Me and SD

What a day....

This is what has kept me happily amused all day.

I was overwhelmed and humbled by the generous response, many good wishes sent my way which were warm and fuzzy and kind of nice on a chilly January day. If these were my 15 minutes, then I am more than grateful for them.

There were only a couple of black spots on an otherwise spotless day, but I have cleaned them away with a bit of club soda and didn't allow them to mar an otherwise amazing experience. However, they prompted a thought which sort of sums up the whole Tracey vs. SubD schizophrenic and bizarre dichotomy...

Perhaps upon first look it appears that I live vicariously through SD. The truth is, it is she who lives vicariously through me, and that is a pretty healthy place to be.

Diva Eve

I'm going to pretend like this is just a normal night. I'm going to crawl in bed soon with my book that I'll end up reading the same paragraph over and over and still not know what it says. I'm going to pretend that it is every morning that I wake up to read about myself in the newspaper. Yep.

Under no circumstances will I admit that I will be tossing and turning all night long waiting to hear the thud of the paper land in the driveway unto when heard, I will rise on the coldest morning of the last five years and creep outside in my bathrobe, rip the plastic sheath and read the story in the glow of the moonlight while my toes (I presume I still have 10) freeze to the concrete. I will simply lie to all of my friends when they call in the morning that no, I'd forgotten all about it, and is it in today's paper? Really? I'll have to take a look later if I get around to it, meanwhile I have purchased every copy in a 10 block radius after 17 cups of coffee and a half dozen donuts.

Okay, the donut part is a lie because I just had the most depressing doctor's visit to date, and donuts--and everything else but lettuce leaves and tap water--are off of the diva menu until October. And even worse, now I have to start going every 2 weeks so my monthly humiliation has now just doubled itself. Yippee skippy.

All right, I'm going to pretend to sleep now.

Excuses, excuses

Really Good Reasons for Not Blogging this Week:

1.) I'm heinously busy with agents and publicists promoting Suburban Diva, the stage show.

2.) We found out that I'm really 10 weeks farther along than I am, and Oscar is being delivered tomorrow.

3.) I'm in Cozumel drinking Mojitos.

4.) I'm writing with such prolific fury, that I can't even pause to switch windows for 30 seconds.

5.) The Bears signed me to play nose tackle for the Super Bowl.

6.) I finally found a pair of shoes that Jingle hasn't chewed, and I'm learning the Merengue.

Now, The Real Reason:

I'm just too flippin' tired.

Religiously speaking

My sacrifices to the Clearasil god and the Pantene god were acceptable, and so they shone down upon me today graciously.

However, the god of Calories did nothing overnight about my figure and I still look 7 months pregnant. He hates me.

It is yet to be determined if my offerings were pleasing to the gods of photogenics and puppy bladders.

Light a candle, please.

Boo

After the big anniversary celebration last night (which was wonderful, by the way, thanks everyone) this is what Sean said to me this morning:

"Some days you scare the hell out of me. Today is one of them."

Boo.

My End of the Week Nonsense in no Particular Order

OKay, I'm trying not to wig out about this photo shoot, but I'm starting to wig out about this photo shoot.

****

These next two admissions should be entered into the "Cry for Help" file: With all of the car switching around that we've done in the last week, I inadvertantly didn't buckle Amy's car seat in properly upon the last movement. I buckled her into the seat, so when I turned for the first time, her seat fell over with her strapped tightly inside. She screamed for 15 minutes straight even after uprighted, re-secured and soothed. Now everytime we get into the car (it's superglued now, I assure you) she holds onto the car dooor and cries the whole way to our destination. I feel so awful.

Matty was giving little effort to his homework the other night. He was purposely messing it up so he could purposely mess with my head. So I finished his spelling homework for him by writing out his sentences for him.

1. My kids feel like wiggling rather than homework tonight.
2. There is no use talking about it, it won't work.
3. Someone take me out to the middle of the road and shoot me.

(I got 2 in that last one.)

I haven't got a grade back on that one.

******

At the Vet visit yesterday, they informed me that Jingle doubled her weight in 1 month. This can be explained that upon further investigation, my "Goldador" puppy has some Husky in her. So does that makes her a "Goldadorusky?"

No, it makes her big.

(And to the answer to my question to the vet in all seriousness was, "No, there is no such thing a colon ligation.")

15 Years

Happy Anniversary, Sean.

I'm like a vampire, I don't photograph

I just finished the interview. I am mentally exhausted from being witty and charming on demand for 2 hours. We'll see if I succeeded in a week or so.

There's just one little problem.

They want to send out a photographer "to follow me around photographing me doing everyday things."

I wonder what exactly that will entail? Me eating a blueberry pie by myself from the fridge. Me cleaning up puppy poop. Me singing badly whilst straightening my hair. Me cleaning up marshmallows. (I clean up a lot of marshmallows everyday for some strange reason.) Or me blogging about marshmallows.

Oh, this is going to suck.

What am I going to wear?

I just got an interview request for the newspaper to do a profile piece on Suburban Diva. On Wednesday. Here.

I'm wondering if these maternity jeans make me look fat?

Oh yeah...of course they do.

Come Monday

It's a lovely Monday off following a lovely long weekend. We're waiting for Stevie to return from his ski trip--missed him terribly--by doing laundry and baking cookies. Amy is painting masterpieces and Matty is watching wrestling. In a few minutes we'll turn on a rare midday hockey game and I'll pen a few lines on the writing project du jour since I finished the monthly assignments ahead of schedulein some strange gift from the cosmos.

I'll start the sauce shortly for a big dinner and if the dog doesn't piss on the newly cleaned carpets, life will be pretty close to perfect.

Thursday

I could fall asleep sitting up typing this. Literally, my fingers would slow and start typing gibberish while my eyes closed and snapped back open, a little longer and a little slower each time until the shroud of sleep hit completely and I could fight no more.

Amy was feverish all night long, which meant we were up too, and I just got back from the doctor because I was afraid it was an ear infection and we can't afford that at this stage of the game. But it wasn't. It was just a fever which was good, but also meant no help.

Stevie is off on our family ski trip sans family. Or rather with other family because this is the no-fun pregnancy. The puppy is terrorizing my shoes and we're almost out of milk, so it's a pretty rotten day so far. About the only bright spot is that about a week ago I got the best haircut of my entire life, and everyday since I haven't had to wear it in a ponytail.

And now, hfhfohoeihfoief hifheohflncjdhf....


ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....

The limitations of search engines

I need to express my sincere apologies.

I am sorry to anyone out there in cyberspace who goes looking for real counsel and advice and ends up here because of Google's literal interpretation of the world.

I hope the recent surfers who Googled bursitis+in+dogs and allergic+to+swiss+cheese ended somewhere far more helpful than my ridiculous blog.

Godspeed.

Snow and dirt

The puppy is a strange cocktail of the most annoying creature on the face of the planet and wonderful comic relief. Yesterday, I couldn't help but laugh out loud when she came tearing in acting as if nothing was amiss from the backyard looking like this:



So I scrubbed her down in a bath (which she hates) and went on my merry way.

It was not nearly as amusing the second and third time she came in like that.


****

As I was uploading that picture, I found some of our Florida snow day a couple of weeks ago when Santa dropped a load from his North Pole Zamboni in our front lawn.







Actually, that picture of the sad snowman could very easily be one of this damn dog. It is supposed to be sweet and snowy white, but usually has some mud and sticks stuck to her.

Nice.

New Year's Revelations

Things that need to leave this house before they claim any additional victims:


1) The peanut butter pie from New Year's. It is deadly.

2) About 4 inches of my hair and my roots on Friday.

3) That game system the boys bought after Christmas--the little ones succumbed immediately, and now the adults are quickly sinking into its power.

4) Pine needles. In every orifice.

5) The puppy's bladder, kidneys, and colon.

6) The label maker I bought for Sean for Christmas. I am labeling everything as if the shelf with paper towels on it wasn't obvious enough that it had 7 rolls of paper towel on it.

7) About 4 tons of trash.


These items should be replaced immediately with bottled water, a creative and prolific writing streak, the Amazon book order, and a plate of roast beef.

Thank you.

My last 2006 public reflection...

...I swear. Maybe.

While toasting the New Year with good friends the other night, we all announced something we were thankful for in 2006. This was difficult to do at 1 in the morning asleep on my swollen feet, and I'm sure I said something a little cliche.

But now that I've had a minute, I've decided that the tiniest incident the other morning summed up an entire year.

Amy woke up a little congested and walked over to me sniffling. She crinkled up her face, sniffed, and said, "nose."

It was the first time in her entire life that she actually could tell me what was wrong.

I am thankful for everything leading up to that moment.