by the quality of conscious thought accompanied by complete focus, pseudo -silence, and a room temperature between 68 and 73 degrees Fahrenheit . The added smell of vanilla or apples and cinnamon from a nearby Glade air freshener may enhance such moments. Zen moments for me are few and far between, but when they come I'm sure to use them to the best of my ability. Well... Kinda . I do my best thinking in the Throne Room...a trait I've inherited from dear ol ' dad. I realize now that my father had a great many Bathroom Zen Moments when my sister and I were kids... He learned to do shorthand writing in there, and came up with some of the best woodworking plans while paying homage to the Porcelain God... still does, in fact. I believe this is where he schemed most, if not all of, his best Christmas pr...

My apologies for taking so long to write another blog... after all, I know all of you have been waiting on pins and needles for the awesomeness that is Me. Now that you've had your laugh for the day, lets get serious... Some of you know from previous blogs that my family and I have moved from Virginia to Tennessee; an event brought about by the roller-coaster that is our American economy. I'm certainly not complaining. My husband is still employed, we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, and, of course, the Internet. I am no stranger to moving being an Army brat... every few years growing up I had to pack my things and move from state to state, continent to continent. Considering I've moved my possessions across an ocean, the short move from VA to TN shouldn't seem like such a big deal. Put things in box. Move box. Take things out of box. Done and done.... for the most part. Now comes the hard part - meeting new people. I've always considered myself a ...

Er... well, a kidney stone, that is. I was always under the impression that kidney stones were exclusively for overweight, middle-aged men who slathered everything with ketchup and extra salt. I assumed wrong... and yes, to assume makes an ass of "u" and "me". Spoiler alert!... I shall be giving out a little too much information, but it's for your own good. The pain started in the morning when I got out of bed... at that time it felt no worse than the usual monthly occurrence , i.e. ovulating.... For those of you who have never had the pleasure, imagine someone jutting a thick knitting needle in your lower abdomen and twisting it 'round. The dull, intense pain got increasingly worse throughout the day, and it was when my daughter and I were on our way home from Wal -Mart that I made the executive decision to stop at the emergency room. At the very least, I thought, they would tell me I was out of my mind and to go home and quit being such a pussy. ...