And how. Seriously. Yesterday, after the bloodbath that David insisted on making me watch; we took the kids to the library. I really wanted to go because I’ve been craving a new delicious read. I certianly found one. I rented Emily Giffin’s Baby Proof and found it to be completely and utterly fantastic. I could not put this book down and read it pretty straight from 6pm until 3 in the morning; picking it up again at 8:30ish and reading until 1:30, where I turned the last page. There is no other word than absolutely delicious. And I absolutely fell in love with the characters. I will miss them. ::sniff sniff::

David and I had some very meaningful conversation in the wee hours of the morning as well. We talked about life and our marriage and how happy we make each other. It was really sweet and well worth the exhaustion this morning.

Despite feeling like a zombie, the man made a fantastic breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon and hashbrowns. Yummy. We watched the kids frolic in the living room for a bit and then turned our attention to the Phillies game, where we are currently watching the Phils hand the Brewer’s their ass.

Can Sunday get any better?

Well, yeah, it could. I’m worried about an upcoming mammogram for some minor boob pain. That’s on Friday. And, well, the wash /could/ do it’s damn self. But other than that, seriously? Nirvana.

Why, oh why, do the producers in Hollywood have to make such trite, violent, testosterone-ridden movies these days? I’m currently watching something with Cuba Gooding Jr. as a cop journeying down the wrong side of the tracks. There’s a whole lot of “fucks” and guns. And I don’t see how people can find this entertaining or enjoyable. If I wanted to see death and morbidity, I’d watch the news. This is horrible. And the fact that David is making me watch this bullshit is even more so. Shame. On. Him.

I had a pap done about a month ago. I have HPV. GREAT! Fantastic. So, in March, I have to go back for a follow-up. Then, I have to go back every six months thereafter. Ugh!

But other than that, life is peaches and cream.

Since I haven’t updated in like forever, let me start with a brief dissertation on the past six months.

In May, I went back to work full-time. The branch is closer to home and I’m loving it.

I have picked up some new hobbies. Namely, thrifting (shopping at thrift stores) and flea marketing. I even have David getting in on the fun. We’ve gotten some great things in our travels. Plus, it’s a hobby that we both enjoy!

Other than that, things are pretty much status quo, but a good status quo. We will be celebrating our first anniversary in a little over a month. Life is good.

Dear Mister Snow,

I would like to see my husband sometime before Easter. Please stop it, you relentless bitch and let my Manarms come home!

Love,

Mrs. Booker

I know that it’s the “American Dream” to move out of the city and into the desired blandness that is the Suburbs, however, I find myself picking up my tin can and running it along the rungs of the County Line. GET ME OUT OF HERE! The Suburbs of Philadelphia may be different from the suburbs that you know. The suburbs that I know are filled with snobbery, pretentiousness, self-entitlement, self-righteousness and elitism. Aside from that warm and welcoming depiction, housing is outrageously expensive.

I wrestle with the notion of moving back into the city. The school district out in the mashed potato world of Suburbia is far superior to that of the city, but God knows, I hate this place! I hate you, $1200+ a month rent, and I hate your inhabitants who are doctors, lawyers and dear God, ANYTHING but Indian chiefs. Indian chiefs, after all, sound so blue collar!! THE HORROR!!!!

So, while David is laid off, we are going to gather information about getting Alexa into a Charter School in the city. We could own our own home for what we pay in rent up here. But anyway….

It’s cold and I feel the need to bake something.

I try really hard to be an avid blogger. However, my real life seems to suck all of my creative flow right out of me. Since the last time I wrote, I have taken on two different jobs. This last one, I think is a keeper.  This job is half sales associate/half administrative and 100% flexible. Which is really helpful right about now as David has begun his temporary (6-8 week) layoff. That means if we want to put food on the table, I need to take a little part-time gig. To say I’m scared == understatement of the year.

Let’s see — what other goodness do I have to dispense upon the interweb……… hmmm…… oh yes, I ended up in the ER on New Year’s Day. Partially because I’m a little bit hyperchondriac; partially because I had this feeling as if my insides were swollen. A bunch of tests later and come to find that I have IBS. And a .73 centimeter gallstone loving cuddled in my gallbladder. The wall looks good and it’s not inflamed so I didn’t need it out right then and there. However, surgery is scheduled for April 2nd. I put it off as long as I could without putting it off indefinitely and 2.5 months seems like a reasonable enough amount of time to not think about it or worry about. That scares me too. However, having the stone travel and get blocked in my bile duct scares me more. So, lesser of two evils and all that….

In all honesty, this seems like a whole lot of doom and gloom but it’s really not. Life has been really good! We had a wonderful Christmas. David outdid himself with the gift giving and it was nice to be around family again. Since the last time I wrote, my mother and I have started full-fledged speaking again and I take the kids down to visit at least once a week. I am anxiously awaiting our tax return as I plan to get a digital camera — a semi-decent one. One day when I have time, I’d like to upload my Christmas tree cake that I made for Alexa’s school which came out FABULOUS by the way!

For now, I go to watch some stupid Russian movie. Night!

My dad announced yesterday that my sister wanted to come up for a party that we sorta told people that we were having. I told people to RSVP by November 1st. This party was due to take place on the evening of what would have been our wedding, if PA didn’t pass the asstastical law about who could officiate a wedding. No one RSVP’d. I didn’t bother calling people because I neither wanted to seem as if I was begging nor did I want to put anyone in a weird position if they truly didn’t want to come. So, we just ixnayed the party idea. Until yesterday. Since I am still trying to build a relationship with my family, I told my dad that yes, we were still having it, and that we’d love to have anyone who wanted to come up to come. David and I spent this afternoon buying up a diabetic’s wet dream. We had cannoli’s, Polish Cheesecake, and amazing bakery cookies. My sister, mom and dad came and it was a lot of fun. We played 80’s Trivial Pursuit. Things were almost like they were B.S. (Before Stuart, not entirely unlike Before Christ.) Here’s to mending fences…

Tonight, as David and I were sitting on the sofa watching Spider Man, I blurted out with as much enthusiasm as someone who just won the MegaMillions, “I LOVE MY MOP!” We met last week at Walmart. He was under $9 and my knees were tired of scrubbing the floor. He came to me when I needed him most. And I actually look forward to holding him in my arms as we disinfect the linoleum.

Also, while watching some Spidey, David said, “Hey, that guy has a droopy eye too!” “What guy?”, I replied. He said, “That actor.” Then he said, “I have a droopy eye too.” “No you don’t!, “I said.” “Yes I do. After I look at myself for like 10 minutes in the mirror, I see it.” The conversation ended with, “I love you David. Or should I say Narcissus.”

THE END.

But it’s not my fault. It really, really isn’t. Grab your favorite designer coffee’d concoction and sit down for a minute like we’re girlfriends. I have a story for ya.

Halloween was rushed and hurried as I had to work that day. The kids had a wonderful time and there was oodles of candy to be eaten by all. Lex had school the next day so we cut our trick or treating short and bustled back to the car. Everything was nice and peaceful and lovely. And then Thursday happened.

I was having a PMS-induced psychotic episode. I yelled at Luke for breathing the wrong way that morning. We took Lex to school and came home. Luke went peepee on the potty like a big boy and I decided to treat him to McDonald’s for doing such a great job. And, of course, in redemption for my behavior in the morning.

As it’s 50 below zero here (well, it’s in the 40’s…. shuddup), I picked a McDonald’s with a PlayLand. Mistake number one. We ordered our lunch and ate as our arteries clogged inside of our thermalized chests. After eating Luke went to play in the PlayLand. To make a long story short, he broke his arm. At McDonald’s. The place that was supposed to be his reward for good behavior.

We spent six hours in the ER. They reset it, cast it and sent us home. We have follow-ups with the orthopedic doctor scheduled for the next 10 years. Or so it seems.

And not to sound like my dog ate my homework or anything, but the fucker did eat my laptop power supply. I have another one now, and everything is right in the world again.

AND, I am now Mrs. Booker. So, getting married kinda interfered with my blog writing time. Photos here should you be interested in taking a peek.

Sorry, internets. I’ll do better this second week. I promise. Tell my kids to stop going to the damn hospital though!

This morning, Alexa had an appointment with a neurologist from CHOP one of the most renowned childen’s hospitals on the East Coast. Being the asshole that I am, I didn’t begin to get ready until about 7 for a 9am appointment. Under normal circumstances, this would be fine. However, when in the face of unchartered territory, I begin to freak out. Luke made it a point to be extra-specially defiant which really did wonders for my state of mind. Three year olds suck. So, I found myself running around, ruddlerless, screaming at the boy as if the increase in decibels were aiding in the expulsion of demons. Before we left the door, I had a headache.

Mapquest, them fuckers, gave me inaccurate directions leaving me about 5 miles in the wrong direction; though a quick call to the office got me back on track. My hands were clammy, my heart was pounding and I swear to God, if that kid told me “Shh!” one more time I was going to commit a murderous act. Once inside the office, the fun continued.

David accidentally threw away Alexa’s medical card when I had one of her last 3 million antibiotics filled. The receptionist could only register her by her card number. Since her insurance is through BIODAD, I had to make a quick call over to him to get the information. I was seconds away from having a meltdown. I was stroppy with the receptionist and wanted to rip her old face off. However, BIODAD picked up the phone on the first try (miraculous) and we were taken back to our room shortly after. The nurse practitioner was amazing! She took the time to record the entire traumatic event that was Alexa’s seizure. She then ran the information over to the neurologist and both concurred that Alexa did not have a focal seizure at all, but a complex Febrile seizure caused by the hella-potent infection that she was fighting off. Given that she is autistic (STRIKE 1!) and that the seizure was brought on by such a low-grade fever (STRIKE 2!), they fear that she may have more in her future. However, they sent me home with some meds should she ever have a seizure here with a back-up pack to keep at school. I feel satisfied in having an answer now that makes sense.

I just wish I knew why I wanted to bite everyone’s head off? Perhaps I was hungry or perhaps I just am beyond my stress limit. I normally don’t loose my patience with office staff, no matter how retarded and unaccommodating they may be. I do know a tropical fruit smoothie and a cigarette did wonders for my mood.

Other than that, I return to work tomorrow. Yippee. AND, David and I get our marriage license tomorrow. It’s beginning to feel real.