…and, boy, are my arms tired!

So far this morning:

*I cooked Master breakfast (bacon, egg and cheese biscuit sandwiches)

*reheated and packed Master’s lunch (leftover pot roast, garlic mashed taters and carrots)

*serviced him after his shower

*walked 2 1/2 miles (in less than 30min)

*made 5 gallons of laundry soap

*took a shower

It’s 7-freakin-30am.

It can be nap time now?

This early morning shit is for the birds.

At least Master is off that 4:30am rotation (for now anyway). Even though getting up at 5:30 is still suck-worthy, that one hour makes a HUGE difference.

And he can drive me down the road and drop me off now. When he was leaving at 5am, it was still dark and the last time I tried to go for a walk before the sun came up, I could hear howling (wolves? coyotes?) from way too close and there was rustling in the trees and I got all kinds of spooked. At least by 6am the sun is up and I’ll be able to see the animal as it attacks me.

I’m dieting/exercising with determination now. When I went in for my check up at the docs, she worried that I’m in the beginning stages of hypertension. Which, considering my family history, isn’t a huge shock. But after watching my mom deal with the medication side effects and the general health problems associated with her blood pressure and weight, I don’t wanna go there. I don’t need to lose anywhere near what she needs to lose, but I’d rather do it now than have to be trying to do it at her age.

So, Master said he wants me to do another 20 min on the treadmill (which he has set up on an incline, the heartless bastard) later today and maybe, if I have any energy left, I’ll try the Nordic Track, too.

We got the Nordic Track for free from Master’s boss. It’s a really old one but it works. Unfortunately, I’m about as uncoordinated as a kid on his first two-wheeler so getting the hang of how to move my arms and legs and not fall? Fun. Funny, too.

Kinda like this girl here. Hee.

Also, y’all have scared the dickens out of me over taking that prozac. I don’t wanna lose my orgasms! *sob* I’d rather have pms!

Yesterday I repotted all of the flowers in the flower boxes on the deck. I’d planted them in super cheap dirt and they weren’t faring so well so I bought the Miracle Grow potting soil to start over. I don’t know if they can be salvaged but I’m gonna try. They’re only petunias and they seem to be hardy little flowers. The herbs, however, were a lost cause. I dumped them out and just planted a couple of parsley plants. That’s the herb I use the most when it’s fresh anyway.

The tomatoes look great, the cucumber plant is growing.. the rest of the seeds haven’t done a damn thing. I figured this year would be difficult until I get a handle on the growing season/weather pattern so I’m not too disappointed. Next year, I’ll be ready.

The weather is fucking cooky up here. It’s July, yanno? I should not be seeing my breath when I go outside! We about froze our asses off at the fireworks. We all had jackets and blankets and we were still shivering. There was a week of temps in the upper 80′s and I sincerely think that was all the summer we’re going to have. And the kids want to get a pool? Wtf for, ice skating?

Speaking of pools.

The other day, in jest, I made a pithy comment in the Spankfest group on Fet about watersports and needing a snorkel.

Master’s Spankfest shopping list this morning? Snorkel, goggles and a wading pool.

A fucking wading pool!

What was my safeword again?

Oh, that’s right! I don’t have one!

I want a do-over. Hmmph.

~cunt

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I have rants. Let me show you them.

Rant #1-

My ex-father in law chose not to come and see us when we were visiting in Illinois. Because he is divorced from the ex-MIL, he avoids gatherings where she might show. Totally fine and totally his choice to make.

However.

Do NOT make my child cry over feeling guilty because we did not stop and see YOU. We crammed an 880 mile round trip and two parties (that I had to prepare for when I got there!) into three fucking days with myself and 3 teenagers so don’t EVEN lay the guilt trip on my kid because you chose to sit on your ass and not leave your house.

Seriously. Jes was in tears when she got off the phone with him. I was LIVID.

So I called him back. Look here, I said, please don’t make her feel bad over a decision that I made. It wasn’t up to her whether or not we stopped to see you. It was up to me and I decided not to. We had a lot going on, it was a long drive and while I would have liked for the kids to visit you, it didn’t work out that way. You are more than welcome to come here and visit us any time you want to. But if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.

So he falls all over himself reassuring me that he wasn’t trying to make her feel bad and he isn’t mad and he didn’t mean anything and he knows we were busy, yada yada yada.

Then.

He mails a card to Brandon. In it is a note to Jes. It says “We waited for you guys to stop by. We bought presents for the baby. Maybe next time you’ll stop.”

That’s it. Word for fucking word.

Seriously? Seriously? Fuck OFF.

I am incredibly finished with my ex’s family. Every single one of them. No lie. No more invitations, no more nothing.

I left that family by divorcing their loser of a son 15 fucking years ago. My children were INFANTS. Like, literally. Infants. Jes was 2, Am was 1 and I was pregnant with the boy. What? Were they supposed to call and arrange visitation schedules in baby talk? Wtf.

In my opinion, maintaining relationships like that falls to the adults. To THEM. To their son. It’s HIS job to plan birthday parties and holidays and make sure the kids got there to visit. NOT MINE.

It wasn’t enough that I DID invite them to every single birthday party that I had (when I didn’t even want them there considering that we aren’t family anymore!) That I made sure the kids got there, and got home, for Christmas and Thanksgiving, sharing MY time with the kids when I would much rather they spent holidays with myself and my family.

And all I ever heard about that is how “they only contact us on a holiday.” *whine*

Well, pick up the fucking phone! You are the adult here. The onus lies on YOU. Not on kids!

Gah! I’m so mad I could spit.

I’m just done. So done. They’re all fuckheads.

*scrubs my hands together viciously* There! I have washed my hands of you!

~~*~~

Rant #2-

To FR:

An unwed teenage mother!

Oh noes!

Teh horror!

Really? So, like, she should go kill herself or something? Or is it that I should be hanging my head in shame because of my “awful parenting”?

Honest to Pete. What a twit.

It happened. It’s done. There is no going back in time and changing it. So while you sit over there and rant about that awful parenting of mine, I’ll be cuddling my granddaughter and helping my daughter become a mother.

I could think of worse ways to spend my time. Like, say, bitching about all those blogs that you claim you don’t read.

Taking the hard road doesn’t come without its benefits. She’ll be a stronger and better person for it. This may not be what I’d have chosen for her, but it’s what she chose for herself. My love and support doesn’t end just because of that.

What a pity that any mother would think it should.

Apparenty, none of my kids are going to be easy. They all have minds and distinct individual personalities. I’d much rather they be this way than tiny little drones following the sheeple herd, too afraid to rock the boat.

But, neither are Master and I “easy”. You can call it drama, you can call it whatever you want. We call it living. I wouldn’t trade one second of our life for all the non-drama in the world. There is nothing we have been through that hasn’t brought us closer together and cemented us as a couple.

I’m pretty suspicious of people who claim to never have a rocky road to travel, yanno? That whole “dog shit on the carpet” thing.

Smooth sailing doesn’t necessarily build character or strengthen a relationship. What’s going to happen the first time the wind blows if you haven’t learned any techniques to get through a storm?

And, God, what does it say about a person who spends half her day trying desperately to reassure anyone listening how wonderful her life is while slamming anyone who dares to bring up something stinky? I can’t even imagine the insecurity that exists in people like that. If they had any clue that they’re displaying the exact opposite of the image they are trying so hard to show.

I mean, it’s pitiful really. I should have sympathy and if she wasn’t such a bitch, I might!

I’m never going to be ashamed that Master and I have “moments” of not being perfect. I am never going to be ashamed of my kids or of the choices they make. I am never going to be ashamed of having pms, of having to work at submission, of not being the greatest cook or the world’s best gardener.

I’m just not. I am me and sometimes I stink. The End.

Love me or hate me, but for God’s sake, find something else to do with your time. Flattering as it is, your obsession with me is kinda creepy.

Shoo.

~~*~~

Rant #3-

When I was in Illinois, I wore shorts. And I was sweating!

Here, we’re still running the furnace.

When I was in Illinois, my mother’s flowers were blooming, the garden was planted; they were picking strawberries!

Here, we’re still running the furnace.

When I was in Illinois, we turned the fans on cuz it was hot!

Here, we’re still running the furnace.

When I was in Illinois, my sister was swimming in her pool.

Here, we’re still running the fucking furnace!

In conclusion- I’d like to move to Illinois please.

~~*~~

Rant #4-

I find it hard to believe that I have taste buds so vasty different than the 310 people who rated this recipe with 4 or 5 stars when, in actuality, it tasted like slow simmered dog food.

It smelled good! Tasted like crap.

AND wasted an entire package of boneless pork chops.

I’m going through a period of kitchen fail at the moment. It’s frustrating. I can’t remember what other dish I made that was horrific but it was pretty recently whatever it was. Times like this makes me want to revert to packaged meals that are impossible to mangle.

~~*~~

Rant #5-

I? Am a fatass.

It’s true.

I fattened up over the winter like the Thansgiving turkey. No one to blame but myself. I stepped on a scale at a friend’s house a couple of weeks ago and… oh. my. God.

Fat. Ass.

So! Expect to see a fair amount of diet/exercise talk on this blog in the near future. I’m not aiming for skinny-mini (Master doesn’t like them bony girls!), I’ll be happy with tying my shoes and breathing at the same time.

Besides. I have to shed some pounds because I am going to make Master take me to Spank in August. *nods* Y’all should plan to go, too. We could have a party! (seriously though. How cool would it be to meet up with you all?! I could give you those cookies I keep promising!)

AND we have a guest coming right after that. :D

Must. Lose. Weight.

20lbs by the end of August. That’s my goal.

~~*~~

Rant #Ilostcount-

American Idol.

America, you disappoint me. You SO chose the wrong guy.

It’s way belated but needed to be said.

Kris=Fail.
Adam=Win.

I can’t even figure out how Kris stole the votes. Adam is a GOD. Kris is a… a… a cow fart counter.

Bah.

~~*~~

Rant#Million-

The kids only have two days of school left.

Need I say more?

*sob*

~~*~~

I might be done. For now.

I guess the “Die, Motherfucker, DIE!” portion of pms was just late to the party. ;-)

~cunt

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Smoking

Four and a half months ago I quit smoking. I started smoking when I was about 13 (I’m 34 now), was buying them myself by the pack at 15. This was wayyy back when a pack of Dorals was 75 cents and you didn’t have to have ID. The good old days. I don’t know yet if four months is a success story but I’m trying.
Anyway, four months ago I needed to lose a good 10 to 15 pounds. Now… blah… now I need to lose a good 25 or more. At this rate (quick calculations) I’ll be really fat in a year. It was okay when I was hiding in sweat pants and sweat shirts behind the monitor, but now… NOW… we are posting nude photos on the net. Talk about a reality check. This is humiliation at it’s best.

It’s truly almost not worth quitting. You just trade one health problem or addiction for another one. I suppose food is cheaper but still. I was less depressed about my physical appearance when I was a smoker. And I haven’t noticed any immediate benefits from not smoking AND it’s not getting any easier, I still want one really bad. The only thing I have noticed is that smokers stink…lol. It’s true. Y’all do. So there is my whine for the day.

I didn’t feel very well yesterday. I don’t feel all that wonderful today either but I have to ask myself… honestly… do I feel too bad to get the shit done that I am supposed to get done or am I taking advantage of the fact that Master won’t expect me to get it done if I’m sick? Yeah, I’ll be tackling some chores here pretty soon. Pretty sad when you lay on your own guilt trips.

That’s it for today and I’m done for the week. Hoo-ya!

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