Halloween is QUACKTACULOUS!

Today we experienced The Sugar High.

The first was mine, at 8:45am. PMS hit me like a tsunami and I found myself rifling through a plastic jack-o-lantern, cramming Tootsie Rolls into my mouth, trying to get to the cocoa that was listed as the seventh ingredient, right after 6 different forms of sugar.

What?? Seventh ingredient just wasn't cutting it. I felt like a junkie desperately trying to get to the heroin essence in some overly-cut street smack. And of course, my grubby coworkers ate all my Reese's peanut butter cups the day before. Bastards.

Luckily, another division was holding a bake sale to benefit diabetes research.

That's right, I said a bake sale to benefit diabetes research.

Being a team player, I truly did my best to get diabetes. Ten minutes later I sat in a corner of the lobby with a spoon, a cotton ball, and a chocolate cookie.

But enough about me.

This morning, I tried to get the Kid into her Halloween costume so I could take some beautiful photos, and spend the rest of my day at work, lackadaisically playing with Clip Art and jpegs. The Kid decided she would prefer to throw herself on the ground and have a hissy fit until it was time to go.

This afternoon, I spent the ride from daycare to my parents' trying to convince her that if she agreed to put on the costume and yell "TRICK OR TREAT!", people would give her candy. Oooh, candy. She agreed, but further negotiated that she would receive afore-mentioned candy for each exremity placed in said costume. By the time we hit the elevator, she was in a duck suit, running in circles and yelling "CANDY! CANDY!".

Hoo, boy.

My dad also thought it would be fun to see how much candy she could fit in her mouth. "Lots" is the answer. My daughter had candy for dinner, and two pieces of broccoli.

I spent the bulk of my day at work moaning about how my stomach hurt from eating too much candy, talking to TGLETSITSAFM about my raging PMS, and mouthing the words "Olive juice" at him. That never gets old.

"I said 'OLIVE JUICE', dildo, not 'I LOVE YOU'! HA HA!"

The boss said something today about "some people being moved around for efficiency reasons". I hugged TGLETSITCAFM goodbye and started to think of new possible acronyms for him. The Guy Lucky Enough to Sit in the Cubicle Across from Me and I are going to be the first people that Hitler splits up. I'm going to wind up either sitting next to the Office Manager, or the guy who creates all the signs for the airport who isn't a native English speaker. Or both. And by 'native', I mean 'proficient'. And by 'Office Manager'... well, never mind.

Olive juice.

Too introspective for a Monday.

I seem to be at a locational crossroads again, at least in my mind.
I find myself missing New York, but I realize my small moments throughout the day where I am most content is where absolutely nothing is going on. The Kid is sleeping, the sandalwood is burning, the window is open, the cats are stretching, the dishes are clean, lunch is made, tomorrow's clothes have been set aside, and I can sit back and enjoy it all.

I miss the wide expanse of the Egyptian Art section of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I miss live music, and falafel, and good cocktails. I miss racing cab drivers down Second Avenue and edging them out of the first spot behind the traffic light, foot hovering lightly over the brake and ready to tear off at a green light.

Yet, with all the small tasks of the day complete, I am content where I am. I like the new sheets I bought myself. I like the glow of the TV on the living room walls. I love the Kid's Halloween costume. I like the neighborhood. (People smile here, and say "good morning".)

I like Sunday dinners with mom and dad, which is either a tough marketing campaign, or dad's way of getting me to get my time in with them while I can. And that's painful. Right now, it's easy to feel comfortable, like nothing will happen to them for a long time, but I'm sure at some point, I'll be looking back and feeling like it flew by in an instant. I feel like I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop for years.

Pam was right. This is lonely. It's peaceful, and it's lonely. Mostly peaceful.

Sometimes what you're looking for is right down the block...

I had been driving all over south Florida looking for trees.

Today the Kid was especially nutty, so I decided to try a not-so-promising-looking park down the block, that was supposed to have nature trails.... it was great!

I realized that my child does not know how to walk in dirt, and has no idea what tree bark is. Ouch.

We walked through this park for about an hour, in an effort to tire her out for a good nap. I think it worked. We saw butterflies, and egrets, and when I looked up, all I saw was tree tops and blue sky, and no buildings. She had a bit of a meltdown towards the end, but I just carried her out to the car and put her down for a nap.

It made me really, really wish I lived in the middle of nowhere. I felt completely at peace.

Hooray, nature.

When "Good Enough" is good enough

Tonight I handed in half an assignment. I had every intention of doing it early, but life got in the way.

Tonight I worked feverishly to complete the darn thing, and didn't get it all done. I'll get partial credit. The Kid is still sick, and woke up crying "Mommy!" and coughing. When she calls, I always want to be there. So I hit "send" and sat in the rocking chair, kissing her forehead, until she was content enough to go back to sleep.

I might still be working on this degree when I'm 85. I've decided that that's ok. It wasn't the original plan, but that's ok.

I still have a pile of boxes in the living room. I went through a bunch last night, and though I made great progress, but when I opened the front door this evening, it looked a lot worse than I remembered. I may just drag the last remaining boxes out onto the grass and have a fire. And that's ok, too!

I got the cutest card from Pam today. And a phone call from Oana, who was just checking to see if I was still alive during her weekly 7 minutes of alone time. Thanks, you guys. I'm so grateful for the amazing friends I have! You've gotten me through the worst of it all, and I absolutely love you.

Resting against my front door this afternoon was a box from Amazon.com, containing the new shower head I ordered. There was no water pressure in my new shower, and I spent $30 on this thing, hoping for a miracle. And I got a miracle! It's from Oxygenics, and it really worked! Normally I'm not into brand pushing, but when the coffee and Red Bull wear off, a boiling hot shower is my last hope. The water in the new apartment has been a dribble, but the new showerhead almost put a scalding hot hole through my back. Just the way I like it!

No day is perfect. I feel like I need to concentrate on the good stuff.

Thank you, universe for:

• a new showerhead
• the Kid
• the parents that get up at the crack of dawn to take care of the Sick Kid
• the roof over my head
• sleeping cats on my bed
• letting me get at least half an assignment done
• the friends that keep me going
• a dependable car
• the most amazing, perfectly cooled breeze off of the beach today
• long walks and trees to look at along the way
• a paycheck
• lunch in the middle of the day with TGLETSITCAFM and Meisha, so I can crack up for an hour over T's dating tips and people walking around with BlueTooth headsets as big as my cordless phone
• & always a new day ahead

Super corny, no?

NO!

HOME

Tonight, the Kid and I went for our first walk in the neighborhood.

I was thinking about waiting until I could get to the Pepper Spray Store, but my thighs weren't. Today was the first day since March that the outdoor temperature actually dipped below Unbearable, so I sort of had to go. It was about 60 degrees when I woke up this morning!

It was so amazing to put jackets on and head outside for a long walk that didn't end in sunburn or sweat.

Somehow, though, the thought that I was excited about a cool 60 degrees (yet still running into the office this morning to get out of the "cold") REALLY makes me think I've been in south Florida for far too long. The Kid was thoroughly confused this morning. She walked outside, looked at me, and said, "COLD!". Are either of us ready for a trip to Scandinavia? Maybe in the summer.... Baby steps.

This neighborhood is growing on me. There are several hidden canals and back streets, and the neighborhood, although slightly crusty, has an organic feel to it that I really like. The last neighborhood we lived in was safe and manicured, and really, really dull. There's stuff to look at around the new place, and the walks are more interesting.

Well, it's only 8pm, so I'm off to work on Project Unpack, where I hopefully unpack a few more boxes, and throw out most of the contents. It works out pretty well, since there's very little storage space in the new apartment.

I can't wait until the place is clean and complete!

Musically Interludinal

Today I wrote a song.

It was for TGLETSITCAFM, whose full name only rhymes with "Siberian Husky" and "Elephant Tusky".

It's sung to the tune of "David Duchovny, Why Don't You Love Me" by Bree Sharp.

Except it's only three lines long.

HIM: I can't wait for the album to come out.

Sick Baby, Take 12.

My most recent challenge has been dealing with the Kid's sick days.

This morning, I had to run downtown to take a test to keep my recruitment status active for new positions in the County, and had advised my boss ahead of time that I would be late. I arrived at work about an hour later than usual, checked my email, started to go through my Inbox, and 2 seconds later, the Kid's daycare called to say that her snot was green and I needed to pick her up because she was contagious.

Of course it's contagious. She picked it up herself from daycare.

All weekend, I kept her away from my parents, as they are 107 years old, and catch the Kid's illnesses quickly. And then I have to wake them up on Monday morning to tell them I need to drop her off, because she's being sent home and I can't miss another day of work.

Daughter of the Year. I can practically hear the award being printed.

In the daycare parking lot, I met another single mom, Nancy, picking up her sick son, and who looked just as frustrated as I felt. However, Nancy had an hourly job, not salaried, so her day off was a day without pay, with no one else to take her kid.

Last week, the boss casually mentioned that the Kid's been sick a lot lately.

Perhaps I should call him during another sleepless night so he can come over, and we can do each other's hair, and chat about Grey's Anatomy, and get through the night together, since he's obviously concerned.

I looked for other resources online. What are single parents supposed to do with sick kids, when you're out of sick days, and there's no one else to help? The Mayo Clinic had some info, and there's a hospital in Akron, OH, that offers a sick child care center.

The U.S. Office of Personnel Management posted this on their site: "All children get sick from time to time. Most child care centers have policies about sick children and very few allow children with contagious diseases to attend. Some day care centers set aside space to care for mildly ill children. These centers usually have a nurse on staff or on call. The need for such sick child day care centers has produced many centers opened around the country. To find out if there is a center in your area, contact the National Association of Sick Child Day Care Centers, (205) 324-8447. "

I also read a report from '98 that discussed programs implemented by the City of Seattle, WA and the City of Mesa, AZ, which helped to subsidize sick child care so that parents could remain at work.

I think I'll have a fruitless conversation with HR tomorrow regarding my ideas.

Hooray, Monday.

Hey Lady, it's Monday!

Well, tomorrow's another Monday.

I'm not in the mood.

We've had a great weekend at home, just the Kid and I, and I could use another few days.

The little things she says just make me laugh. I asked her for her cup today to give her some juice, and she promptly handed it to me. Two seconds later, she said, "Thank you, you're welcome", to fill in the space where that exchange did not happen. She always says please. I sneezed three times in a row, and she said "Bless you! Bless you! Bless you!". Pretty good for someone who just turned two. She skinned her knee on Saturday while she was out with her dad, and when he didn't kiss her boo-boo, she lifted her leg up to her head and kissed it herself and said "All better".

Last week we had to pick up Auntie Dej on the way to work, because her car never works (even though her father-in-law's a mechanic). I was screeching around a corner as is expected at 7:30am, and the Kid yelled "HOLD ON!". Dej thought that was hysterical. I thought it was teamwork.

Just a little pat on the back to myself - the Kid pooped on the potty today. I did not post photos.

Thank you. You're welcome.

Watching the grass grow

Tonight I forced myself to do nothing.

I shut off the phone and let my eyes glaze over in front of Dog and Leland.

I've been hearing a lot lately about multi-tasking and our busy lives, and how you may be getting things done, but not actually retaining the information. Which would explain why a lot of things that I was carrying a second ago suddenly "dissappear". I was thinking back to a few beautiful summers in Denmark (where people actually use their vacation time, sometimes in consectutive WEEKS!). In the summer, I would lay in a hammock and watch the grass grow and listen to the birds. There are days like that I can remember what I ate, or what I was wearing... but if I try to remember what, if anything, I had on yesterday, I'm at a total loss. Even as a kid, my most vivid memories are from the summertime, where I had nothing better to do than watch a ladybug crawl up a blade of grass.

My Pam knows the deal. Right, Pam? Pam, I'm moving in. I'm going to be your Kato Kaelin.

Maybe it won't be today, or even by the summer, but I will work towards simplification. I can't keep up this pace. Yesterday I felt nuts, and drank more water than an e-tripping raver just trying to get all the Red Bull and coffee out of my system. I'm worried that I'm going to open my eyes and the Kid will be in 11th grade and shoving a towel under her bedroom door so I don't smell her drugs or hear her crawl out the window to get on the back of a motorcycle that her boyfriend just stole. I want to sit and kiss her cheeks while she still lets me and sit with her in the grass and listen to birds.

Well, I can almost get 8 full hours of sleep in. Here goes nothin'!

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....

Who am I kidding.

Huge exam.

18 chapters.

It's 9pm. Three hundred pages....

Someone please pass me my crackpipe.

Thank you. :)

I can almost taste Thanksgiving

Big exam tomorrow at 9am.

Of course, I just checked my English syllabus, and I have an essay due in about 2 1/2 hours. So now I have to write an essay, and learn the past 4 weeks' worth of math class.

Easy, peasy.

I have chained myself to the computer and am enjoying large amounts of sugar-free Red Bull.

Last night I unpacked about 14 boxes. Rested my little head on the pillow at 1:01am. At 1:11am, the Kid awoke crying, with a fever. She crawled into bed with me and proceeded to whap me in the eye with a sticky little hand for the next five hours.

There was a drunk woman wandering around the supermarket tonight. She was weaving all over the produce section, and kept returning to the deli counter, fixated on large bowls of olives, her belly whimsically hanging out of the top of her bike shorts. I found myself very envious of her freedom.

I wonder if I can make it to the next major holiday, or if I'll be back at the supermarket by the weekend in my bathrobe, drinking gin out of a sippy cup and casually squeezing the bakery bread.

Place your bets.

GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

@#!$% laptop.

@#!$% 11pm deadline for online assignments.

@#!$% computer applications class.

@#!$% advisor who told me I could handle 15 credits, a full-time job, and a two year old.

I'm off to kick the couch and break a toe.

Charmy? Smarmy.

Florida is losing its charm. Although I say “losing”, it’s never really been there. So let me start over.

What am I doing here?

When 9/11 turned my life on its ear, the things that I thought were important no longer were. I packed up a truck and drove my stuff down to south Florida.

I thought I’d get a place by the beach, with a hammock and a palm tree, and sell my soul for some sunshine. Perhaps I’d be a different person. I’d have a quiet job, an easy commute, and I’d spend time with my parents while I still could. I’d have a tan.

The reality was that the construction industry in south Florida was booming. People moving down from the North could afford a new place with a pool, and a gym, and landscaping. I rented a manicured box that looked really nice on the website, but had paper-thin walls and cheap fixtures. Rents were going up from all the new transplants that could afford to pay more, but salaries were a joke. I now had a car, insurance, and fuel to deal with, instead of a Metrocard. HR departments would not be the first to hire me in Florida, so I wound up waitressing at a Danish restaurant for four months.

You know who the worst waitress in the world is? Me.

Although I did find out that there is a very fine line in waitressing, where you have to find the perfect ratio of treating people like crap and getting a bigger tip. You can’t be unpleasant, just surly. Surly brings it in. I don’t know if it’s fear, or a latent S&M interest, or customer insecurity, but the ruder I was with customers, the bigger the tip. But in the grand scheme of things, I could really live without this knowledge.

Then I met a guy from Oregon with beautiful blue eyes. Nice arm muscles. I imagined him doing all sorts of outdoorsy things, like rappelling and camping. While I don’t know a crampon from a tampon, the outdoorsy Oregon thing was appealing. Blueberries. Trees. I bet he smelled like pine.

Three years later, he didn’t smell like pine, and I’m a single mom. That’s ok, though. I’m ecstatic about the child. I had given up on pregnancy. Many had tried, none had succeeded. (I should really needlepoint that into a nice pillow, or something).

And I just found a two-bedroom apartment close to my job, close to the highway to get my kid to the best daycare, and relatively close to my parents. The rent is half my salary. Close, close, close. I’m sick of close. I want something different.

I miss season changes. The weather in Florida is like being in a Vegas casino with no windows and no clocks. You forget there’s a universe out there. It’s 90 degrees today, and the A/C at home is on 72. I miss autumn leaves, and jackets, and crisp air, and scarves. I miss my boots. There’s something about the North, and hot cups of tea, and a solemnity that comes from a climate that’s not sunny and 80 degrees year-round. There’s an intellect that lives in areas where you have to compete for jobs and prove yourself to succeed that you just don’t find in an area where people move to so they can live by the beach.

I miss smart people.

I’m not saying they’re not out there, they just seem to be more concentrated in other areas. Now that I’m thinking about who I am, and where I’m going, and where I’m taking my daughter, and the possibility of having a future partner, I realize I can’t stay here. South Florida doesn’t reflect my ideals.

I’m not sure what my ideals are, I just know they don’t smell like coconut.

Please, please, please be normal

Today I brought the Kid to the new apartment. We've been staying at my parents' while I unpacked a few boxes and aired the place out from the previous chain-smoking tenant.

I had hoped to have more done, and have her room looking much like her old room so she would know she was home, but with my regular week added to driving back and forth to be with her for dinner and bath and bedtime, I just wasn't getting much done.

After her bath this evening, I told her we were going to the new house.

"New house!" she yelled.

I said it was going to be her, and Mommy.

"An' Daddy!" she shouted, while my heart dislodged from my chest and shattered into a million irreparable fragments.

"No," I said, trying to look like I wasn't in desperate need of a 300-lb. Prozac and a tissue. "No Daddy".

I'm trying so hard to find the perfect balance between Reassuring and Spoiling Rotten. It's so hard to resist the temptation to run out and buy her a pony.

We're here, she's asleep (knock wood, praise Jesus, glory be to Krishna) and I have time to get some schoolwork done. Maybe the Unpacking Fairies will show up while I sleep, since I've been very, very good.

Speaking of Prozac, TGLETSITCAFM has said several funny things lately. None of which I remember. He did get a little loopy with the Clip Art last week. Here's a photo of him with his hand over his mouth, trying to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a pigtailed schoolgirl. He did NOT approve of me using this photo. He is convinced I am trying to steal his soul.










Me: "It's the back of your head, jackass".

Him: "An UNAUTHORIZED shot of the back of my head."

Me: "But it's NEWS."

Him: "Shut up."

And here shall I die.

I will never, ever, ever move again.

The move sucked. Really and truly. Really, really, and truly, truly.

But now it's over, and I'm unpacking.

I'm finding things that have been packed away for a few years. Little things I bought when I was single, or childless, or just had money in general. Stuff that men find silly. Like small cordial glasses that I bought in Montreal. Here and there, the girl stuff is coming out again. I'm thinking about painting a wall pink.

Just because I can. Just to celebrate the lack of testosterone in the house.

I just got an IM from the ex-husband that he got engaged yesterday. I'm happy for him, as the girl that he's marrying is absolutely lovely. Him, not such a prize. But maybe together they'll be great.

I just might paint the whole apartment pink.