Oh! And also, my previously mentioned tromp through the field to collect wildflower seeds, landed me 6 more chiggers! Rock on some more. Damn I hate chiggers. I'd never had one in my life until this year, and boy do they itch like a son of a. They should be illegal, I've decided.

Oh yeah...and just because I'm having the best week EVER...of course I managed to kill the caterpillar. And it's getting cold out, and there'll be no more till next summer. I suck.

Still obsessed with learing to winter sow seeds? check.
Still adjusting to permanently muddy and mischevious puppy? check.
Still spending too much time at work not actually working? check.
Other than that, the whole world is upside down right now. Suffice it to say we have the universe's worst au pair ever right now and it's all coming to blows. We want her out three days ago, she wants out three days ago, and the agency (under federal regulation and quite fussy about actually following the "rules") can't make any final decisions until some head honcho gets back in country on Tuesday. Can you say "living hell"? Can you say "world's most uncomfortable living arrangements"? Can you say "oh my God, thinking about the fact that my little one's are at home with her right now makes me want to alternatively throw up and sneak home to punch her in the throat"? I can't sleep. I've been eating like crap. The closest thing I've had to real food in a week was a hot dog and 1/2 a hot pretzel with cheese at my son's baseball game on Wednesday. I've got the stress headache that just won't quit, and my belly hurts. Joy. I'm having sort of a freak out about the whole situation...not only because I hate her with a molten hot fire of a million hells, but because she's still there and I have to swallow back my vomit every time I see her. Also because there's no way to tell how long it will take before we get a replacement, so what the hell do I do with my kids in the meantime? It's going to be scramble city around here...but you know, I'd rather be stressed out and struggling to find people to help me temporarily, and have to talk my boss into fronting me some vacation days from next year to stay with them, and potentially work all day Sat. and Sun. to make up the hours, then to spend one more night with her under my roof. And my poor husband...not only does he have to put up with the palpable tension at home, and my raving lunacy about the whole situation, but, bless his heart (mark this day in history...I'm about to say something nice about him) he's just as upset/worried/anxious as I am. Normally I'm the one totally over-reacting and acting like a rabid momma bear protecting her cubs, and he's the one trying to reason with me and talk me off the cliff...but this time, we are in total aggreement. Which is not only uncommon, to say the least, but sort of scarey. Like if we both think it's this bad, then it is. We're not supposed to "kick her out" and she's not supposed to move out until after the meeting (Sunday) and the final decision (Tuesday, I hope), but she told the go-between that she had made a friend here locally that she wanted to move in with until they found her a replacement host family (actually, she said she was going to move in because they were going to pay her to help with their elderly grandmother, to which the go-between said, um, no, you're here under contract with the government to be an au-pair, and if you leave here you either go to another family or you go home) and we're going to tell her tonight that she should go ahead and move out now, and just come back for the meeting. Hell, if they call me on it, I'll just say we told her she could go stay there for the weekend, and she misunderstood. She's been playing the damn "Sorry, I no understand" card since she got here and getting away with way too much...it's about damn time we got some use out of it. Hopefully, she'll pack her shit, and I'll be done with her. If she does, I'm throwing a huge party tomorrow and you're all invited. Bring your friends, I'll even pop for the beer.

Ohhh...more flowers! www.wintersown.org will send you 6 free packs of seeds for a SASE!

So, here at work, we needed to get some roofing materials onto the roof...long story short, the city here requires that you put some sort of fencing around the roof air conditioners...they claim it's to make the building more attractive from the highway, but frankly, some of these places have just a chain link fence around them, so it's not like it has to be pretty, and it's not like you're fooling anyone, we still know it's an air conditioner, and who the hell, by the way, has ever driven by a building and said "gee that's a nice place...too bad those air conditioners are on the roof" but whatever. Anyway, so we had a wood fence around both of ours, and when we had storms earlier this summer they blew over and damaged the roof and now we need new ones. We decided to go with a white vinyl trellis mounted on a frame...looks nicer, wind can go through it, instead of blowing it all to hell, and it's a ton lighter then the wood. All good plans. The catch is, everyone here with the exception of me, is terrified of heights. So this morning, I had to stand on a pallet, on the forklift forks, balancing the damn trellis pieces while I got lifted 3 stories in the air. Then I had to maneuver the trellis onto the low roof (over the canopy of the door, sort of) without falling off. Oh, and the hook on the safety harness wouldn't "catch", so I was clutching the forklift with one hand and trying to move the trellis with the other. and it's windy. and the forklift sways. Oy. I'm pretty sure both my hands are bruised...they hurt. One from the death grip on the forklift, and the other from the damn trellis that kept catching on the roof flashing and I had to fight with. Now I have to do it again with all the wood for the frames, and then I have to step over the edging, to stand on the low roof and hand all the stuff up to the top roof. Mind you, my heart hasn't returned to it's standard rate yet and that was 10 minutes ago. and now my hands are all shaky with the adrenaline coursing through me. I'm making them go get me a new safety clip before I go up again though...since I know the wood will take two hands.

In other news...we just can't find any chrysalis from the monarch caterpillars...it's been bumming us out. So last night we emptied out the HUGE Costco pretzel container we've had sitting on our dryer to collect loose change, and turned it into a butterfly habitat. We hope. We put in perilite and potting soil, cut a bunch of milkweed, treated it with rooting hormone and arranged it in there, then we took the only caterpillar we could find last night and moved him into his new home. It looks like it will work pretty good, as long as I can figure out where to put the container where
#1. it will get sun
#2. the little one's won't pop the very sophisticated wax-paper and rubber-band top off
#3. the puppies won't knock over and destroy.

We've already talked to the kids about it (which, right, the kids would NEVER do something I told them not to...ha), so I'm mostly worried about #3. And remembering to keep the potting soil moist, and hoping the milkweed roots enough not to rot. Course if it doesn't, I can just cut off some more and replace...but I'd prefer not to. Being as it's just one more thing I'd have to remember to do, and lately, my remembering-to-do-things part of the brain has been overheating pretty easily.

After all the drama this year with the planting of the flowers and the re-planting of the ones I planted in the wrong place, and the subsequent attack on the flowers by the little innocent puppy and her best friend and previous plant attacking boxer, and the wiring of the yard to prevent another plant homicide emergency, you'd think I'd have just about had my fill of the whole flower thing. But you'd be wrong. I have developed an acute case of winter-sowing-obsession that has apparently taken over complete control of my frontal lobe and made it impossible to get anything else done. It seems, as of late, if I'm not reading about which seeds to try, I'm in the yard searching for seed pods, or at the store snatching seed pods off their end-of-the-year-almost-dead plants, or tromping through the field behind work trying to find seeds on wildflowers. I need professional help. And, *oh!* planning! what am I going to put them in? should I put them in this? or this? and where? over here? my husband thinks I'm crazy, and this time, he might be right.

Oh, and I got a 95 on my first micro test...4 more to go!

Nothing like a pair of jeans right from the dryer to knock you off your feeling skinny high horse. Note to self: Lay off the chocolate, and an extra 30 on the treadmill wouldn't hurt.

In other news, my first big microbiology test is tomorrow night. I'm sort of freaking out a little. I've gone through all of my notes and made study cards, and hope to read the chapters again tonight...so far, without taking notes from the book, I've got about 400 study cards. I think my brain is on fire.

Is it bad that I made my husband get out of bed last night at 11:24 to go search and destroy the LOUDEST CRICKET IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD that was chirping from somewhere behind the table in the living room? Seriously. He was THAT loud. It was actually pretty easy to convince him...I simply told him that neither of us would be able to sleep, since if I couldn't sleep I'd make sure he couldn't either. See? Easy.

It probably didn't help that I also made him go outside 20 minutes earlier to see how pretty the moon looked. I tried to take a picture, but the glare from the streetlights messed it all up. So, no picture for you. But, just so you don't feel bad, here's a pic of the little monarch caterpillar one week after the first picture...they grow up so fast *sniff* *sniff*




Seriously...plant some tropical milkweed somewhere in your yard. I'm having so much fun with this damn thing...Most of the big ones have fallen prey to the birds, I'm afraid, but we still have one big, two mediums, and last night I found probably 6 little babies...no bigger than maggots, hidden between the little blooms. And then, and THEN, we found a ton of eggs that must be ready to hatch, because they were bopping all over the leaf...imagine a leaf with 30 mexican jumping beans (mini beans, of course...the eggs are tiny) all attached. And, the kids think it's the coolest thing ever, thus, by the relative property, I must be the coolest mom ever. It's simple math, folks.

Labor day labor...Project: Girls' room.

The room, including 3 coats of paint on the bed, and a pink glitter glaze on the bed and dresser faces, took me three days to do. I scraped the popcorn crap off the ceiling...I hate that crap. Painted, ceiling and walls, primed and painted the bed (was red wood and black wrought iron), re-did the dresser handles, etc, etc, etc.

The girls love it, and yes, that's little man in the top bunk, but it's not his room...he just loves to be in pictures.

Oh, and I did go back and get a hot pink boa to drape over the white framed picture...just to tie it in with the windows...looks good, I think.

In other news...the au pair we have from Thailand is going on her first vacation. Normally, the au pairs we have had go to visit family they have in America, or they hook up with a couple of other au pairs and go see something together. Not this one. This one met a boy online, when she was still in Thailand, that she chats with all the time. And, yes, she's going out to stay with him for a week. Never met him, but they're "just friends" even though he's offered to pay for her plane ticket and let her stay at his place so she doesn't have to pay for a hotel. Don't these people have Dateline in Thailand? She cannot seem to grasp what a bad, bad, bad idea this is. I've tried talking her out of it, but what can I do? She's 24. She's allowed to spend her vacation how ever she wants. But damn. And she's told me, in the past, that she's a virgin and doesn't "do things" with boys because it would be disrespectful to her parents and she cannot do those things until married. Which is noble, sure, but I find it hard to believe that this guy is not going to expect "something" when he's paying for a girl to fly out to New Jersey and stay with him for a week. Call me a cynic if you must, but I just don't believe there's that many "nice young men" out there anymore that meet people online, flirt with them for a year, invite them down and foot the bill, and think they're just going to sit around and talk and maybe see all the great and beautiful sites in new jersey. So, there's a betting pool going on as to whether she'll come back at all. For all I know, she'll marry the guy to get her citizinship and never be heard from again. If not something worse. Oh, and when I walked past the computer the other day, they were chatting with the webcam on, and he was sitting there with his shirt off. That's a "look at me" if I've ever seen one, and I'm sure he thought he was impressing her/exciting her...not that he seemed to be much to look at. This should be interesting. It blows my mind. I mean, America is not the only place where bad things happen...bad things happen in Thailand too, right? I mean, she's got to realize that this is a potentially dangerous situation, doesn't she?

I always forget just how fast a puppy will grow...Sydney's looking long and lanky lately and it's such a change from the little ball of puff we brought home not too long ago. She's still insane though, so it's nice to know some things never change. She has this really adorable habit (only, not really adorable at all) of standing in her water dish and "digging" and "pouncing" all the water out onto the floor. Oy. Makes for a very slippery surface for the two kids that are always moving too fast to pay attention to such insignificant details as the current floor-slipperyness-quotient. There's a lot of slipping and sliding around the house lately, and much crashing ensues. Not to mention the fact that her paws are always dirty, ensuring that any water that may remain in the bowl once the digging and pouncing has lost its appeal is muddy and gross and even on the rare occasions that she doesn't accidentally step on the side of the bowl and dump the remains onto the floor (which is rare), results in little muddy footprints that are actually quite a handy little map, should one care to track the path of destruction that she has a habit to cause. Squeeky toy fluff here, crumbs from a stolen hot dog there, screaming child and victim of said crime against hot dog here, soggy smelly sock stolen from the laundry room there...it's sort of like my own little daily treasure hunt. It's fun, fun, fun. My DH is convinced she's cross-eyed, but I'm pretty sure it's just a little trick your eyes play on you when you're looking at a dog w/two different colored eyes. Though if she keeps smashing into furniture and door jambs at high speed, I may rethink my stance. DD #1 and I have finally got around to getting her into a harness and we took her and the boxer for a walk on Wed. and Thurs. morning before school. She seems to enjoy it...the boxer, while she loves to go for a walk, seems less than amused at having to stop every 5 steps to let us untangle the puppy. I do believe her herding instinct is starting to rear its head, which results in the said entanglement...she's forever circling around and going over and under the boxer...sort of funny to watch, but it does make the leash handling more difficult.

Isn't that sweet? Like mother, like daughter...she may have gotten her daddy's eyes, but by damn, she got her mother's hair...poor little thing.

And, yes, that IS the exact same hairstyle I'm sporting today...why do you ask?

Earlier this spring, when I was spending all of my time and all of my money on flowers and peat moss, I ran across a "save the butterflies!" foundation. Now, here's a little trivia for you, apparently the Monarch butterfly's caterpillar can only eat milkweed. Thus, with all the new development and the destroying of the natural habitats and such, this particular foundation makes its money by threatening kind-hearted saps like me, who obviously cannot be trusted with a checkbook, that if we don't act now, soon the poor little Monarch will perish. So, being who I am, I sent them a small donation in exchange for a "I love butterflies!" sticker that I gave to my daughter, and three of the tiniest little tropical milkweed plants you've ever seen. Seriously. I took one look at them and said to my husband, "well, these should be dead by June". But, joy of joys, apparently they are less "tropical milk" and more "weed", because regardless of my inability to properly read planting instructions indicating rate of growth and size, and also my penchance for digging up and re-planting things 6 or 7 times, they have flourished! Behold!


And here is a terribly fuzzy shot of the little guys happily munching on the leaves as we speak...


And for good measure, my little $5 hibiscus joyfully blooming in the wrong direction (hint: face the house next time little flower, or I will immediately tear you from your home and replant you facing the other direction at which time you will decide to bloom on the backside again. bitch.)

This is the really not very good picture of the huge snapping turtle that tried to eat my foot. He was much more impressive and scarey in person...just couldn't get a good shot without him attaching himself to me in a very painful and permenantly damaging way.

In other news, The puppy has been so very helpful in the garden. And by helpful, I mean of course, ripping out plants, oh so expensive plants, by the roots and flinging dirt all about. It's spectacular, really. Unless you consider the time and the money and the sweat that's gone into the garden this year, and also the money, and then it's not really all that spectacular after all. So back I go to try and propogate more hibiscus, since that seems to be the only thing I've had any luck propogating, and thinking about what to buy (again) to fill the new, empty spaces. On the plus side, those little paws do a fantastic job of tilling the soil. On the down side, she doesn't till in a neat fashion, and I'll be scooping handfuls of dirt off the grass for weeks. Unless it rains before I get to it. And somehow I've lost my very favorite pair of pruners, so I couldn't even begin the propogating last night and now have to remember to do it tonight after I get out of my microbiology class. In the dark. Sweet. So I had to go out last night and buy another collar for the underground fence to keep her out of the gardens and me out of the loony bin. It only took 3 shocks and now she knows that when the beep is beeping, she'd better turn around. Pretty smart little thing. Now, as long as I remember to put the collar on every morning, most of the garden will be safe. There is one little area that isn't covered, so I may have to dig up part of the wire and run it at a different angle...fun weekend job!! I also made this really nasty smelling potion that I got out of a "backyard problem solver" book that's supposed to keep dogs from digging. All natural stuff, but boy does it ever smell bad...I can't imagine she'll want to be sticking her nose into it. Seems like a lot of work, I know, but she was quickly teaching the boxer that "hey! digging is fun!" and that is one lesson I'd prefer she didn't know, thank you very much. Oh, and I took apart the toilet and fixed it all by myself and it doesn't leak. Talk about a productive night.

ha ha HA!

Kristie, you ROCK!

Right. So every day I've been logging in and trying to post a picture of the new puppy, and blogger just happens to hate me, so, yeah, not going so well. And by every day, I mean, when I remember and then I try 48 times because I'm pissed that that stupid little "image uploading" graphic is only partially loaded on my screen and then I have to close it out and try again and I just keep thinking "okay, one more try" and then that turns into another, which turns into another, which turns into 48, and considerably less work done then was intended at the start of the day. So, red-merle aussie with a "bonus" tail and mismatched eyes. Close your eyes and picture her...no, much cuter than that...okay, better.

I also intended on posting a picture I took of the GIANT SNAPPING TURTLE that was in the middle of the road on my way to work yesterday, but then he became the GIANT SNAPPING TURTLE that had made it into the grass by the time I turned my ride around and remembered how to turn the camera on and got out of the car and found him, and got some really crappy pictures of him in the tall grass, in which one shot I tried to put my foot next to him, for size comparisson and all, and managed to take the picture without any part of my foot showing up in the screen at all, plus only 1/2 his tail and I'm pretty sure none of his head. and then a couple more pictures of various turtle parts that were, frankly, much more impressive in person, when you could SEE my foot next to him for the size comparisson, and then I tried to get him to poke his ugly mug out of his shell by gently kicking him in the ass, at which time he turned into the GIANT SNAPPING TURTLE THAT HISSES AND TRIES TO EAT MY FOOT. It was great fun. I'd show you the pictures, but, you know.

And then today, on the way to work, there were two pretty does in the middle of the street, and I was going to take another picture to not share with you, but then I remembered that I can't share pictures with you, and also, I forgot my camera. Which, interestingly enough, is the exact reason you didn't get to see a picture of the sunflower field when they burst into bloom a few weeks ago.

Too late. Blogger won't let me post a picture, but trust me when I tell you she's the cutest puppy ever.

In other news, I've received my Precision Nutrition kit. I like his approach. I'm not so sure how I feel about the fact that he's trounced all possible excuses I might come up with as to why I don't have time to eat healthy. Who am I without the ability to rationalize my eating blunders? Damn him.

quickly...someone tell me all the good reasons that I do not need another dog

Race for the cure was INSANE! So many people, which is great for the cure, but hard to run in! My hips hurt all day on Saturday, from all the weaving and jumping over stroller wheels! I thought for sure I'd be sore on Sunday (hips and knees) but I felt great...this body must be getting used to running after all! St.Louis bread company was there with cranberry bagels shaped like a ribbon...delish! The girls I ended up going with were really fun, even though they all run a lot faster than me, so I felt like I was either going to throw up or my heart was going to explode the whole time. We talked last night at volleyball and decided to do the local Fourth of July 5K...now I just have to work on getting a lot faster before then! I'm having second thoughts about doing the marathon in Oct...truth be told, I've been having 2nd thoughts for months now. It just feels "lonely" to me, going by myself and all...at first my dh was going to go to watch and we were going to make a long weekend w/out the kids, but now that he's changed jobs, he won't be able to get the time off, so it'd just be me. And though I'm sure I could do it, now it doesn't seem like any fun to me, and it's been difficult to motivate myself to go do those long lonely weekend runs. Especially after my dog decided she doesn't go any farther than 6 miles! So, I don't know. I really feel like it'd be more fun to just stay around town and keep doing little races with my new friends, or even by myself, if they're local. That seems like FUN, and not so much WORK, you know? I don't know what to do, and I'm getting all stressed, and my stomach is in knots...I'm afraid to make a decision either way. Ugh.
dh is off early tonight, and there's no kids sports on the schedule, which means I may be able to go back to kickboxing tonight! It'd be my first time back since I started having all the shoulder trouble in Feb. Hopefully I'll get to go and the arm will hold up just fine.

I hate junebugs. No really, I hate them.

Normally I'm a live and let live kind of gal...except mosquitos. I hate them too. And flies, but only when they're in my house. Oh, and also ants. Okay, maybe I'm not such a live and let live, but that's not my point. My point is, I hate junebugs. They give me the heebie-jeebies like you wouldn't believe. I'm not sure if it's the noise they make bouncing off my windows, or if it's the fact that they divebomb me at 45 mph, or if it's just because they look like they just climbed out of some pre-historic swamp and want to bite me. They're icky. I tell you this only because I was attacked last night by a swarm of junebugs. Do junebugs swarm? I'm pretty sure junebugs swarm. Anyway, we got a new storm door, and as it turns out it's apparently big and scary when you're a dog. So I've been trying for two days to convince my dog that the door is, in fact, a door, and not some horrid monster attached to the house, waiting to pounce and suck her heart out. So, yeah, that's going really great, and I spent 30 minutes holding the door open last night speaking in my stupid dog voice, when the junebugs attacked. The first one landed in my hair...which, frankly, is enough to send me into seizures, and then all his brothers joined in. One hit my neck, one on my upper back, one on my left cheek. So, I did what any rational person would do, ran across the back yard screaming and flailing my arms. Then I picked up the dog (I give up, really I do...she won't use the door on her own) and went inside. About 20 minutes later, I was laying on the bed flipping through the channels when I felt something crawling inside my shirt. Yep, you guessed it. JUNEBUG! I swear I almost had to go to the hospital.

In my research this morning I discovered that "When toasted in hot ashes, the internal body parts and juices of the bug congeal into a nugget of pure golden nutrition. After peeling off shriveled legs, wings, and wing case, the remaining orb of nourishment can be eaten one at a time or by the handful.
Toasted June bugs have a surprisingly sweet delightful taste. The flavor closely resembles thick raw molasses or crudely made ribbon cane syrup. It is difficult to eat just one.
Crushed into fine powder, bug-flour added to hot water forms a rich nourishing drink perfectly suited to victims suffering from anemia, dehydration, and other maladies. If mixed with warm milk, it has a malted milk taste.
However, toasted June bugs should be consumed in measured proportions because of the heavy concentration of protein and fat. If eaten in large amounts, the rich oily meal can result in stomach ache or mild diarrhea." from this really disturbing website. I find it interesting that they claim that it's difficult to eat just one. Mmmmm...Junebug flavored Lay's Potato Chips....

The thing is, looks can be deceiving. I LOOK like I’m in shape. I’ve got nice muscles, an okay body fat, and I’ve used up more of my available brain space on exercise facts, nutritional nuggets of info, and transformation techniques then, frankly, I care to admit. But here’s the thing…my cardiovascular level of endurance is totally in the toilet. It’s a fact about me that I try desperately to hide. I even lie about it, sometimes.

I claim I “used to” run miles at a time. LIE.

I claim I love to run. LIE.

Truth be known, I’m the slowest, most irritable “runner” you’ll ever come across. So it makes perfect sense, then, that I’ve registered for a marathon. Right? Right. See, I was feeling kind of blue the other week, getting close to my birthday, feeling kind of goal-less and plan-less, bummed about my shoulder keeping me from working out, ashamed that I was supposed to be starting a running program months ago w/my friend far far away (we decided to do the same “starter” program on the same days and check in with each other as to our progress), and while she’s on week 6, I’ve not really yet started. Blue. Out of sorts. Crabby. And I’ve secretly always wanted to be good at running. You know, not bad enough to actually work at it, but it’s always kind of been there hanging around in my brain, that I’d like to one day be good.

So, screw the 5K…why give myself a reasonable goal when I can completely obsess and torture myself over a looming deadline and 26.2 miles? That just wouldn’t be me. Unfortunately.

So, it’s kind of strange, this new deadline of mine. I’ve never really (in my adult life) had a “performance” goal. I mean, I’ve had improvement goals (increase my bench press), transformation goals (drop some body fat) but I’ve never had a “by this time I have to run this far” type of goal. And it’s kind of freaking me out. It’s kind of a long time for me to try and patiently, intelligently, improve my performance, week by week, mile by mile. I’m an instant gratification kind of gal. I want it done yesterday. It’s hard for me to wrap my little pea-brain around the concept of today I can run to the mailbox and in just this many baby steps I will be running farther then I commute to work each day. So, the point is, today was day one of my new training program, which at this point consists of running as far as I can without wanting to throw myself into oncoming traffic. Which is not that far, as it turns out. And I’m not yet brave enough to tell anyone that I’m “training” for fear that they might want to run with me one day, and, as anyone who has seen me run can attest, I’m less of a runner than I am an old-man-shuffler. So, do me a favor and don’t watch me run, and if you see me, don’t make eye-contact, and please don’t mention it again, because I’m feeling kind of intimidated and insecure and I don’t need you telling me I should lengthen my stride or turn my feet over faster or stop running on the outside of my foot, because I will curl up into a ball and die if I know that you saw me struggling to catch my breath and trying not to trip over the dog leash and leaving one of my lungs in the gutter on the side of the road.

Aside from the BIG AND LOOMING deadline, I’ve made two other goals. After, of course I figure out #1 how to run without looking like a complete jackass, and #2 I figure out how to swallow my feelings of intimidation. One is to, after being able to completely run 6 miles without dying, is to do a HHH run, and the other is to be in good enough shape to attend the speed clinics my local shoe store puts on over the summer, both without totally embarrassing myself.