Wednesday, August 30, 2006

In The Dictionary Under "Nerd," You Will See This Man's Photo

Today we were to have furniture delivered for the basement. Two guys arrived this afternoon and tried to muscle it down the stairs, but after grunting for a while (I presume moving furniture was all they were doing), they came up and sheepishly admitted they couldn't get it down there. And they had punched a hole in the nice, new wall. So I called the Husband to let him know. He immediately left the office, drove here, and took measurements of the stairwell. Then he went back to work and, using his stairwell measurements and measurements of the furniture, made a 3-D simulation of the furniture going down the stairwell. According to his simulation, it will fit and the delivery guys are useless lumps.

According to me, I married one of the biggest nerds in the universe.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

731 Days

Two years ago yesterday I met my lovely G. I loved the way he gazed at me as I held him to my chest, naked and wet. I marvelled at his dark hair, his dimpled chin, the way he settled at the sound of my voice. What an amazing little boy.

Happy Birthday, G. I love you madly.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

I'm in a weird place right now. I feel like I keep opening my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. My thoughts are all scrambled around, and I fear that if I were to let them out I would be totally incoherent.

More than usual, I mean.

But I'm going to try to cobble together a post, as a sort of exercise of will. Also because N is at school and G is napping, so it's a good time.

We went to my parents' farm this weekend. It was a really nice visit, if you discount the total lack of sleep inflicted upon me by the little darlings. The kids got to run about on a giant lawn, more than double the size of ours, and then Grandpa took them golfing. They each got to drive the golf cart and eat junk food, and do more running about on even more grass. And swing clubs around at each other. Nobody suffered any concussions or even any bruises, so it was a smashing success in my books.

Of late I have been much easier to live with, as I have re-restarted the meds. On the lowest dose, I am approximately eighty-three bajillion times more sane, and people don't break out into blisters when in close proximity to me. Yippee! I am looking for some kind of therapeutic person to talk with also, since I'd like to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on with my brain. I don't think I have any trauma to work through, I think I'm just one of those garden-variety imbalanced sorts, but talking it out might be helpful. And if not, at least I can say I tried.

That's about all the coherence (such as it is) I can manage at the moment. I really have to scrub bathrooms today. The grime is causing me no end of guilt. I have filthy bathrooms! I am a terrible mother! Must go assuage guilt with Lysol.