This Whole Post Is Weird

It's been about two weeks since I wrote my last post, in which I promised to "get much more bloggy up in here." Which, A) did I actually say that? What am I, a blogging gangster? and B) who am I kidding? I can't keep my life together enough to make promises like that. But here are a few things that have happened since my last post:

1.     I got hired on as a temporary secretary at my church for two weeks while the real secretary is out of town. And I mostly just say, "Uh, I dunno. She'll be back on the twenty-first..." Well, that AND I'm doing a lot of graphic design stuff, which is so much fun and I think I may have missed my calling. If graphic designers all use Microsoft Publisher and "borrow" images from google. So, no? [A rant about Microsoft Publisher was here, but has been redacted because who the heck cares about my software preferences and also who the heck still uses Publisher?] So, YAY INCOME! For a little while, anyway.

2.     I had a second interview for a job I was very excited about. SPOILER ALERT (because of course there's another shoe needing to drop here): I was my usual Chronically Honest self and, when asked if I saw this as a long-term opportunity, I spewed my Texas plans and my new hippie "I'm going where ever life takes me" philosophy and told them I couldn't guarantee more than a year, although I wanted to stay longer than that. If you're really clueless about how the world works, skip down a little to find out how this ends.

3.     I realized I've forgotten how to be a productive member of society. That was a nice little wake-up call.

4.     My goddaughter was born! She's beautiful and healthy and wonderful and I'm so excited to get to watch her grow. Until I move to Texas. But we're not talking about that today. [A bitter rant about how some women have conceived, gestated, and given birth to whole children in the time I've been unemployed was here, but was also redacted because OOOOH PRETTY BABIES!!!]

5.     I started carrying a concealed handgun. And before you put on your judgey pants or gasp and clutch your pearls, let me explain:

• It is legal for me to do so where I live;
• I have had training on the safe and effective use of handguns;
• My church has recently received some threats and I spend a significant portion of my day alone in the unlocked building (by nature, the church needs to be unlocked). While the danger is probably not very high (the police are involved, nothing new has happened in about three weeks), the threatener is mentally unstable and I'd rather not tango with him unarmed;
• It is concealed so as not to cause a panic or instill fear in the normal church people;
• I have permission of the pastors and elders who run the church;
• I am not the only one in this building armed at any given time on any given day;
• I will not use it unless is it ABSOLUTELY necessary, which is a highly unlikely event. But that's why you carry a gun: to be prepared for that highly unlikely event.

ANYWAY. The reason I bring it up is that this is new and slightly weird. And, while I've always supported the CONCEPT of responsible handgun use, I didn't realize how much it would affect me to carry one. I am suddenly HYPER-AWARE of the deadliness and the social implications of having one on my person or around my house. I have also spent significant time thinking about dangerous scenarios and how I would react (both legally and morally). And then there are the SILLY things. Practical things like how this chunk of metal affects my balance, which clothes I wear, and how I maneuver throughout my day to keep it concealed. I guess what I'm saying is that this is so much more REAL than I thought it would be. Which, duh, of course it is. It's a huge responsibility and you shouldn't take it on without taking into account ALL of the variables and risks, which I believe I have done. What I'm saying is, it's no longer an abstract, cut-and-dry issue to me any more.

And, listen, I'm not really looking to have a politically charged gun discussion, but I DID bring it up, so if you MUST, give it a go. We can get ALL DISCUSSY in the comments, which isn't something that's ever happened here. Not that I'm mentioning this to BE DISCUSSY. Whatever. The bag is empty, the cat's gone, let's do this thing.

6.     I didn't get that job (cue everyone's SURPRISED FACE). And I know I said that if I didn't get it, I'd start looking in Texas and it would be the Lord's way of showing me His path. And I still completely believe that. But. Can I just say how incredibly discouraged and worthless I feel right now, just mere hours after I got the rejection call?

It's been 11 months of unemployment. It's been multiple failed interviews (I count them as failed if I didn't get the job, which is very glass-half-empty-of-me, but there it is). It's been 14 months of looking for a job. It's been THREE YEARS of work-related headaches, heartaches, and walletaches. And it's moments like these that make me ask the ridiculous and self-pitying question: Why doesn't anyone want me?

Tomorrow, I'll start again. Tomorrow, I'll turn my eyes toward Texas. Tomorrow, I will remember the Lord's promise. Today, I just want to look at Him and ask "Why?" and "How much longer?" and take comfort in the fact that He's a big enough God to handle my questions and doubts.

7.     There really isn't a seven, so go ahead and jump in with your comments now. Just know that if you're mean to me about #5, I might cry extra hard because of #6.

In Which I Make Zero Sense, Anger Moms and Pet Owners, and Become a Bad Babysitter

Godson is over today. He's currently napping, which makes this a perfect time to blog. If only I had anything remotely interesting to say. This would probably be a better time for me to nap, as well. I don't know how the mom bloggers do it. I guess if I had him all day every day, I would have a space set aside for him to play by himself, instead of having to watch him like a hawk because the house isn't baby proof and we have a few breakables. Luckily, most of those are up high, due to Satan's Cat. Come to think of it, having Satan's Cat is a lot like having an unruly toddler around all the time.

Oh, hold onto your angry words, mom bloggers. I am not comparing my cat to your baby. I know they are nowhere near the same thing. In fact, I HATE it when people call their pets their "babies" because no. Just no. That is a dog. You may bring it with you everywhere, strap it into a special seat in your car, and feed it only the organic whole grain crap-in-a-pouch that you find in the refrigerated section at the grocery store (!), but it is REALLY just a DOG. I know you love it (I love my pets, too), but it is NOT A HUMAN. It can survive without your constant attention. Whether you can survive without giving it constant attention is another thing entirely.

But if we're talking about sheer destructive power, I think my cat might be able to wreck more than your average toddler. Sure, she doesn't have opposable thumbs (oh how badly she wishes that weren't true), so things like permanent markers on the walls is out of her depth (I think...). But she can climb higher than a two-year-old and has uncanny aim when smashing valuables. Plus, when was the last time your toddler poked holes in all the bags of bread in your house and waited for all of it to go stale and/or moldy? Toddlers may be destructive, but Satan's Cat is nefarious.

Anyway, this was not supposed to turn into MY CAT CAN BEAT YOUR KID kind of argument. I'm just saying that feline-proofing your house is very similar to child-proofing. She will eat anything paper or plastic, so the floors have to be kept pretty clean or she'll choke. That's pretty useful to have already accomplished when Godson comes over.

I am very off track. I had just planned to tell you about my morning with Godson. And to compliment you moms on how you get it all done and still manage to blog without someone spilling orange juice on your keyboard (I would hesitate to type that because that hasn't happened yet and I wouldn't want to jinx it, but we don't have any orange juice in the house, so I think we're safe). But instead of complimenting you, I somehow got in an argument with you. Let's start over, shall we?

Godson is over today. He's currently napping, which makes this a perfect time to blog (heh... I'm a VERY literal person). His mom had to work the opening shift, so she brought him over at 9:00 am, still in his jammies. We watched two episodes of Little Einsteins, which I chose over Dora because. Well, because Dora drives me nuts! Listen, I love knowing how to speak Spanish and I plan to teach my kids from an early age. But probably without Dora's help. So I chose Little Einsteins, thinking it might be more educational and a little less obnoxious. Go ahead, call me a Noob. Who knew that climbing the Matterhorn was as simple as three switch backs? I would have done it years ago! And the little blond girl that starts all the songs? GAH!

Well, the kid loved it and seemed to understand more than I thought he would. So I shouldn't complain. But then there was Mickey Mouse Club House. Does anyone else HATE Mickey's voice? I don't remember him being so obnoxious when I was that age. But maybe the high-pitched sing-songy thing common on kid's shows today was something I just didn't notice back then? Finally, I shut off the television (under the guise that "it's not that good for him" but mostly because I couldn't hack it anymore). I changed him into real clothes (an adorable button-down and dark jeans, because him mom is awesome like that!).

Then we played with some new animal toys I had bought him. A few weeks ago, I had bought some from the Target "See Spot Save" section for $2.50 a piece. A lion, a zebra, an elephant, and a giraffe.

They scared the bejesus out of him!

The end of the elephant's trunk was red, as was the inside of his mouth. And Godson kept saying, "No! HURT!" and backing away with his hands over his mouth in fear. I finally had to hide them from him to get him to take his bath. I took them back the next day and was kind of bummed that I had no kid toys at my house for him. A few days after that, I found similar (but friendlier) ones at a CRAFT STORE of all places for $1 each. So I bought an elephant, a giraffe, a lion, a tiger, a zebra, and a hippo. More toys, less fear, and for $4 less. SCORE.

We played with these for a while and then we colored. The power went out and we talked about the "broken" lights. The power came back on and we KEPT talking about the broken lights, which were no longer broken. We ate lunch--he can be a picky eater, but I got him to eat an entire thing of blueberry yogurt and some crackers, so I'm calling it a win. We crawled around on Sister's bed playing peek-a-boo with the covers. I "threw" him in the air to land on her pillows. We played with the animals some more. We talked about how all of them had tails and ears and eyes and noses. We made the noises. We talked about their colors and spots and stripes and teeth (which were vaguely scary to him, but I think I have him convinced that they don't "bite," they "kiss."). We bashed them together, we threw them on the floor (we threatened to take them away), we played nicely again. We went down for a nap.

And all of this is probably incredibly boring to you and I don't blame you. I love the kid and enjoy spending time with him, but these activities are not exactly high on my priority list. The only reason I'm listing them out is that it is 1:00 pm and he will be up from his nap soon and I AM OUT OF THINGS TO DO WITH HIM!

Help me, please? I've got some playdough. Is two-and-a-half old enough for playdough? If I watch him REALLY closely? And on the bad/good babysitter scale, where does taking him out in the snow without snow pants fall? I mean, he's got boots and a winter coat. But probably no gloves. And definitely no snow pants. So probably on the "bad" end of the scale, right? Because freezing a child is a bad decision... Okay, how about sitting him in front of the television until 6:00 pm. Also bad? Hmmm. Maybe we will go for a drive somewhere. Like the LIBRARY! Libraries are good for kids, right? We'll pack him in the car and-- Wait. Nope. The scary treacherous Snow Anxiety will probably send me right over the edge if I have to worry about my bones AND the bones of a toddler who doesn't belong to me. I think we'll be staying home, thankyouverymuch. So, um, playdough?

Terrible Twos & Things Roommate Should Already Know

Godson is over today. His mom works in retail, so her hours are variable and his regular sitter can’t always take him. So, when I’m unemployed, I take him about once a week or so. Today, she brought him over a few hours earlier than her shift so that we could hang out and eat lunch together.

However, Godson is having a week of the Terrible Twos. This is especially odd because he is usually such a well-behaved, sweet little boy and usually is content to play near us or sit on a lap while we catch up. Not so, today. Since he arrived at 11:00 am, he’s had two time outs, a quick swat (what my mother always calls Shock Pops, since they don’t hurt at all, are very quickly administered, and serve merely as a warning and a redirection of attention), and is now napping, earlier than usual. We're into the whole bending-the-knees-refusing-to-stand-failing-to-listen-defiant-and-grumpy-and-clingy phase. I think it might be a growth spurt or a flu bug, but it doesn't really matter. We've still got to deal with the behavior. Which is not always fun for Auntie Elise (all of you moms out there are laughing at me and rolling your eyes. I can totally see you; don't think I can't!). I’m hoping to get this post done before he wakes up and we go for Round Two. We’ll see.

Yesterday, I posted Roommate’s answers to my Sunday Meet & Greet Survey, which I hope served as a good introduction to one of my favorite people. Today, I thought I’d attempt to answer at least some of the questions she posed. It all depends on Godson, really, and today is probably not the best day to test that. Oh well. Here we go:

My questions to you (whenever you feel like it, add your reasoning behind your answers)

Question the first: Out of the states that you have yet to visit, which is your favorite?

This is a ridiculous and silly question, but I will answer it as best I can. Since I was a little girl, I have always loved Colorado. Except that I have never been there. I think it’s because one of my childhood friend’s had relatives there and would go visit and have a great time and came back with wonderful stories, so I always wanted to go. Also, I think the Carolinas hold a certain appeal. But to be honest, I would love to visit most of the states I have never been to. With the exception of maybe Kansas or Arkansas, because I’ve been told all kinds of (probably stereotypically untrue) things about how boring those places are.

Question the second: What is your favorite spot in the entire world?

I’m kind of in love with Roommate’s Uncle’s beach house that we stayed at in Hawaii (minus the tiny ants that I went all ninja on). But more than likely, if there was any place in the world that I could choose to be at any given time, it’s tucked into the corner of my awesome purple couch with a good book and a blanket. Although I am rather partial to being tucked under my Papa’s arm on my parent’s couch watching educational TV. It’s just so… soothing? comfortable? It’s just so right.

Question the third: Coke or Pepsi?

Pepsi. Diet Pepsi, actually. But definitely Pepsi. In fact, Roommate… I’m kind of offended you even had to ask…

Question the fourth: What is your single favorite memory from college?

Funtain Diving, hands down. Someday, I will blog about Funtain Diving. But every time I try to write it, I can’t quite capture the essence of the ceremony and tradition. That's just the favorite, though. I really enjoyed the rest of it, too. Especially the times we lived together (without Liar). Those were pretty awesome times.

Question the fifth: What is your favorite flower?

Alstroemeria? Or maybe Crocus? All I know is that I love flowers, especially colorful and good smelling ones. I’m not really picky about which ones, as long as they are beautiful and arranged nicely. This will either make it very difficult or very easy for my future husband. Maybe someday, I’ll develop a favorite…

Question the sixth: Orange or black?

Orange. Again, I am a little annoyed you’d have to ask. ALWAYS COLOR! Especially the warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows.

Question the seventh: Give me your best explanation as to why the sun is yellow (your answer is encouraged to not be scientifically sound).

The sun is yellow because God knew that we would all be looking at it every day to judge time, to seek light, to find warmth, and to produce food for us. He understood that yellow is one of the most pleasant colors he had created and wanted use to enjoy everything about the sun. He’s also a very good designer and knew that the yellow complimented the blue of the sky, the reddish-brown of the earth, and the green of the plants. It’s all about coordinating colors, you know.

OR! The sun is really made out of molten nacho cheese and that’ why it’s yellow. Because really hot nacho cheese is yellow, not orange. This whole “the moon is made out of cheese” thing is just plain ridiculous. Wallace and Grommet got it wrong. The moon would be a very dry, crumbly, dusty, yucky cheese that smelled bad. If it were made out of cheese. But it’s not. We ALL know it’s powdered sugar. Duh. So yeah. The sun is yellow because it’s made of nacho cheese. Is that non-“scientific” enough for you, Roommate?

Question the eighth: What is one place outside of the United States that you have never been that you would like to visit for three months?

Costa Rica. If I wasn’t allowed to be an American anymore (which would be a really interesting set of circumstances, since I’m such a law-abiding line-toer and everything), I would move to Costa Rica and build a bungalow in the jungle and drink wine and salsa dance and eat slightly spicy food on the back deck every night for the rest of my life.

Question the ninth: who decided the order of numbers?

I’m going go with either the Romans or the Martians. Either way they were friggin’ brilliant. What I have ALWAYS wanted to know is who put the letters in order? I mean, the order of the numbers has ACTUAL significance because of, well, you know, the COUNTING part of numbers. But the letters? Their order only matters when you put things in alphabetical order and even then, it’s only alphabetical because someone SAID SO! Who was that???

Question the tenth: was that person brilliant or just finding a way to ease his or her OCD?

I have no answers for this. I mean, yes, brilliant. Probably also OCD. But maybe it’s because of the combination of brilliance and mental disorder (can you call an compulsive need for order a mental disorder?) that makes this so hard to answer. Because if I were making up a way to count things that had to start from scratch and put them in order, it would never get done because I would not know where to start. So, yes? Hmmm…

And there’s the murmur of a wakeful toddler. I’d better go get him before he decides to climb the bookshelves or something. I mean, he’s never done it before, but he’s having an off week… No crashes yet, though. So I guess that’s a good sign.

Until next time, remember to spay and neuter your pets. No, wait, I think that’s someone else’s line… Anyway, have a nice day or something, okay?

UPDATE: Godson is still asleep. But I swear I heard him. Either I’m going crazy (likely), he woke up and fell back to sleep (highly irregular), or he murmurs in his sleep (unknown). But now I have time to fold that other load of laundry and maybe even empty the dishwasher. Look at me, being all domestic! 

UPDATED THE SECOND: Satan's Cat just climbed a high shelf and dumped an entire box of her toys all over the floor. A box of jingle bells and rattle balls and Mylar crunchie things. Which of course made a giant crashing noise loud enough to wake the dead, let alone a toddler. While I was silently running after her to grab her and tell her a very stern but quiet "bad kitty," I stomped on one of the jingle balls, busting it in a raucous fashion, injuring my foot, and almost swearing loudly while toppling into other furniture. So much for that laundry getting done (I mean it! I can totally see you mothers snickering with glee! Knock it off!)... 

Think of This More As a Bunch of Little Blog Posts

I'm have blogger-block. I think taking the long weekend off was not so much refreshing as it was detrimental to all of my newly formed bloggiding habits. So, to stretch my blogging muscles and try to get back into the groove, I give you a list.


Here are a few things that have been happening in the land of things that are not bagels:

• My office building is under construction. I've whined about this on twitter, I'm sure. There's a lot of banging, scraping, thumping, drilling, and stomping, not to mention noxious fumes that make my head swim and no air conditioner. Today, they had to cut the power and phones from 12:30 pm until "a few hours" later. Which meant HALF DAY! I knew this construction had to benefit me somehow.
• Speaking of work, I have now officially applied for another job. We will see what happens. Hopefully, I will be able to keep my current not-so-wonderful job until this other one (or something else entirely) pans out.
• I just realized that I have some problems with the links to my earliest posts, because they were under a different domain name. I will fix this, I promise. I would have done it by now, but that kind of thing is daunting to me. Also, I'm lazy.
• Tonight, I'm going to go play Shaving Cream Baseball with the hooligans. Have I told you all that I help out with the Youth Group at my church? I can't remember and I apparently can't be bothered to look. So: hooligans=church kids between the ages of 10 and 18. FYI. Every Wednesday night from 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm. So if I'm not on twitter, that may be where I am.
• So, Shaving Cream Baseball. You're probably wondering what that is. Well, I will tell you. 
1. Go outside. 
2. Take a wiffle ball. 
3. And take a can of shaving cream 
4. (I'm linking so you know that I mean exactly what I say). 
5. Fill the wiffle ball with the saving cream. 
6. Yes, put the nozzle in one of the holes and hold down the button until shaving cream squirts out of all the other openings. 
7. Now lob the wiffle ball at a young person who is holding a plastic bat. 
8. Duck. 
9. Get covered in flying shaving cream. 
10. Repeat. 
11. All other baseball rules and strategies apply.
• After we play baseball with the kids, we will have a water balloon fight. Then we will send them home to their parents slimy, wet, and smelling like an old man. Why, how does your Youth Group work?
• A childhood friend of mine got married on Monday (don't ask me why Monday or why July 4th, I have no idea). She is the last of my childhood group of friends to get married. Oh wait, no. There's still one unmarried girl in the group. Who is that? I can't remember... Wait, I've got it. It's me. 
• In completely unrelated news, I'm afraid I'm going to end up bitter and alone. Without a cat, even. Because cats like to flay my face open.
• Moving away from the unrelated news and back into the original subject, I am completely happy for my friend and her new husband. He also grew up with us (middle school on), but didn't tell her he was in love with her until three years ago. It was a sweet ceremony and I'm excited for both of them to start their life together (both are from pretty damaged homes with really awful divorces, so I'm glad they each found someone to make a family with).
• Some more unrelated news again: there are no boys left from my childhood that will show up one day to confess their unrequited love for me. Just sayin'.
• I caught up on my feed reader. Either I was away from it for a lot longer than I meant to be (possible) or you people were incredibly prolific over the holiday weekend. Which is strange, because I totally wasn't. 
• I spent Sunday with the Godson. He's amazing. He chased Satan's Cat all around the house and she only scratched him once. Don't look at me that way. When a two year old is repeatedly told to stop chasing the cat and to leave her alone when she goes under the bed, or she might scratch him, it's a good life lesson for him to get scratched when he crawls under the bed and pins her in a corner. While I am saying, "No, don't do that. You'll get an owie!" and trying to pull him away from her.
• Godson says some really cute things at this stage and I'm going to bore you with a few of them (because it's my blog, that's why!):
• In response to, "I love you!" He purses his lips and says, "Too! Too!"
• He calls the cat, alternately: Kika (kitty-cat) or Isameow (It's a meow).
• In the same way most children mispronounce the word "truck," Godson struggles with the word "fox." And it's funny. So sue me.
• "Moo-Cow" is the catch all name for quadrupeds--especially horses, cows, moose, and zebras.
• The same goes for "Choo-Choo Train" for trains, large cargo trucks, RVs, and 4x4s.
• He will come find you to tell you when he needs a new "viper" but if you ask him if he needs to be changed, he will always tell you, "No."
• Today is a gorgeous day. Sometimes in the summer, I stare outside at the blue sky, the fluffy clouds, and the waving green leaves and I wish for a away to absorb it all and sear it into my mind's eye, because I know it will be gone in a few short months. And I feel like my body and my eyes are not large enough to take it all in. And then I hope that I can remember to enjoy it enough now to last for the long winter months, so that maybe by next year, I will have figured out how to capture it for good. 
• Now that Sister's home, I'm back in my own room. And I'm back to blogging from my new purple couch. I'm not sure how it's possible to ache for an inanimate object, but I can't believe how much I missed this couch. And that's pretty silly, since it's been across the hall this whole time. But it's been covered in clean laundry I was too lazy to fold and put away.
• That is all. 
• For now.
• Maybe.