March Pointless Lists

March. It was the coldest of times, it was the warmest of times. (Sorry, Charles.) I went from wearing three layers and wishing for a fourth to wearing a tank top and wishing for open toed shoes.

Spring is hilarious.

I'm not sure what else to say about March, except that it was long and busy and filled with Lent. I was tempted to mention this a time or two, but anyway, I gave up desserts and pop. I didn't think the pop would be that big of a deal because we never buy it and the only time I have it is at my parents' or if we go out to eat, which doesn't happen often. But those six weeks? I had like 50 opportunities to drink a soda, which is kind of amazing because there are only 40 days to Lent. Maybe 46 because I kept up the cause on Sundays too, even though those totally do not count.

Giving up desserts turned out not to be so bad, except for the no chocolate part. That sucked. But I thought, well, I'll just lose some weight, right, and that will make it all worth it. Except when I went to the doctor I learned I had not lost ONE OUNCE. This seems terribly unfair. Unless it means I can eat all the dessert I want and not gain weight. Unfortunately, I think it just means my sedentary lifestyle is pathetic. (What? I've had a viral infection, jeez.)

Um... I kind of forgot the point of all this, but anyway...

Pointless list time!

Movies watched:
No idea. Eric watched a few religious themed movies for mass consumption, I guess, but they were cheesy and poorly acted, and honestly, not really worth a mention. I'm not against Christian movies, but at least cast them properly, okay? That's all I'm saying.

Books read:
I'm still rereading the Outlander series because I can. I'm not ready to let Jamie and Claire go (that's been the theme of the last three months, whatever, it's my time, don't judge me). I'm thinking, though, that it might be time for a little Hunger Games reread. I miss Finnick.

(Where's Finnick? Odair he is!)

(That's a joke from Abby.)

Most read post:
Let's hear it for navy blue. Apparently people enjoy reading about other people's pain, or maybe there was just a lot searches for navy and that post came up.

Things I've learned:
Pink eye is disgusting, and also, there is NO WAY you can reasonably expect someone inflicted with that crap disease not to rub their eyeballs the hell out. Man, it's itchy.

P.S. Happy Easter!

What I Did On My Spring Vacation

My goal in life is to not look creepy for Easter, and at the moment, it seems kind of possible. No traces of pink eye left, but I'm kind of afraid to put makeup on just yet because last time I thought that would be a good idea, I ended up back at Square One. And when you've been so far as Square Three, backtracking really sucks.

I have no idea what I'm talking about most of the time, just FYI, but anyway, here's hoping my pink eye posts are at an end.

I've been working full time lately while one of our secretaries is out on spring break. Someone asked why I didn't take spring break off with my children, which made me laugh. I have my reasons, people:

1. Deb in Reception (not to be confused with Deb in Sales) is married to a teacher. I'm married to a planner.
2. I can't remember our little family EVER taking spring break off.
3. What's the point? It's still cold and crappy out there. Give me summer!
4. Also, two receptionists cannot be off at the same time or chaos results. I guess. That's what they tell me, anyway.
5. ...Um, I'm okay with picking up extra hours and letting the girls spend quality time* with their grandparents.
6. *That sounds much better than saying, "You want me to listen to fighting ALL DAY LONG? No thanks."

And it's actually been pretty fun this week. It's been busy. I've gotten some extra writing assignments (always a plus) and the phones have been ringing off the hook. There's been a lot of coffee going on too, which, now that I think about it, might be most of the reason.

Except yesterday this old guy comes in and he's just kind of... well, he's old, and he's lonely, and he thinks I like him. So he's telling me some story that I wasn't really following for about fifteen minutes (about help that Eric rendered him two years ago. He has a little crush on Eric), then hands me a letter to the editor with a smile because I'm really going to enjoy reading it. Um, probably not, but I smile and thank him and promise to pass it on. We are so far apart on the political fence that we can't even see each other, except he doesn't know that, and since his letters are always political in nature, and always written longhand, it's kind of more than I can take, transcribing them.

OH. But then he's telling me that he's not a natural writer, but a "real writer" gave him a list of all her best tips, to which he's added: Keep a pencil and pad by the bed and in the bathroom. "Because that's where I get most of my gems," he adds.

You don't have to tell me everything, people. Also: I need to hook him up with my fossilized dinosaur poop friend. They'd get along just fine.

Well, anyway, that's what I've been doing. The end, I guess.

Bored, border, bordest

I won't lie, people, I'm thinking of going all King Lear and plucking my left eyeball the hell out. "Out, vile jelly! Where is thy luster now?" I totally still remember that from senior year AP English, probably because it was the most disgusting thing I'd ever read. But I guess I should point out that it was Lear's daughters who orchestrated the whole eye removal, not Lear. He didn't do it on purpose. God, I really hate Shakespeare. Don't even get me started. Ain't nobody got time for that.

Where was I? Oh, yes. My pink eye seemed rather under control this morning, so I got all vain and decided to put on mascara. About mid day it felt like there was a needle sticking in my eyeball, and I couldn't keep from rubbing it. Now it's all slimy again. You can insert a whole string of very bad words here. I just don't have the energy.

Gah! It's nice to know that I really can get more disgusting. I thought I'd reached the limit. And P.S. That mascara is in the trash.

I kind of forgot that I was upset about Daylight Saving Time, what with the pink eye and the fact our school district is thinking about repositioning boundaries, which would send us to another school ten miles up the road. Since we're not even two miles from the school we go to now, damn right I'm fired up. Hell no, we won't go! I keep chanting that. Eric thinks I'm being silly. Don't look at me, I didn't make the protest rules.

In conclusion, I'm spending Friday night folding and putting away laundry. Things can't get that much sadder, can they?

Wait, can they?!

Let's hear it for navy blue

I tell you what, you haven't lived until you've been afflicted with pink eye at a Very Advanced Age (aka 40). I've missed the last two days of work because of goopy gloppy eyes, and, quite frankly, I'm going a little stir crazy over here.

So yesterday I went to the doctor because I had HAD it. My ears itch, my throat hurts, I have a cough, my sinus' are congested, and my eyes, obviously, are pink. Also, my thumb has a scratch and my skin is dry and I can't find any Chapstick. I mean, come on! There are limits, people!

My beloved doctor doesn't work on Tuesdays, so I saw this other character. Who was actually pretty cool. But he did NOT give me antibiotics, which I was hoping to score. Um, because whatever this is is viral and antibiotics won't help.

Be sicker next time, he joked when I booed his diagnosis, and I was all, I thought I was! Then he was all, cough syrup with a DM in the title, the drops you're putting in your eye aren't helping, and take 3000 milligrams of vitamin C daily.

So that was a waste of a $20 copay is what I'm saying.

But he did give me a note saying I am not contagious and can go to work, with the warning that before I help anyone at the front desk I need to load up on the hand sanitizer.

I thought I wasn't contagious? I'm an English major, though, which is probably why I don't understand the finer points of medicine.

My husband and my mother were NOT impressed. I won't lie, I kind of got in trouble for failing to procure Big Medicine. When I woke up with morning with my left eye all crusty, Eric was like, FORGET the doctor, go get the drops. He's very bossy, that one.

Wait, here's what we're dealing with:

Better, right? But still pink. And wow, I am BRAVE posting pics without make-up, so give me props right now.

Well, anyway. I'm going to be rocking sunglasses all day long, who cares if it's rainy and so dark it's practically twilight at 9 a.m., because A) Abby has an awards ceremony today--she won an essay contest--and B) Chris the Office Manager says that since I have a note, it's fine to go to work, goopy eyes or no. Notes are handy that way.

Oh, the sunglasses? I'm just sensitive to light, I will say if anyone ventures to ask (which I doubt they will--it's my ugly shirt theory: Everyone is so worried about their own ugly shirt that they don't even notice yours) because that will be less humiliating than admitting I have pink eye. Abby votes I just pretend to be blind, but that seems like a big commitment.

Blerg! When's spring? (Oh, right...)

Pink vs. green

Um, you guys? I have pink eye. Bad. My right eye is practically swollen shut. I've never felt more beautiful, really.

Party game: Which eye is infected?

Yesterday my eye was just kind of bugging me. I felt like there was an eyelash or something in there that I just couldn't get out. By the time we had dinner, it was pretty obvious what was going on. It was driving me so insane that I started rubbing it... and here we are: Crapville. It's probably against some kind of code, but anyway, we still have drops from Johanna's bout a couple of weeks ago, so. And supposedly compresses work, so there's that. Oh my God, what if I still look like this tomorrow? How can I go to work?!

I promised Abby we'd go into town today, but I'm thinking maybe not. I'm vain, okay? And lacking an eyepatch. And, let's be honest, making babies cry isn't exactly good for a girl's self esteem.

SO NOT COOL.

P.S. Eric thinks it's hilarious. I'm maybe slightly less amused. "It's appropriate that you would get a childhood disease," he snickers. Um, because I'm a child. HA HA HA. (Those are sarcastic "ha's," by the way.) Oh, sure, now he's being sympathetic, but he won't let me take a trip to the emergency room? Does he not understand how serious a blow this is to my pride? Men.

So anyway, in other news, Johanna made her First Confession yesterday. I'm not sure what they're learning in CCD, but she was all, I can't run very fast because my heart is heavy, but after I go to Confession I'll be fast again, and I was like, you're EIGHT. How heavy can your heart be?

Abby reminded us that after her First Confession, we took her to dinner, so we went out last night to celebrate Johanna. Fair is fair. She chose a Mexican restaurant, and had a plate of rice and beans with a bean burrito and kept saying, I love life!, and giving her scoops of food kisses before putting them in her mouth, so overall, I'd say dinner was a big hit. Well, it isn't every day you make a Sacrement. A bean burrito seems the least we could do.

Eric has now graciously volunteered to go to town for me, so I guess I need to make a grocery list. It's the pinkest St. Patrick's Day ever.

This is why I just like navy blue.

Nothing

Man, being home sick is boring. I've been fighting a cold (unsuccessfully, whatever) for the past week, and yesterday I finally succumbed to the inevitable: My couch = my friend. I tooled around on my poser iPad when I wasn't napping or blowing my nose, and you know what? The Internet is boring, too. Oh, I did find this on Pinterest, though. I'm not sure why it pleases me so much, but it just really, really does.

Anyway, I don't feel like sitting down immediately after standing up this morning, so I'm calling it a win and am going to attempt work. I've straightened my hair and everything, that's the level of commitment I've got for this plan.

Um, because I'm pretty sure I'll mostly be sitting today. I can sit like a champ.

Irony: Wanting to stay home and rest when you're well, and wanting to go out and conquer when you're sick. No matter how willing the soul is, it's the flesh you have to watch out for.

Well, anyway. This isn't a real post. Sometimes even if the words are there, the story is not. Ah, well. Next time, I'm sure...

P.S. Anybody got a hankie?

Morning view 2.0

1. I love you, Ron Swanson.

2. With a fiery passion.

3. Does anyone in Congress have school-aged kids? I mean, kids they actually have to deal with personally in the mornings, not kids that get shuffled to the nanny. Because if they did, I can guarantee they wouldn't have voted to start daylight saving time three weeks early*. Bastards.

4. No, I do not think I'll get over this anytime soon. Hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoy writing about it.

5. (Sorry. I just want to sleep.)

6. I was kind of crushed a few years ago when I learned it's "daylight SAVING time" and not "daylight SAVINGS time." That extra "s" really adds to the whole concept, but no one asked me, so whatever, I guess.

7. Also, I mentioned that we should just pick a time and stick with it, right? Suddenly Arizona is looking like a genius.

8. The coffee is kicking in. Hallelujah!

9. I have the worst coffee maker ever, so do not buy one just based on the above picture, okay? It does not have my endorsement. Piece o' crap. Felt like maybe I should mention that as a public service.

*In 2007, I guess, so I'm a little late in my complaining, but COME ON!

May I take a nap now?

So let's see here: I haven't really gotten my mental health day yet, but since Johanna finally went back to school on Friday, I did have like three hours to myself, which was kind of awesome. Um, I used them to clean house. Boring! Except the whole house stayed clean for those three hours and I got to listen to really loud music, so win.

Also: Am I the only one who knows how to load and unload the dishwasher? Looking at you, family. This isn't rocket science.

And: I hate daylight saving time. PICK A TIME AND STICK WITH IT, jeez. Quit being drunk, Congress.

Moving RIGHT along...

Because I'm a magnet for the odd, I was privileged to get a close, personal view of fossilized dinosaur poop right at my own desk last week at work. Um, gross. Also, how do you KNOW it's fossilized dinosaur poop, dude? I mean, no, I'm not trying to argue the fact that it's fossilized because clearly, yes, you have a point there, but how do you know it's from a dinosaur? I would imagine it would be, ahem, bigger than that. No, you cannot make me touch that, so quit asking. And how is collecting this stuff a good idea on any level?

Thank God he only brought in three specimens and not the entire collection.

Story #2 (HA! Get it?): Johanna recovered from her ailments just in time for the last skate night at school. I was glad because I'd volunteered an entire week prior to take money at the door, and I was thinking that going alone was not really something I wanted to do. Actually, going at all was not something I wanted to do, but my conscience gets the best of me and I volunteer to do stuff. I don't know, it's a character flaw. Anyway, so Johanna and I went, and it was kind of stupid because the other volunteer came with her son, who wanted to take the money, which was fine if you don't mind a kindergartener trying to count back your change, whatever, over it, so all I really did was sit there and periodically yell at the fifth graders to STAY OUT OF THE FOYER. But eventually I got to go sit down on the bleachers and take in the whole awful scene. Skate night was nearly over, and I was trying to figure out the chances of me getting the skates off Johanna before the last song actually played when the fire alarm starts blaring. Nice. So Johanna was a boss and whipped off her skates and was out the door as directed in no time, except she was worried that her school was burning down and didn't quite believe me when I was all, no, it was probably just some idiot kid.

She took issue with my word choice, but I wasn't feeling very giving at that particular moment, even though it did get me out of there more quickly than I'd have ever hoped.

P.S. I bought some honest to God vanilla-flavored creamer at the grocery store this morning and am thinking about making another pot of coffee just to use it. Mmm, coffee!

Forget short sleeves

**Update**

March 6, 2013. No one wants spring anyway. Oh, wait...

I'm tempted to follow Skilly's lead and just curl up in a ball and take a nap. It looks delightful. Instead I'm sitting here trying to decide what to write about while my stomach churns and Johanna's My Little Pony cartoon* plays right outside my door.

It's been a hell of a week is what I'm saying, and it's only Wednesday.

Johanna has been home since last Thursday with various ailments. First it was two days of pink eye. She recovered for the weekend, but then Monday morning she woke up complaining that her stomach hurt, she felt faint and dizzy and she was pretty sure she was going to throw up. I've learned to listen to her because when I don't, she tends to drive the lesson home in some dramatic fashion, like puking all over a hotel lobby (looking at you, Disneyland!). She hasn't thrown up, but she has no appetite and she's actually sitting still. Johanna is a constant whirl of motion and she refuels quite regularly, so the mere fact that she has no interest in foodstuffs of any sort and has been on the couch is alarming.

Also: What is up with the snow? This is our second day, although yesterday it didn't add up to much. The ground is now completely white. It's a bit hard to take because Monday was beautiful--I wore a short sleeve t-shirt!--and shivering isn't as fun as you'd think it'd be.

Well, the end, I guess. Fingers crossed Johanna is well by Friday because I actually volunteered to help at Skate Night. Oh, the irony if she's home and I'm not...

*For the record, she can watch The Mighty B! all she wants. The lead character is voiced by Amy Poehler and the dialog is awesome. That's a cartoon I can get behind.

**Update**
March 7 -- I need a mental health day, people, like, bad. Johanna is home AGAIN, but the good news is that she's more herself today than she has been for the past week, so that's a win. She even ate two hard-boiled eggs. The bad news is she's watching old Blue's Clues shows on the iPad, which I'm pretty sure means she's broken. Except it's not My Little Pony, so I can't complain. Much. Also, I still have a little crush on Steve.

I stopped by the school to get her homework this morning and was instantly surrounded by concerned classmates asking about Johanna. I was all, do you know how Johanna has a lot of energy?, and they were all, yes!, and then I was like, well, she's been just laying on the couch, and they were like, oooooh! Clearly they understood the severity of the situation, bless them.

The kind of bad news is that Abby is now complaining of various symptoms, and I would have kept her home from school today except she wants to go to a basketball game verses the other middle school this afternoon, so she was like, if I can keep myself from puking in Lily's parents' car, I can do this. Um, that's from back in January when we had Norovirus, but what she's failing to remember here is that she DID puke all over the couch when she finally made it home, so I'm not sure if this is a good analogy, all things considered.

Anyway, thank God for grandparents. They've gone above and beyond for a week now. Truly, we are blessed.

P.S. I should also report that even though it's like 35-degrees out, it's also sunny and mostly clear, which does a lot for my emotional well-being. But I still want that mental health day.

Lesson NOT learned

You'd think I'd have learned my lesson after last Sunday's massive Spring Cleaning extravaganza, but apparently not. Today I'm concentrating on the master bedroom. I'm not sure when I last dusted in here, but it's been awhile based on the pictures I was able to draw in the dust.

So I'm sneezing a lot is what I'm saying.

Where in the world is Ron Swanson?

I've got a sack of giveaways started (it amazes me that no matter how much I chuck, there's always MORE to get rid of), and I'm sorely tempted to take down an entire picture wall, except it's REALLY ugly behind the frames (um, we had some issues hanging the pictures, I guess) and I'm not sure I can emotionally stand to look at that crap for however long it takes to redo it. I'm thinking next fall/winter, we'll do a Sort of Redecorating project. Nothing major, just paint and tearing down the wallpaper and redoing everything hanging on the walls. Eventually Eric will see this post and we'll all be on the same page, so no sense mentioning it just yet. The boy is outside doing yard work and seems quite happy despite his red nose. I'd hate to kill the glow by mentioning another inside project. Because I think he's really tired of painting AND being inside.

In other news: Johanna's eyes are looking better, Abby just got out of bed, Skilly can't decide whether to come in or stay out, my parents are picking up our moldings today, and I really, really just want some chocolate.

Now, to vacuum.

P.S. Had some Bad Ass coffee this morning, Ann. Mmm!