This whole Vlog thing is definitely much more convenient, but just as equally strange. I'm far more comfortable sitting at a keyboard, typing the words as they come flying into my head. And at a home office, you can sit there in your jammies, sporting a bed head coiffure, with a charcoal mask on your face and no one has any idea that you look like a disaster. You just have to SOUND like you've got your shit together.
Most of my day is spent alone, so I do a lot of thinking. (I also do a lot of very bad singing along with the radio, but I promise to spare you from that hellacious experience).
Sometimes I'm mulling over the direction I can take the characters in my book (Yup... I'm STILL writing.). On a good day, ideas are flying in and out of my head... and they are literally flying, because it never fails that by the time I pull over to write them down, they're long gone.
In the midst of all of that, I think about things going on in my life or in the world around me. If I had a dollar for every time that I said, " this would make an excellent subject for a blog post!", you and I would be sitting somewhere having a fabulous lunch at an expensive restaurant.
Alas, you are over there, reading these ramblings, and I am over here, trying to get this out of my head and in writing. Next time, less writing and more convenient video.
So, without further ado, I present to you today's babble about my arch nemesis .... sugar.
Ps. Proof that my child doesn't just eat crap in case you decided that I'm a bad mother after hearing about what's in my garage:
I started this blog a bunch of years ago when my daughter was a wee toddler and I was trying to find a way to cope with being a working mom with a handicapped husband.
The main issue at that time was that I felt as though my daughter had bonded with my husband far more than she had bonded with me. Of course this is to be expected, considering that he spent every day with her, as he was unable to leave our home due to his medical condition. In turn, that meant that I was working every day and wasn't at home as much as we ALL would've liked.
I'm pleased to say that things have changed since then. With lots of work, communication, debating, arguing, hurt feelings, guilt, rejection, and forgiveness we have managed to find a situation where we all are happy together and everybody feels loved and supported (most of the time....no one is perfect!) I'd sum up that time period as "a pretty rough start to what has potential to finish as a success story". Yay for us!
Recent milestones outside of my little wolf pack have triggered some new issues that I need to deal with. It seems like the issues never end, doesn't it? I think that's the whole thing about life. We just keep plugging along looking for answers, and try to be grateful that we have questions that keep popping up. I think once you stop having issues, there's not a whole lot of breathing or bodily functions going on at that point (a/k/a you're dead).
Moving on, now I need to start taking care of my heath and this is the new general-issue that I'm tackling. I keep thinking that I wish I have appreciated youth and good health more. I took all of those easy years for granted!
Some of you may know that 2017 started off with a big old rough patch for me. From January through early May, I had all sorts of crazy symptoms, saw almost every kind of doctor (Im still avoiding the proctologist! 45 years and counting.....Score!), and ended up with absolutely no answers. It was a pretty scary time for me.
Worse yet, I'd become so desperate for ANY diagnosis, that every single doctor who told me they didn't know what was wrong with me got to witness 'Vicki In Tears'. And I'm not a pretty crier, just in case you were wondering. One physician stared at me in horror.
Surprisingly, I also became desperate to hear anything in regards to what was going on with me. And I mean anything. I would go to appointments to obtain test results, and tell myself that I would be happy even if they diagnosed me with cancer, because it least it would be an answer and I could treat something. I just wanted a chance of being me again.
As I mentioned, I never got any answers. Lots of treatments and medications and recommendations, but no answers. The one thing that I did have was a friend who knew exactly what I was going through. That in itself was priceless.
Wendy IS priceless. And a warrior. And wise. And she didn't leave me alone when I needed someone to keep heaving my ass up and push me along my path. (This'll freak her out....) She was like my own little mortal Jesus, carrying me when I was too pathetic to walk thru life. Lol!
"I worry when you get quiet. Send proof of life." Those words let me know that I couldn't just shut down and hide with my family. I had someone to answer to.
Then there was guilt. Guilt because while I was so happy to have someone who understood, I also love her greatly and wanted her to find answers to HER issue and relief of her own. She is still searching for that. She was my rock..... and she still suffers while I am feeling better.
I'm sure you're wondering what my point is here, aren't you?
My point is twofold.
Number one, I'm so grateful for Wendy. She taught me many things, but one of the largest lessons is my number two. (Meaning, my second point... not my poop)
Number two, nobody likes to go through crap alone. And there are a lot of us struggling with so many different trials and tribulations and dramas and traumas. We should try to come together and support each other, especially when you find somebody desperately trying to cope with an issue similar to yours.
(Side note: Dont sink...SWIM! It's essential to find someone who will float with you, not drag you down. If you feel like you're drowning with them, BAIL!)
So, I'm putting my shit out there. I believe that a good portion of the things that ail me are a result of the fact I'm extremely unhealthy right now. Granted, I rarely drink and I quit smoking over a decade ago. The only drugs I take or ones the doctors prescribe. I see a therapist regularly to help me deal with the ups and downs of life, as well as to help me interpret my husband.
I say interpret, because I swear we speak different languages sometimes and my therapist is excellent at Manterpretation. And no, you may not have his name and number, because he is totally fucking excellent and I don't want anybody infringing on his availability to me. (Lol)
Hopefully I'll be able to honor my commitment here, because what I'm getting at is that I'm going to be posting my journey on my blog. I hope to succeed, but I imagine there will be some failures along the way, because even though my husband tells me that I think I'm always right, I know it's not true.
Feel free to comment, offer encouragement, cry on my shoulder, commiserate, and any thing else you feel like adding along the way. And if you would like to join me in the efforts, I would be honored.
Here's my first entry:
Ps. Don't judge the hair and makeup....I work outside and I'm sickly, so cut a sister some slack!
Can you believe it? 2016. Who woulda thunk? I can remember when 2001 seemed like a futuristic date and we have breezed right past that one at least 15 times.
I'm still writing that book. Yadda yadda yadda. I won't bore you with details. Holding a printed copy with the words "Published 2016" inside is my big goal for the year. I feel like I'm giving birth. The amount of research and writing and rewriting and editing and cursing requires about the same amount of effort as it was figuring out what being pregnant was all about.
This evening we finished dealing with our Christmas gifts. Actually, let me preface that by saying that Allie's gifts were OUR gifts this year. I don't think there was one thing that she got that either Justin or I were not excited to play with. I'll tell you about the imported puppet theater that my mom got for her another time..... but I will say that I was so excited about it that I was the first one to have a hand rammed inside of a puppet's ass when Allie opened them.
We had a very slim Christmas. Funds were low, so Justin and I agreed that we shouldn't get each other anything. After all, we pretty much have everything we need. And what we don't have, we can just buy for ourselves. Instead we directed our giving to our daughter, niece, nephew and the parental units.
You know what?
It was freakin' awesome! The stress was minimal. No scrambling. No overspending. We just focused on Allie's enjoyment.
The best gift I got this year was a small taste of what the "financially impaired" people do. Other than discount shopping for gifts and cutting out "the luxuries", the most enlightening moment was buying coffee with dimes. Yep. Dimes. And it didn't even embarrass me or piss me off. Instead, I had this lightbulb moment where I thought, 'When we get back on our feet, I don't ever want to forget what this is like." And that was the best tasting cup of coffee I think I ever had!
So back to this door/gift situation.....
Way back in September, my friend, Rose had sent me some information via Facebook about this adorable thing she found..... and that she thought Allie would like:
How stinkin' cute is that? Allie loves it! She received it as a Christmas gift from her pain in the ass elf on the shelf, Elf Annette. And in true parental style, we decided to use it as a tool of manipulation.
Anyway, as with anything crafty that I do, I have to be a giant pain in the ass and super fussy about how it will look. I did research on Pintrest about different ways to display them, and then contacted them directly and annoyed them a little bit, and after she got the gift, I spent 5 weeks trying to find the "perfect shadow box" to use.
This evening, after the 7,482nd time that Allie asked, "When are we going to install my Fairy door? Can we do it now?" we finally gave in decided that the moment was right and did a Fairy door installation.
There is now an additional door in my home in which small winged creatures, of the non-insect persuasion, can spy on my child and exchange notes on the sly, all while leaving sprinkles of sparkly fairy dust which will surely end up stuck to my dog's super fluffy tail. And I will the Fairy will probably have cramps in my her right hand from writing on the teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy super-small note papers they give you to put in the mailbox. BUT..... it's all seriously cute, and she loves it, so it's worth it. SCORE FOR AUNT ROSE!!!
Justin was a champ about installing the shadow box, door and mailbox. The door and accessories themselves were very easy to install. It's all velcro and tacky adhesive that attaches easily but doesn't seem to ruin the paint when you remove them. Modifying and making the shadow box removable yet sturdy was probably the only part that required work. And despite the fact that I did the whole "an inch to the left......now up a bit.....too far, move it down......it's crooked..... now it's crooked the other way" thing, he didn't yell or throw his screwdriver at me!
(Although, when he finished and I took a photo of him and Allie next to the door, I DID sense some tension on his face.)
He's a gooder. I'll keep him. (Plus, he played "Elsa and Anna" with Allie today and he didn't give me the "this is hell, please save me" face even once.... major good dad points there!)
Here's Allie with her door. She was so excited and is already writing up teeny notes to leave for the Fairy. I'm sure I'll be posting this on the company's Facebook page.
The company is in Australia, but other than the 2 week wait time for shipping, they are wonderful to deal with. And the US to Australia exchange is great! Santa paid less than the prices listed. If you would like to check them out, here is their webpage The whole concept is just adorable! It's the Lil Fairy Door company.
Valentine's Day is around the corner.... I'm guessing that the Fairy will be required to leave chocolate for Allie this year. I'm praying that this won't become as frustrating as Elf Annette is/was. However, knowing that little pain in the ass precious being, if the Fairy is a friend of Annette's, she will be just as high maintenance as her elfish buddy.
Wishing you all a very Happy Valentine's Day!
xoxo,
Vicki
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Didn't summer just start? Here in NY, it didn't even get moving until mid-July and just when I started enjoying it, BAM! School.
Allie will be in Pre-K this year. Her last year before her formal education begins. The last year that she probably will enjoy the entire day of school. After this there is homework. Yes, Kindergarten has homework.
What the hell? Again!
What happened to half days of Kindergarten where you fought over all of the germy toys, took naps, and ran around like lunatics? Now they are full days of school, and the toys and running around are limited. And no freakin' nap!
The nap has officially been removed from the curriculum. This, my friend, is where the nap went to die. I had hoped that the other grades would catch on to the handiness of the nap and then eventually this would evolve into a mandatory daily work event. When you're five, you don't want to nap! It's when you're 35 that you need a siesta!
Think about it.... 2pm in the middle of the day, you bust out your comfy pillow and favorite woobie and take a snoozle. 25 minutes later, you wake up refreshed and ready to move on. It would BEHOOVE companies to have a mandatory nap time.
Also, rumor has it that kids should be reading in Kindergarten. When I was in Kindergarten, there were two kids who knew how to read. And they were shipped off to sit with the 2nd graders for a bit during the morning for some sort of kiddie book club. And those kids really wanted to just stay in the classroom and play with the germy toys, take a nap, and run around. You were a freak if you knew how to read at that age. Now it's no biggie. My mother can no longer puff up with pride when she tells people that I was one of those two reading freaks. Parents these days are probably thinking "Big whoop. All kindergarteners can read now. Get over yourself."
Speaking of reading, I thought I'd clarify a little something.
As I mentioned last time, yes I am writing a book. I will not tell you what the book is about yet, but I can confirm that it is NOT a memoir or about a certain scandalous company that I used to work for. Are we clear on that? All of the people from my past do not need to worry. I'm not going to share deep, dark secrets about past relationships, so you can chill out.
Now, in regards to that aforementioned scandalous company, should someone come into a little cashola and want to pay me to gather info and write a book, then I'm available and I'm talkin'! We all spent our years at that place saying, "I could totally write a book about this place. The shit that happens here is craaaaaaaazy!" You know who you all are! If you're up for it, I'm game!
It's a fiction novel and I'm 1/3 done. I'm doing research and whatnot now before continuing but I'm very excited about doing it. November is National Novel Writing Month and I'm hoping to finish the next third of the book as I join the other NaNoWriMos (yes, this is an actual organization) in the commitment to write 50,000 words of my novel.
Anyway, back to school......
Tomorrow is orientation for Allie's school and Friday will be her first day back to school. I will be taking the obligatory "First Day of Pre-K" photo and I might even post it on Facebook or Instagram like the rest of the parental population. I'm sure the people without little deductions roll their eyes and groan when school begins as we parents clog up their social media with photos of kids they don't care about. I'm pretty sure I was an eye roller before Allie. But throughout the flurry of photos, someone posted this and I can't believe it took so long for someone to come up with this witty little snapshot:
Well done, KC Walsh! Well done!
And while I'm complaining, does anyone know who the fucker was that decided all swimming pools should close on Labor Day? Who was that rotten bastard? And why Labor Day? Every year, it's blazing freakin' hot the week of Labor Day and I stand there, sweating, on my front lawn, ogling the pool across the street that's completely full of water and totally operational..... but padlocked.
I hate them. They should be sent to Guantanamo Bay Detention Center, forced it sit in the sun and stare at a refreshing body of water for just as long as I have to sweat outside and gawk at my pool. It's just plain wrong. At least drain the damn thing so I don't have to look at it, and be tortured by the memories of the cool refreshing water that I submerged my body into on those dreadfully hot sunny days.
And with that, I must leave you to put my little human, and my big self, into bed. After all, it's a pre-school night!
Toodles!
xoxox
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Yes, it's as bad as it sounds. I listen to Audible.com all day while I work, then I spend a little time each day writing my own book, then I actually read books late at night thru Kindle. My daughter has an obscene collection of books and we still take out more at the library. We have 12 book shelves full of books that I struggle to part with. I keep books in the bedroom, bathroom, living room and my car. If you open my trunk, you see books there too. I collect books from people and donate them. And the icing on my cake of insanity? During my "free time" (i.e. stuck in traffic, walking an extra-sniffy dog or in the bathroom) I look on Amazon for MORE books that might catch my eye.
But now I've found literary whoredome. What is that? Its when you JUST CAN'T HELP YOURSELF AND SPEND YOUR TIME OBSESSIVELY READING SOMETHING TRASHY.
And what might that be?
I know you all are curious!
It's this.....
And you know what?
I'm just loving it!!!! It's a gossipy little publication that I can't put down.
Here's the thing. I used to see commercials and ads for Holly Madison's "Girls Next Door" show on E! At the time, I was a devoted US Magazine reader (it was the Entertainment Bible, you know!) and there was always something in US about the show or one of the girls. That gawd awful Kendra Wilkinson kept me from ever watching it, but I always thought 'that Holly girl looks too sweet and normal to be involved with these people'. She seemed somehow "better than" the others.
Her story is a doozie! She was a target for almost every female that lived in the Playboy mansion because..... here it is again..... she was too nice. (HOW DARE SHE??? That's just the worst, like, EVER!) Unfortunately, her self image was crap and she permitted the abuse, so it was kind of doomed to happen. I don't want to give too much away, so I'll silence any rant I have about her story.
BUT.....
I deeeespise that Kendra! She always annoyed me. A few weeks ago, we turned the tv on and as we skimmed by the channels, we saw that she was sitting in bed with her husband, berating him about how he had an affair with a transexual. Just on and on and on and on with her never ending bitching and sense of entitlement. She's wrecked because she can't believe he cheated on HER! And with a transexual! But not too wrecked to resist telling the entire world about how wronged she was and to emasculate her husband (who already lost a good bit of his manly rep by cheating with a transexual individual).
All I could think of was, "Do you know how pathetic you look? If my husband cheated on me, the last thing I would be doing is telling everyone in the world just so people could feel sorry for me! Instead, we all are thinking that you must be quite the bitch by the way your are carrying on and no wonder he cheated!" (women everywhere just cringed..... sorry!)
Quit being a mess, Kendra! We are over it. Zip it!
Now I read this little sassy story by Holly Madison and see that Kendra was always a self-serving, fame hungry, entitled witch. You know why she's so mad about the book? Let me tell you why! It's not because Holly said a lot of nice things about her (which she DID) It's because HOW DARE someone repeat her rotten behavior from that point in her life???!! SHE'S A VICTIM, DAMMIT!!! And only SHE can rehash the horrible behavior of others..... like her husband, Hank.
Side note: any PR person who can fix that man's image should be a billionaire. Lamar Odom will recover faster from his own scandal than Hank will, because his wife won't shut the fluck up about it! We will surely never forgot how he did her wrong and she doesn't want us to.
Kendra..... The Mascot for The Girls of Entitlement
And so, my friends, it is here that I regret to inform you that many of the members of Generation Z (after the millenials, are now in their late 30's) think that Kendra is "awesome" and "so cool". They can relate to her and think that her attitude is totally spot on. I can barely stand looking at her, so that explains why I do a lot of head shaking when I'm around the Zs. (You know who they are by the narcisstic and/or complaining posts on Facebook.... it's all about how they are fabulous and/or have been wronged by everyone, including you at some point, even though you don't know it)
I think her book may be the hidden manual for how to deal with the Zs. What we need is someone to read it and evaluate this nut so we know what we are dealing with. Any volunteers?
God help us all.
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