Sigh...

I spend a lot of time in front of this computer. How's the weather out there?

THESE SMALL HOURS!!!!!!

As my oldest daughter, Sian, climbed wearily into the car after yet another long, 12-hour day of school and play practice, I realized I had never taught her a fundamental method of relieving stress: singing as loud as you can to rock music. At least, I had never forced her to actually do it, although she's had to suffer through my own stress-relieving sessions. After telling her to belt it, I cranked up my current mixed CD and we sang lustily along with ColdPlay and Rob Thomas. She doesn't have as much experience as I do in quelling the feeling of self-consciousness during song-belting sessions, but though she laughed, she persevered. When we got home, she gave me a hug and thanked me.

Am I a good parent, or what?

News Through a Haze

No politics. I promise. I'm way too tired.

News:
I have almost perfected the art of making really tender and flaky Southern-style biscuits.
My supervisor called me "the best outsource writer in the world" today. I put that on my calendar.
Elannah and Sophia both tried out for Annie, and only one of them made it, despite both of them getting call-backs. That was a little painful. Elannah, the lucky one, is an orphan now (not literally) and has a grueling rehearsal schedule. She has wanted to act for a long time, so I hope she's happy.
Husband finished the last re-work of his novel. It should be formatted and sent to publishers soon. He is not expecting anything, but at least he wrote the book.
Gabrielle bought a cat with her birthday money. It was either a cat or a guinea pig, which her sister, who shares a room with her, was not at all excited about. The new cat, Lincoln (or Link, for short), has now been schooled by older and larger Myles. Lincoln knows his place now. I find him mostly adorable.
My part-time job is taking me 8 hours a day.
We got a Kinetico water softener installed. My hair is so soft and silky, Sophia's dry hands are healing up, and I don't feel all that scale in my intestines anymore. It's wonderful.

That's it, folks.

I Vote NOOOOOO!

Ooooh. I've got some things to say about this Healthcare Bill. I've been just stewing about it all day. While I don't have time to write the full 50-page essay entitled, "Why This Bill Stinks," let me just cut the suspense you feel in awaiting my opinion by saying,

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Don't worry. I have a blog post draft saved on the subject, but I'm very incoherent right now. I have to order my thoughts, but I have to wait until I've made dinner and attended to the sick children littering the house, moaning and complaining about sore throats and fevers and ear infections. Sheesh. Suck it up!

(I'm kidding, of course. My poor kids. If it's not the flu, it's Strep Throat and ear infections and asthma emergencies. Who knew moving 45 miles could make you so sick? I'm just lucky I have been able to stay healthy and take care of them, the little darlings, who are about to be sent letters stating that the truant officers have been called because of all the missed days of school.)

Only Two Easy Payments of $19.99!

Because I have had thousands of emails recently from people asking about my skincare routine, I have decided to tell you what I do to keep myself looking 25.

That was a test. Did you catch all my mistakes?

Firstly, you never start a sentence with "because." Why? Because those grammarians never think outside the box, that's why! And then they force the rest of us to follow their little rules in order to get paid. Jerks.

Secondly, I exaggerated slightly about the number of emails. I have never actually had any emails asking about my skincare routine. I believe I forced someone to listen to it once, though.

Thirdly, as much as I would LOOOOVE to look 25 and keep the mental age and wisdom of 38, I simply do not. Look 25, that is. I am certainly very wise, however. (that was also a test. What was wrong with the last sentence?)

But what the heck? For lack of anyone telling me not to, I will reveal to you my skincare routine.

I try to base my entire routine on this theme: "What do I have in the kitchen that isn't going to cost me an arm and a leg and may possibly finally stop these stupid, stupid little zits that still pop up on my decidedly UN-teenager face?" It's a long theme, but I liked it enough to cross stitch it and stick it to my refrigerator. (another test! if you know me well enough, you know that cross stitch is on my list of things influenced by the devil.)

Therefore, here is what I have found works for me:
Removing Eye Makeup: vegetable shortening. Follow with a Face Wash to remove the raccoon look the shortening will give you.
Face Wash: 2 tsp. glycerin (Walmart carries liquid glycerin in the pharmacy), 2 tsp cornstarch, 1/2 cup water; whisk together in small pot and heat until glycerin is melted enough to mix with cornstarch and water. Do not boil. Cool and place in really stylish sour cream container with a cottage cheese container lid. (Alternatively, if I can afford it, I love the Isagenix Isaderm Facial Wash. (Phase 1))
Face Scrub: 1 tsp cornmeal with a little milk. Exfoliate once or twice a week, if you remember.
Moisturizing Facial: 1 or 2 tsp plain yogurt. Slather on your face (do NOT avoid eye and mouth areas) and let it sit until you've watched an entire episode of The Simpsons on Hulu. If you've seen all the new episodes, play Spider Solitaire until you win three games. You could do something more useful, of course, but if you're pampering your face, take a minute and waste out, for goodness' sake. Wash off with warm water.

Also, I make sure I drink lots of hard water (we've got the hardest water in the country right here! Mmmmm. Tastes so good. When I move, I can feel the scale rubbing around in my intestines), eat the occasional fruit, and try not to become an absolute pig when my in-laws come to town with three suitcases full of English chocolate and treats. I said I try.

That's it! Easy peasy! I'm thinking about creating some sort of infomercial.

Am I Just A Little Stressed?

I am trying to keep my brain sharp amidst the hubbub of household chores and using the thesaurus so much that I think it's become sentient (alert, cognizant, knowing) and is signing a petition to unionize.

Keeping my mind sharp mostly consists of listening to the radio talk shows that bore my children to death while I throw together yet another dinner involving pasta. I have also read several books lately, but I can't claim that they've been the sort that do more than amuse.

Yet my brain is so sharp that it sometimes wakes me up in the middle of the night to remind me to worry about things. A Strident Little Voice in my head (a voice that sounds suspiciously like my scary first-grade teacher) starts repeating over and over that the most important thing in the universe to stress about RIGHT NOW is (for instance) that I get those new insurance cards into the vehicles right away. I'm ambushed, you see, being stuck in my most helpless state of mind. After a while, my gullible Subconscious Mind, bored of manufacturing visuals to explain the random trivia and movie clips in my head, has opened the door to the Strident Little Voice, and after listening to its impassioned plea for a while, becomes absolutely convinced that getting those insurance cards into the vehicles is the only thing that will save the world from certain and sure destruction. My Subconscious Mind then starts pushing all the emergency buttons randomly in a frantic state of alarm, setting off the bells and sirens of Fight or Flight. The horrific din eventually rouses my Logical Mind, which turns over sleepily and demands to know the reason for the noise, then tells the Subconscious Mind to calm down and shut up: we'll all get those insurance cards into the vehicles when we get up in the morning. No need to keep going on like that when it's only 4:30 am . But the Subconscious Mind, already in a state of panic and goaded by the Strident Little Voice, is not mollified so easily. For another hour, at least, it keeps screaming and hollering. I wake up grumpy and out of sorts and start looking for those expletive insurance cards.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who deals with this situation. If I am, maybe I need some sort of medication.

I'm Not Psychic AND I'm Unreliable

Wow. I'm so very reliable. And guess what: I'm not even posting pictures at this time.

My kids accuse me all the time of going back on my promises, but the thing is, I have learned to give disclaimers after everything I say we may possibly do. I'll say something like, "I really need to go to the store and get some more milk," and five kids will chime in wanting to accompany me (argh!), but at the moment I utter the statement about going to the store, I'm in the middle of seven other things and remember that I also have to drive [insert child's name] to [insert destination] and still make dinner and complete my text writing for work and possibly get the laundry folded if I can squeeze it in. So, later, when I announce that it's bedtime, I get a chorus of wails and accusations.

"You promised we were going to the store and I could come and I wanted to go because I wanted to wear my Heelies [shoes with wheels in the heels] and buy something with my money and now you're BREAKING YOUR PROMISE!"

All I said was I needed milk.

So now I have learned to either keep my mouth shut in the first place or, if I have unwisely spoken out loud, to add the disclaimer, "...but I don't know if I can do that anytime in the next few years or so."

Which reminds me: I should get some pictures posted, but I get distracted and so I don't know if I can do that anytime in the next few years or so.

(Not that any of you have accused me of breaking my promise. For that I thank you from the depths of my heart.)

So, want to hear the latest news? If you're still reading this, I'll assume you'll continue, possibly because of the laws of inertia.

Husband has submitted his short story to several publications and it has been rejected every time. While it's discouraging, he is keeping in mind that he may have hours and hours of writing ahead of him before he gets published at all. Personally, (and this is a professional opinion and not merely a doting wife's opinion) I think his story is hilarious and well written. The first time I read it, I laughed so hard I was choking. Just last night I suggested he submit it to some British publications, as his humor is, naturally, British and may appeal or be understood more over there. He is almost finished giving his novel the once-over, but I think he's going to change the plot line a little.

My work as a professional writer and editor is both fun and exhausting. I often get clients who expect me to be psychic and this happens more often then you would think. I will get some information from them and then write up two or three pages of website text, only to find that they are upset because I didn't add information that they were apparently only sending me mind-to-mind. Usually, when I explain that my psychic powers are, as yet, mostly undeveloped, they are very nice about it. A couple clients have been upset enough to get really mad. When that happens, I just pass them up the line to my more psychic supervisor. I also haven't written text for the same type of website twice. I've done plush dolls, a clothing boutique, insurance adjusters, and electrical services, to name a few. I don't know much about most of that stuff. I'm mostly winging it.

The kids are doing well. Sian got a part in the high school play, which surprised her. She only tried out because she has to get 40 hours of backstage work in for this semester of her stage crew class, and the current school play is Man of La Mancha, which requires the actors onstage to move sets and scenery. She figured the only way she'd get enough hours was to actually be in the play, so she tried out for the chorus. She ended up getting an actual part (the horse and a gypsy). I think she may have caught the acting bug now.

Gabrielle managed to break her little toe over the Christmas holidays, so she has been on crutches for a while. She was running down the stairs and slipped at the bottom, ramming her foot into the door jamb of the family room. (Did you know Walmart will lend you crutches for a $25 deposit? You get the money back when you bring the crutches back.) This has put a crimp on her active lifestyle, of course. She's having a hard time accepting that she can't play basketball for a few more weeks.

The rest of the kids are doing well. I could go into individual descriptions, but this post would become more like a tome, although I just checked the length and it's at least a novella.