Black is the color...

I have went back to black. Long gone (not exactly, it was just last night) is the pink hair or even the yellow hair (I will never refer to it as blonde).

Syd was not as crazy yesterday or last night. Bob and I got to unwind a bit last night and hang out with Nikki. Even the dog was chill. Today is rather relaxed as well. I hope this new thing continues.

I am attempting to put off the Mountain City trip until tomorrow so I can make the potluck and first gathering of the Johnson City Vaudevillains. It will be nice to chat up some creative folks and instigate some performance.

Spoken Word Seen isn't launching yet. When school starts we will have a greater base to jump off, so I will wait. It would be hard to launch a separate thing right now when so many people will be focusing on the Vaudevillains. So many who I would like to see on my stage, too. Road blocks are no big deal. It has waited this long.

Bob's B-day is on July 29th. He will be 27. My baby is growin up. lol

Earplugs

Today, she threw such a fit that I cried on the porch after. Her screams were so loud that they bounced off the walls and made my ears do that funny hiss-thing that they do on roller coasters. She is trying to torture me into craziness.

Mean

Syd is being mean. She is refusing toilet training, very vocally. She will NOT be quiet when we tell her to. I'm going out of my mind. She makes me so anxious, constantly. She is always screaming or whining...or both!

Valium, Calgon, gallon of vodka. Something, please. I cannot quit smoking now. The way this feels, I won't be able to until she graduates college.

Oh, the migraine is back.

Sunsets in the city

Sorry if the title of this post fooled you. There will be no adoration of nature's splendor here. There will be no staring into the sky. Instead there were tears and much grumbling about my hair. As yeaterdays post shows. I am now blonde. Wait, I was blonde.

Let me reverse time momentarily. Bobby adored my pink buzzcut I had when Syd was a baby. When it grew out he was dissapointed. I recently began to feel a bit low about my body again so I went for the blonde with the plan for pink. After I saw the blonde, I really liked it. (The last time I attempted a change. I went red and LOVED it. Bobby didn't so it went away fairly quickly.) Bob and Syd wanted me to go ahead and do the pink. Bobby misses the old days I guess and Syd just wanted her mom to have pink hair!

So today after fighting Syd for an hour to take a nap, Bobby approached my hair with pink dye in hand. I was excited perched there on my toilet-throne of hair majesty. The bottle kept clogging. The dye wouldn't cover well. OH, the horror. I am left with pink bits and some still blonde bits and, in the case of the not quite lightened front bits, I have orange streaks. It is a quite a "sunset" of colors really. I am not amused of course and have spent the remainder of the day either moping on the couch or napping. Syd has been a mean little girl all day yelling and screaming at us. She is a mood-swinging booger-head really. It hasn't helped my depression over this hair-disaster that I have had to fuss at her most of the day.

Blah. Sorry, no pics yet. I refuse to allow the camera to be turned on. Gotta go now. It is 11 oclock and Syd has been in bed for two hours! She is now yelling "HUNGRY" at the top of her lungs. I might go out of my mind.....

Yellow

I now have what Sydney calls "Yellow Hair" and will have until I finish the process tomorrow and go pink as Bobby has requested.

Poetry news

Found something funny just now: http://www.poetry.com/dotnet/P7107567/999/1/display.aspx
The copywright should be 2005 but I guess Poetry.com turned into Lulu.Poetry and they updated. I don't know what difference it makes really.

Oh, I placed third in the 2009 Mockingbird (poetry category, of course) and I was just awarded 1st place in the 2nd Annual Johnson City Public Library Poetry Contest (adults category).

Bob is proud of me and Sydney loves to applaud for the poet's at contests. She often tells me that she is writing her poetry when she scribbles on paper. I wonder what she will be when she grows up. I wonder it all the time.

I am working on a project which is currently up on blocks. It will involve my new space www.myspace.com/SpokenWordSeen.

Dog Days

Roswell November 2008

Roswell December 2008

Roswell January 2009... note the glow of evil beginning in the eyes and the smirk she was already practicing at 6 months old.

Love her little heart, but our dog is driving us nuts. She barks like mad the minute anyone buzzes our apartment (think Seinfeld's building) and has a ferocious snarling fit when we have a visitor come in. She barks in the "hey, somebody is out there and I want you to know" tone everytime our neighbor goes in or out their door. This barking doesn't quiet quickly, though, and we worry about how that will fly with the office. Bobby and I have taken turns saying "we just need to get rid of her" while the other says "no, just a little more time". Sydney says we can't because she wants to keep her and "she is the best dog in the entire world." She says she would miss her and, damn it, that kid has a boo-hoo voice that will make you want to take on the world for her. We talked to the trainer at Petsmart today. I am going to try to scrape together the astronomical amoutn for the 8 week class. The trainer says that socialization will help her most of all and maybe we can get a 20.00 coupon. But it is still a hundred bucks...FOR DOG SCHOOL.

(Sidenote: ugh, I have heartburn. jambalaya with chicken, no shrimp, for dinner)

The money wouldn't be too hard to come by if we were getting our deposit back for our old place($415 plus $200 pet). Total B.S there. I cleaned the hell out of the place only to be told, "We still have to clean. The refrigerator is nasty (Uh, no it isn't. The freezer is not wiped out, because I concussed myself while cleaning the fridge and had to borrow ice from the neighbor because my head hurt so bad...and I forgot to clean the freezer) and the carpet is ruined with dog pee (um, another nope)." He says it smells like pee something terrible and the carpet is awful. No, the carpet is awful because it is from the 90s. I know the living room carpet doesn't stink because I laid on it after knocking the crap out of my head in the fridge a week ago while cleaning said dirty apartment. I felt like squatting and taking a leak right there so he would have a reason to complain about pee.

Ah, who am I kidding. I knew we wouldn't get the deposit back. You can just tell some things, you know? There were some scuffs on the wall that had to be painted over and the freezer was dirty (well, not dirty really, just some Popsicle residue and crumbs from some errant chicken nuggets I found when moving out). But, I would eat off the toilet seat, if I were asked to prove my cleaning skills. That house didn't "stink of pee" and if it did, the smell was in the upstairs bedroom where she had a couple of accidents. OH, my question is why did we pay a pet deposit? Wasn't it just for such a situation? And, hell, they charge the tenants a carpet cleaning fee when they move anyway. (which, btw, they never cleaned the guy next door's carpets before renting his place out and he still got charged) The nice lady living there now says she found a few pieces of dried dog poo here and there in a corner. Now what is up with that?? I never saw the landlord agonize over fixing up the place next door as he appeared to be today. The thing is, my carpet is that flat brown stuff. Every neighbor who came in at some point or another in 2 years said "Wow, your carpet looks older than mine. You should ask if they are going to put in the ... " was it Berber, they mentioned? Anyway. I think it was crappy to act like we left a pigsty when I am one of the most clean-freak folks breathing today. Hello! I was in therapy for years for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder! Freaking stress induced cleaning obsession! Argh. Well, water under the bridge and money in their pockets, I guess.

Roswell is sleeping beside Bobby on the bed right now. Bob is doing to work on his laptop and Tiny Trouble is curled up cozy beside him. Oh, how I wish for a big ol' mutt sometimes, but now isn't one if them. She is adorable. We spent some time in the big dog field (its huge!!) training today. Usually she won't respond to food treats outside of the house, but I have found her weakness. Bits of smoked pork from Red Pig BBQ. One small chuck got me through 30 mins of training today. Walk, turn, walk, stop, sit. Focusing on me the whole time. She did great. It was quite warm and when we got back inside, she flopped and napped in the patch of sun in front of the balcony. She has one more walk tonight before it is bedtime and I hope she can do it without threatening to eat one of the neighbors. Cross your fingers.

Uhaul and U unpack

Oh, so tired of boxes and of arranging, then rearranging because there wasn't enough room in the first place. I have yet to find all of my planners and calendars so I can compile them into one cohesive unit. I can only hope that I have remembered all that I have to do. It has been a madhouse, a madhouse around here.
The dog has objected to my new rule about not sleeping on the bed and she made that clear by shit-storming the dining room. Then, later, when she was to be walked she lost normal brain function (otherwise, why would she do this?) and peed as she waddled through the kitchen as Bobby approached her, leash in hand. She has made it her goal to bark ferociously at the neighbors (who don't seem quite fond of our tattooed selves with yippy, shitty dog and screaming, floor pounding child) every time she hears even the slightest sound from them.
I have a sprained ankle (when this happened, I dunno exactly) and I can't run with the 7lb diva, and Bob has almost exhausted his supply of patience. So, her walks are not as active as she would enjoy. We oscillate between getting rid of her and just taping her mouth shut. I am unsure of the genius in my idea to get a dog. Each day I am brought close to the "Call the DAMNED POUND NOW" shriek only to have a wet tennis ball (the miniature one) shoved into my hand. She doesn't want me to throw it, necessarily, but to hold it while she chews on it.
Tomorrow is my date with the Orthopaedic surgeon and I am excited about the improvement with my knee. I may have a few more shots in my future, but those I can handle since they help so much in the long run. PT was going well til I had to take a few days off for the move and subsequent muscle rebellion. Now I can't seem to find time to get back on schedule with them. Then the ankle swelled unreasonably large and we had a new problem to deal with. At least I am not on crutches again.
The old landlord won't call back so we can give them the keys and get our deposit back. I have to call and call again...and I will until I get what I want.
This life, I'll tell you, is rarely boring.

Gotta sign off. We're watching Snatch tonight. Mmmmmm, Mr. Statham, I love you. Angelina and keep Brad.

Bunny tails and moving boxes

Easter came and went. Our house is scattered with festive debris and the unfortunate scent of eggs enjoyed (thanks Bobby). However, I choose not to spend this blog describing foul odors. Several plastic eggs (only half of each) are tucked under the edge of the couch. Green Easter grass is here and there in the kitchen with one strand somehow ending up in the fridge. There is a tall chocolate bunny made less tall by the chomp that removed a fraction of his ears. Mr. Potato Head, dressed as bunny of course, stands on the coffee table with an arm where his bunny ears should be. Apparently, he now speaks through his nose which is plugged in where his toothy smile used to be. There is a CD on repeat that features the chicken dance and several about Easter bunnies (both chocolate and cotton tailed). Thanks E.B, bok bok. There is quite a load of candy since the Easter bunny and Pappy (my dad) went a bit overboard. The overabundance of candy has lead to some stealthy sugar consumption. Syd disappeared quietly last night to resurface with a mouth full of starburst and an Easter basket with tiny yellow paper pieces. It looked like a little mouse had begun a nest. She is very meticulous when tearing off a candy wrapper. Her breath smelled like fruit punch for a bit.
On Saturday night, we baked chocolate chip cookies and dyed eggs. Bob got great pictures which are unfortunately on his computer, not mine. I will load some in another post. The house is far too hectic to attempt the gathering now. There are boxes everywhere.
Moving day fast approaches. Wednesday is the big day. We are quite ready. Almost everything is packed and waiting downstairs to be loaded onto the truck. Bob has a photo project due and he is going to use our moving day. He has to tell a story with a series of photos. He is quite creative and has some good ideas. But, I think he is going to keep is basic. His end photo will be funny though, if all works out. OH! I want to move now!!! The weather is nice, I am energetic... and I want to move around without knocking a shin on a box!
Roswell was fixed on Friday. Well, I should say spayed because she was not broken. She has been resting and getting much, much baby-ing the last couple of days. She is so small and with no food for two days, she looked starved!! She is on the mend, though and appears to be plumping back out. She is still Ribs McGee, but she was always a little skin and bonesy. Syd is sitting in the floor right now singing to her about going to Walmart and Hooters....I thought she forgot about it. No, I did not take her there. Her Mimi (Bobby's mother) took her there. I have my opinions which shall be kept to myself about this. Whats done is done. Well, song has ended and Syd just got in trouble for picking on poor Ros. This action so endeth my blogging.
Pictures eventually. I promise.

After she got here

Maybe I have baby fever, but I had to share this too. First day home with my baby. Guess who will be three in 11 days! (Hint: its not the tall one in this pic.)

Memory Lane

A few pic from a couple weeks or so before Syd came along.

My first pic of my baby girl.

Syd and I went to Abby's baby shower on Sunday. She and Jon Bashor are expecting Henry to arrive May 9th or so. It was great to see another pregger princess. I miss it... a little. Mainly I miss being around pregnant ladies. There is nothing more interesting than seeing a belly move with little feet and arms inside. Well, nothing but seeing your own belly move.

I had to come home and watch this video again simply because it accents just how big my belly was. I am a terrible actress because I was going to pop with person and I have utter shame about that way I pronounce "Oh, God." at one point. But, this is still a treasured memory for us. Bob was trying to keep me from focusing on my big belly, restlessness and aggravation so we created a project. He was a doll for being creative with my bedrest. This is "Rude Awakening". It is a beautiful example of how it feels to be pregnant and unable to get comfortable, sleep, or simply be in your own skin sometimes.

Short but sweet...

My computer was officially a loss, says Best Buy guy. It was "junked out"(could they be more cruel about my precious?) and replaced. I am now the proud parent of a fancy new Compaq. Quite happy for the moment. No major gliches...wait, should I finish that sentence?

Surgery went well. Momma Kitty is feeling no pain and, short of some slight "no-go" issues, it seems that will be the norm from now on. It is nice to have exuberance again. I am confident that even after my friend Percoset leaves, I will be happy girl still.

Sydney is excited about the new apartment. She keeps telling us that we should go right now "to the new house with the pank room". We can't figure when she decided to say "pank" instead of pink, but its so cute we rarely correct her. It is her only country drawled word aside from the occasional "Rawz-way-ul" or "Maw-muh". We haven't gathered the nerve to break it to her that we can't paint the room after all. She is set on the "pank" walls. I have until April 14th to figure that one out.

Hubby is tired. He should be. He has been taking care of alot of stuff lately. It is nice to finally feel like sharing the load.

Sleep well, Michael folks. Tomorrow holds many adventures in store. (and possibly in stores, since there is shopping to do)

First Edition

It is 2 a.m. We have a few inches of snow outside and Weatherbug tells me it is 22 degrees. I am not sure about wind chill and those things, but I do know that it feels very, very cold. Not as bad as the other night, but still uncomfortably cold. Our 5 degree weekend was enough to squash my ideas of moving to Alaska or visiting Greenland. Driving my leather seated, not yet warm car to school the other morning even made me reconsider my love for snow cones and question my adoration of those pink snack cakes called Snow Balls.

Syd is impressed. She enjoys looking out the window and telling us very loudly, "It's snowing again. Look, Mommy, look." She said this a few times today while wearing her princess hat, pink fairy wings, purple ballerina skirt, and pink velvet slippers. She was the very essence of Little Girl and I couldn't breathe for a minute when I first looked at her in her outfit. Today, our kitchen sink drain broke and water started flowing into the kitchen floor by way of the cabinet underneath. Bob and I sprung into action to stop the flood and move anything water soluble out of the way. Sydney, who refused to go and watch cartoons to keep out of the way, stood in the doorway and kept asking, "So, what's the big deal?" over and over. It must've been her catch phrase of the day. I raised my voice at her in aggravation at the leak, but now, thinking back, I regret that horribly. How exciting must it have been to see water coming from somewhere it shouldn't and a mess being made for which she was not responsible. I keep hearing her little voice (which seems so grown up yet helium based) ask about the big deal and I grin.

She is still not potty trained. She goes in the toilet each night before bed, but fights tooth and nail (mostly tooth...but she kicks too) to avoid the potty any other time of day. She tells me to change her diaper and I threaten that if she doesn't use the potty, she will have to change her own diaper. This brings on the giggles and a sweet little "nuh-uh" that makes me laugh, too. She is becoming quite the tooth brushing pro but still screams at having her hair rinsed in the bath. Tonight she used new shampoo. When I kissed her goodnight, her hair smelled like cherries.

Earlier today, while walking the dog, it didn't seem like snow. I had an memory of my great grandmother's house in Hickory Tree. It had a wood stove and the fire had to be tended everyday so cooking could be done. It made for some hot summer mornings, but we just kept the door open. The dogs would come and go in and out, off the wood plank porch. If you were outside and looked up at the stove pipe when the fire was getting "stirred", ashes of burnt paper would shoot up on a gust of breath from the fire and flutter back down. They floated back down slowly and I remember thinking then how much they looked like snow. Today, the flakes fell that same way and seemed so soft. I just remembered how my great aunt would tuck me in under pounds of blankets during thunder storms. That tin roof would sound like it was going to give way and the trees all around us would sway and creak, strain and groan. I was always afraid that some lightning lit evening that house was just going to go. But she would tuck me in under all those quilts when the thunder first pealed (heavy in the way quilts used to be), and I would slip into dreams of being safe. I rarely woke even at the loudest cracks and crashes. Now, I sleep very lightly unless I am tucked tight into a cool bed with the weight of quilts laid across me. I miss that bed right now. It was right by the oil stove so that in winter, I turned like a rotisserie chicken to keep all my sides warm at night.

By the way, my earlier mentioned dog, Roswell, is not a fan of the snow. She growls and barks and generally complains the entire time she is outside. Prissy, little thing can't help it. I can't imagine being 7 pounds and only a few inches off the ground and having to squat in knee deep (to her it is) snow to pee. When she comes back in, she makes a hundred laps around the living room at top speed to warm up. This makes Sydney laugh uncontrollably and with such sweetness that I wish the dog would never tire out. We call it "Puppy Freak Out". My father's dog, Doodles (which used to be my little pooch, Wicket), does the same thing and my dad calls it "The Doodle-Dog 500". It amazes me that a man as broad and tough as my dad calls his lapdog, Doodles, and talks about doggie "num-nums" sometimes.

Bob is hoping that school is called off for him tomorrow. I am on board with that hope. I would much rather have another day of do-little than...wait, I still have laundry, grocery shopping, homework, housecleaning, and art supply shopping to do. So, I guess I am hoping for cleared roads and safe driving...and a few extra hours in the day. Sorry, Bob, to school with you.

9:15 am update - School Closed. Yay, for Bob.