Thursday, June 27, 2013

SarcastiCarrie is a Robot

I had to do it.  I had to turn on the captcha.  I hope it's not too bad, but the spam was getting to be too much for me (and I don't even delete it...just leave it there).  By the way, I am a robot and it usually takes me two or three or more! times to get the captcha right.  I never know whether the capitals are important or the spacing.  Sometimes, I even have to have it read to me.  Then I have to go find the unmute button on my computer, turn sound on, listen carefully, type it in, etc.  Am Robot.

Since this is the most boring blog post in the history of time, I reward you with a photo spread.  I am really quite fond of these children.

Often, as I am driving in the car, I think of blog posts I would like to write.  But, alas, I don't have any voice to text software installed in my car radio, so it's just not going to happen.

One thing I wanted to complain about:  all my financial institutions and email (and blogger) want me to give them my cell phone number so I can log in with a secret code or do data recovery if I get hijacked.  Problem?  I don't text.  I don't have a texting plan. It costs me $0.20 to get a text.   So, one day, I wanted to log on to my bank from work but the work computer hadn't been used before and didn't have a cookie so my bank wanted to call my phone of record with a code I needed to use to log in, so I had them call my house, had the nanny answer the call, write down the code, then call me on my desk phone with it.  And this is supposed to make me like my bank?  I mean, sure I am glad that my money isn't disappearing from my account unauthorizedly (again), but this is not the way to win me over.

Seriously, someone had set up their auto pay on their car payment using my account (a typo I am sure because the bank decided to change everyone's account numbers one day...which was super annoying after having the same account for 15 years...much longer for many others, I am sure), but the bank would not stop the payments because it was a valid account number.  Yes, but I didn't authorize it and this is my account.  I had to figure it out myself and call the GMAC people and make them stop.  very annoying since I didn't have the account number for the auto loan I wasn't trying to service.

Let's also talk about my period, which OMG, I am getting one and after a lifetime of PCOS, this is weird.  The weaning is done and over and I am having somewhat regular menses.  And I have to say, I am not a fan.  How did the rest of you do it all these years?  This is annoying.  Every 35 days or so for 10 days, I have a period.  Then at the mid-month, I feel like I have appendicitis but it's just an egg over there enripening (always on the left).  Then it bursts out (OW, ow, ow) and then nothing for 8 or 10 days (I still have the old luteal phase defect), then BAM, another period.  It's all so....animalistic.  I have feelings at certain times of the month that make me realize I am no better than some kind of ...of...animal.  In heat.  Unpleasant.  And this whole period every month thing is for the birds.  For the last, ohhhh, 20 years, I have had hormonal birth control that stopped (or severely limited) the number and duration of periods.  This uncontrolled thing is craziness. 

So, I guess the tubal ligation is a win since I appear to be fertile like some 23-year old what with all these cycles, but it's a lose because ick, this sucks.  I have a feeling I will be back on something before too long.

Seriously, how do/did the rest of you do it?  I mean the mittelschmerz, the bleeding (that does not come on any sort of actual schedule so you kind of always need to be prepared), the more bleeding because after 10 days, you pretty much feel like you're bleeding to death.  Do you drink  heavily?  Lightly?  Do you have 3-day periods that come like clockwork and are light?

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Phab Photo

No rules today.  Just fun.

This first picture, I think, looks a lot like a hipster album cover.  Or maybe the Allman Brothers.  One of those.  Either way, I think they should use this for their first album.  And then maybe re-stage it in whatever the current year is.  Maybe I will have them re-stage this photo every year for the Christmas card.

I got this photo sent to me via text with a note that said "This is a kiss you."  I thought you needed a kiss.  There.  Better?

So tiny, so unstoppable.  Since I haven't been blogging much, you should know that this baby started walking at 10 months and started running 2 weeks ago.  He was only 15 percentile for size at his one-year visit (he's fallen to a lower percentile at every visit...if that holds at 15 months, we will be discussing it).  So he's tiny, but he's such a good walked that people are constantly asking me how old he is because he acts like 18 months, looks like a 9-month old.  And here he is climbing the swing set.

And here he is where real clothes and shoes.  It's cute when they think they're people.

The other day, the child who can read asked me about Twitter.  We were talking for a while and it came out that I never use their real names on the internet and that I am a little careful about what I will and won't say.  I told them they each had spy code-names.  Chuckles was fine with his.  They all agreed that Trip makes sense, but my favorite code-name of all is Bobo.  Sweet Bobo.  And they all thought that name was stupid.  Dang those children!  Here is sweet, sweet Bobo making what he called "A Love Party".  A love party!  That's just about the cutest thing I have ever seen (except maybe the kiss you up there).

And that's the way it is.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

The Rules

There are rules to life.  If you don’t follow the rules, you will get burned.  Or scorned.  Or something, but it won’t be good because you must follow the rules.  {FYI - This post has nothing to do with current events and has been sitting around in semi-draft form for a while and I just caught 92 consecutive free seconds to hit post.}


Rule:  When you know what you are doing is stupid/dangerous, stop doing it.  I have broken that rule.  Twice.  And both times, my baby wound up on the floor.


Rule: The slow traffic keeps to the right.  If you have trouble with this concept, I will lay it out for you.  The right lane goes 55, the center-right lane does 62, the center-left lane goes 70, and the leftmost lane does Oh-My-God-They-Are-So-Going-To-Get-Pulled-Over.  If you want to do 57 mph, you should just get off of my highway, because I do not have a lane for you.  57 would be going along in the right lane, come up on someone, decide to pass, move to the left and pass at two miles per hour, a car comes up behind them at 62, wants to continue traveling 62, need to get left to pass, and the next thing you know, people are changing lanes all over the place and why won’t you all just leave me alone traveling 70 in the center-left lane?  What is wrong with you?  55 or 62, pick one!


Rule: I can nurse or I can *not* nurse but there is no middle.  Once I stop pumping, my supply drops off so dramatically that the babies usually give up because the effort is not worth it.  However, there is another rule:


Rule: Trip must be allowed to nurse to sleep.  This is a rulE with a capital E.  I have left him at bedtime twice during his almost 13-months of life and both times when I returned, a grandparent was holding him and unable to put him down.  Then he was nursed and put down without difficulty.  A couple of weeks ago, I handed Mr. Long-Suffering a bottle and a baby at bedtime.  This was a mistake as the rule is that Trip must be allowed to nurse to sleep.  So, now we have some weird combination thing going on where I nurse at 5:45 pm to celebrate returning from work (“Reunited and it feels so good”), give a bottle on-and-off from 7 to 8:20 pm, and then nurse Trip to sleep (ceremonially) at 8:30. 


Rule: Your blog, your update schedule.  You will not see a post wherein I explain that I’m not abandoning the blog or that I am creatively tapped out.  What I am is busy.  Very busy.  So busy in fact that when someone told me that she was certain I could find 30 minutes a day to exercise if I made it a priority, I agreed and said that I did, in fact, have 30 minutes a day.  I have 7:28 to 7:30 am, 5:55 to 6:01 pm, 8:03 to 8:07 pm, and the minutes from 9:45 until 9:52 when the laundry needs to come out, and so on.  I have a lot of free time during the day, but I have no, ZERO blocks of free time.  When I was running, I used to put the kids down and go out at 8:30 pm.  I was usually home by 9:15.  Now I use that time to make lunches, check homework, clean and refill bottles.  The last time I was running consistently, I was not making lunches and no one was on the bottle.  I am starting to think that my almost 8-year old is old enough to make his own lunch.  I know I was making my own lunch at that age (but my parents are from the benign neglect school of parenting and I am in the Helicopter Flight School).


Rule: Big business is not managed to make you (me) feel good about yourself.  It is there to make money, and you are merely an asset.  Further to that, I had an interesting exchange with my BFF:

Soooo, I just had my performance appraisal for 2012.  Most demotivating meeting in a long time.  I got a 3 (on a 1-5 point scale where 5 is good).  That’s Fully Meets Expectations.  During this meeting where I was rated average, I was also praised repeatedly for the 7 miracles (only one of which was turning water into wine) I performed in 2012…which is one per month worked since I was out on leave for 5 months.  And then I was told that I was a 3, because we expect miracles from you and our expectations for you are so high.  (And normally, people who are in a new job are rated a 2 because they are learning and not yet up to speed and here they debated back and forth whether to give me the 3 or the 4 and settled on the 3 because I did what they expected!)

Now, that’s demotivating.  But hey, I was praised for my miraculous works.  That’s something.  BFF, having the most awesome sense of humor, sent me the following I hope it shows up because it's the most-perfect Dilbert for the occasion):



Rule: All politics is local.   Real estate may all be about location, location, location, but it’s really all about the School District.  To that end, we have a levy coming up and I have a yard sign.  I am not anticipating any vandalism or theft to or of my sign as the only people opposing the levy are the elderly and they are not known for egging houses with pro-schools yard signs.  Election Day is May 7th.


Rule:  Bad things happen to good people.  Good things happen to bad people.  You only need to worry about yourself.