It's been too quiet around these parts

MamaFox did this one, and I think my results are pretty spot-on!  

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are a Doris!

You are a Doris -- "I must help others."

Dorises are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.


• * Share fun times with me.


• * Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.


• * Let me know that I am important and special to you.


• * Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.

In Intimate Relationships

• * Reassure me that I am interesting to you.


• * Reassure me often that you love me.


• * Tell me I'm attractive and that you're glad to be seen with me.

What I Like About Being a Doris

• * being able to relate easily to people and to make friends


• * knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better


• * being generous, caring, and warm


• * being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings


• * being enthusiastic and fun-loving, and having a good sense of humor

What's Hard About Being a Doris

• * not being able to say no


• * having low self-esteem


• * feeling drained from overdoing for others


• * not doing things I really like to do for myself for fear of being selfish


• * criticizing myself for not feeling as loving as I think I should


• * being upset that others don't tune in to me as much as I tume in to them


• * working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings

Dorises as Children Often

• * are very sensitive to disapproval and criticism


• * try hard to please their parents by being helpful and understanding


• * are outwardly compliant


• * are popular or try to be popular with other children


• * act coy, precocious, or dramatic in order to get attention


• * are clowns and jokers (the more extroverted Dorises), or quiet and shy (the more introverted Dorises)

Dorises as Parents

• * are good listeners, love their children unconditionally, and are warm and encouraging (or suffer guilt if they aren't)


• * are often playful with their children


• * wonder: "Am I doing it right?" "Am I giving enough?" "Have I caused irreparable damage?"


• * can become fiercely protective

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at HelloQuizzy

A discovery and a confession

I am a childish, selfish person sometimes.

Well, a lot of the time, if I'm being honest.

On my weight loss/health blog, I talked about making lists for myself. Chore charts, goals, the whole shebang. (as I'm writing here, I'm also realizing that I have quite the post for there brewing, too... watch out, Blogger, Stuart's got duty, and Amber's on a writing binge!) Excellent intentions, realistic goals, yet this morning I woke to a filthy kitchen, and I'm not dressed and it's 1:00 pm.

The not being dressed thing is fine. It's Saturday. The dirty kitchen? Ew. Starts the whole day off on the wrong foot. Want to know WHY my kitchen was dirty? My husband was home yesterday. I wish that fact implied that I was too busy in the throes of passion to even consider loading the dishwasher and wiping the cabinets.

The interesting fact is that it is 1:00 pm and the kitchen is clean, laundry is going, Logan's had a bath. Oh, and my darling husband is at work. What's the difference?

Well, while my knight in shining armor sat in the man cave yesterday, perusing Craigslist, wishing that he could afford a motorcycle or 1978 Camaro to fix up, I sat on my butt. I knew chores needed to be done, but I'll be damned if I'm going to get up and do something while HE sits and relaxes.

Real grown up, right?

So today, I get to make up for it. Ugh. Sometimes I really am amazed at my childishness.

For Amber and Katie

Me too.

We evacuated to Alexandria last time, and whateverthatonewas came right toward us! I told the man that I wasn't evacuating again. He told me oh yes, I was. This should be fun. Lots and lots of fun.

*big sigh*

To Amber.

Word.

What the heck, dude. It's coming right for both of us.

I could do without this hurricane nonsense. Florida is officially off the table in the future. Not that it was ever *on* the table, but now I'm vindicated in my badmouthing and suffering the bad karma that comes with talking you know what.

I'm not touching you

You know that sibling backseat of the car annoyance?  The finger pointed directly at you, spiraling mere fractions of an inch from your skin/book/jacket?  My insides feel like a big ol' "I'm not touching you" victim.

Hurricane - go away.  Don't come back.  You're not welcome here.  Ever.

Headache - see above.  I cannot function as a mom, much less human when I cannot bear light, sound, or quick movements.

Ah, and here's a little known fact:

A night off does not actually constitute a night "off" when I return to every dish in the house filthy and cluttering the counters and sink.  Especially when the next day is duty day.

I need a big ol' ray of good somewhere.  Where's my curly red-haired wig and shaggy dog when I need 'em?

Swear needs an update.

A small one, at least.

Here's my beef for the day. I'm a west-coaster. I don't enjoy hurricane season looming over my head. I think Ed Hardy shirts are tacky,and I'm not too jazzed about having to come within 3 feet of some people to determine whether or not they are homeless. I'm spending 3 times as much as is normal on groceries, and I am so far from home it's not even funny.

The upside:

I've been planted here, and so I bloom accordingly.
I'm in touch with the Kumu Hula starting the new keiki halau, because I WILL be back in Honolulu in the next few years.
I'm tough as all get out.

My husband wants to retire to San Sebastian. I guess he'll cook and I'll teach English. Can we pass as Basque?

Never gets easier.

Yes, believe it or not, never does get easier with time. I'm considering curling into a ball and crying, but I'm not going to.

Dropped the man off at the airport at 5 am this morning. Now it's just me and the dog at the house, I think we'll throw a wild party. Right. Anyway, walking in, I saw this young girl, maybe 13 dressed in plaid pants and a faux fur leopard print coat. My muddled mind immediately came up with "They're making punk kids younger and younger these days." Then, "What on earth is she doing in a coat in the Gulf of Mexico in August?" Granted, the sun hadn't come up yet, but it was still in the high 70's. Maybe she was going to someplace colder. Or maybe she was actually in pajamas and a bathrobe and I just thought she was in street clothes. 5 in the morning does strange things to you.

I always get lost on the way to and from the airport. Not really lost, mind you, but sort of dreamily, trancelike lost. I know where I'm going, but nothing looks familiar. Sometimes, when I'm on one of the less-frequented roads around here, out where things are a little deserted, I feel like I'm back in Kodiak. Something about the solitude. Yes, I hated the solitude in Kodiak, but that was because it was constant. A little solitude goes a long way. But since I started my day that way, and even though I've napped since then, I still feel a little dreamy and lost.

I wandered around the mall for awhile today, trying to shake the solitude, but even in a crowded place it found me. But I do have 3 new books to show for it: "Smoke and Mirrors," by Neil Gaiman (my absolute favorite author EVAR), "Naked Lunch," by William S. Burriughs (figured it was about time to pick that one up and give it a thorough read), and "Atlas Shrugged," by Ayn Rand. No, I've never read "Atlas Shrugged." 'Bout time for that one, too. First, I have to decide if I want to finish GOF (Harry Potter freak that I am). I'm right in the middle, and even though I've read it a million times I hate to stop right in the middle. But I'm itching for the Gaiman, too. Hmmmmm, decisions, decisions...

Issues? Who has those?

Something about standing naked in the cold rain is cleansing. Don't worry, we have a privacy fence and it was about 3 in the morning.

We had a hurricane scare earlier this week, school closed on Tuesday so I got drunk Monday night. I keep telling myself that the answers to my problems do not float inside a bottle of Southern Comfort, so I went out and tried some absinthe instead. Tastes like bathwater, but I like it. Not enough to pay for a glass all the time, but worth it once. By the way, answers are not found in a glass of that, either. Better to just drink the bathwater, if you're looking for answers.

Just so we all get this straight, I am not an alcoholic. But my therapist is out until next Friday and sometimes I imbibe a bit to relieve stress. You're all just lucky to not have survived a bout of my drunken typing here at the blog. It can be highly entertaing sometimes, or just plain pitiful.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, hurricanes and cleansing. Hmmmm....Totally lost my train of thought. I guess I just wanted to encoourage everyone to go strip down and stand in the rain at 3 am. Privacy fences are good thing to have handy. And a towel. And a fire in the fire pit, too.

Go try. Let me know how it goes.

the little box

Go ahead.


What fun is it if we don't know you always wanted to cookie cutter, dye it pink, and henna "eat me" over your love button?


Search engines are vanilla.


Now let's find you something non-toxic.

Warning - snarky bi+chiness ahead -

For those that may not be aware, the internet holds copious amounts of information.  Everything from aardvarks to zippers, and more.  

If, for instance, one were curious about the intricacies of grooming, utilizing a search engine can lead to results to help you solve the mystery.

Some such search engines include (but are not limited to):

http://www.google.com

http://www.blingo.com

http://www.winzy.com

http://www.yahoo.com

http://www.ask.com

Another oft overlooked feature of many websites is a search feature.  Many sites offer either a text field or a link where a user might enter a keyword or phrase to see if the topic burning in their mind has been discussed previously.

So if you're itching to know the latest in Brazilian Waxes or the use of sex toys during pregnancy, by all means, I encourage you to do a little research.  It'll keep you on your toes.

old mail

I was feeling inspired after looking at old mail and gave us a stamp.

http://www.postalmuseum.si.edu/museum/1d_Earhart_Mail.html

no your right I'm not a rockstar at design; that's Amber thing.

but I could see how people could start collecting.

What do you look at when your on the web just bumming around?

love letters

My favorite author inspires me to write love letters; I'll work on some later.

francesca lia block writes, "an experiment: love poem to each other
please write a short piece for the person above you,or just make them an offering--one word describing something you want to give them. i am curious to see how big a love poem we can create for each other."

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=235036127&blogid=419360871&page=2

my pal

*exhale*

This is going to be a jumbled mess.  I just need an outlet.  My insides are wailing, and I'm attempting not to do that myself.

I am so tired.  So incredibly tired.  My two year old had fever for 4 days, and hasn't been more than an arm's reach away from me in a week.  I need some space.  I need solitude.  I am CRAVING quiet and time to myself.  I need to be able to get some work done.  I cannot keep up with all my chores and tend to my sick little guy and take care of getting the big guy registered for school. 

Kind of following Katie's post, I need some personal development.  I need some self worth.  I understand that I'm doing an important job raising the boys.  I do understand it.  I am glad that they are affectionate, compassionate, and generally good kids.  I am relieved that they aren't dropped off at a daycare every day.  I went that route with Chase until he was 2, and the difference in Logan today and Chase at the same point is incredible.  I need friends.  Like real-life, able to give a hug, let's go get a drink friends.  I need some local support.  I feel completely alone here, and it sucks.  I need a challenge.  I need my brain to be challenged and I am longing to learn.

I'm tired of changing diapers.  I'm tired of being a waitress.  I'm tired of answering five million questions an hour about things that I know he all ready knows the answer to.  I'm tired of reiterating that the sofa is for sitting not jumping.  

I need a break.  I need something good.  I need something to remind myself that I do matter in this jumble of diapers, dishes, and disarray.

I'm not even asking for a tropical beach with an island boy at my beck and call.  Not that I'd turn that away right now.  

I had a "what am I doing here" moment yesterday.

See, I'm really driven. A good leader. Bright. With lots of potential. You'd think I'd be applying that to a successful career. We went to a barbecue at my husband's CO's house, and I was slightly jealous that I wasn't a CO. (Not a CO's wife- screw that noise!) I could be a CO. Not that I've ever had any desire to be in the military. My husband is very nurturing. He likes taking care of people, while I'm a good leader and very analytical. That's why he's a cook and I'm a SAHM driving myself crazy with bottled up "potential," waiting for the day we can switch roles and he can be a gourmet-cooking stay-at-home dad to teenage girls and I can be a society-shaping head of household on a feminist rampage.

I made myself feel better by reminding myself that while midwifery is a nurturing business, I'm getting into it so that I can empower women to take ownership of their bodies and take down the patriarchy. I'll just use that GI bill money to pay for my advanced practice nursing degree, and I'll infiltrate the hospitals, offering freedom to those who want it.

I want to break down barriers. How long do I have to stay around here changing diapers?

(And why do I feel the need to justify the fact that I love my kids and am very happy in my current role as if I'm a bad mom for harboring a secret ambition?)

So lame. Me, I mean.

I definitely lack the cool factor that my co-contributors have.  I am clueless when it comes to indie-rock, or indie anything, really.  I'm from small town Texas, and have a very limited frame of reference.  In school, there was no option for dance classes or other artistic training, either in school or allowed by my parents.  We were allowed by Mom to take one class through the school district's Continuing Education program.  My sister chose twirling, and I chose Manners & Etiquette.  

The speculation about me was pretty dead-on.  The shame is that I had to look up Dawson's Creek to see who Joey was.  Without getting knee-deep into a therapy session, let's say I didn't have much time or desire for me as a teenager.  Oh, and I never saw Cry Baby.  I think I have some DVD's to rent.

I am a complete nerd, with a habit of researching any and everything.  I have been that way since, well, forever.  I'm compassionate, sometimes to a fault.  I do have blue eyes that catch a lot of attention, and are incapable of hiding anything.  

In the last 10 years, I have made great strides in looking for me under the facade of caretaker and "good girl".  I've discovered an attraction to all things retro, specifically pinups and swing skirts.  I also love Middle Eastern dance, music, and food.  I'm the belly dancing, Southern Baptist "good girl".  

I am probably one of the most enthusiastic and optimistic depressed people you will ever encounter.

As is my MO, I'm not entirely sure I fit with the group here, but I'm gonna give it my all and take advantage of an outlet to purge some emotions that I normally wouldn't share - or even admit to having.

Late to the Party, as Usual

Awww, Corey? I always thought I was more of a Deb...You know, screw it all, shave the head (hair is in the sink if you want to glue it), oh wait, no, I didn't really try to kill myself, just wanted the attention...Yeah, complex but not so. You know, the tomboy who sometimes wears pink, the otherwise “normal-looking” girl with the purple hair, the bookish child grown to an introverted teenager who suddenly jumped out into the world one day and yelled “Look at me!”

Mother once told me that I wouldn’t make it on my looks alone and I wondered, “What looks?” I still see the too-thin girl with dark eyes too big for the face and constellations of freckles across her nose. My hair will never be longer than my chin because I hate it. Right now it’s the regular brown, but I have that hair-dyeing itch again. I was anorexic but I don’t think I am anymore. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell. Life tends to be like that. I can give or take food, but I do eat. Sometimes, I even get hungry.

So, me…Who is me? A sort of twisted sense of humor; I’m the girl in the room who is quiet during the jokes and snickers at inappropriate times. I know how to use my grammar, but sometimes I prefer to not. Mom says I could read before the age of 4, but my real love is dance – and if one more person makes a stripper comment…Ok, so I have a sense of humor about that. But no, not the adult kind of dance. Sorry, boys.

So, I majored in dance and also English, but then I decided to get married and have kids, a choice that I’m glad I made. Most of the time I’m happily married. So now I’m back in school, but not dancing. Juggling school, work, and family, is an interesting prospect to say the least. Oh, and I’ve just been diagnosed with clinical depression. Surprise! But I’ve managed to keep my head above the water and I’m doing much better than I was. Hey, I’m here, I’m awake and out of bed, and that counts for something.

So, who am I really? I guess I’ll find out right along with everyone else. The road goes on forever and the party never ends, right?

Now I have to go. Mr. Christie is begging for attention and my dog is begging to be fed. If the road doesn’t go on, at least life does. Thank Goodness for that.

Suddenly, this summer.

I love the tropics, if not for the weather, then certainly for the giant cockroaches.
What is it with this latitude and giant bugs? Seriously, the world over. Da Cock-a-roach. Palmetto bugs. Madagascar hissing cockroaches.

A particularly unfortunate one (let's call him Sebastian, shall we?) made it into our house this morning and was subsequently exterminated by my very talented husband.

Chased around the house by an angry mob (or man), then devoured, devoured by ants. Horrible, hungry ants. They took him, part by part, through the cut-out cinder block wall to the lanai.

The former periplaneta's cousin is now facing a lobotomy from the trauma, while his aunt is fanning herself, surrounded by carnivorous plants in a steamy, wrought iron and glass conservatory, clearly in denial about the insect's sexuality.

(I'd post pictures, but do you really want to see a picture of half a dead cockroach surrounded by ants? Don't answer that.)

Introductory rambling

Is this to be a snarky rant, a treatise on how I view my peers, an answer to the rather strange question, "If I were a meal, what would I be?"

Perhaps.

Maybe it's a shout-out to the strength of my fellow nice girls.

Yes.

It is.

Shout out to all of us, holding it together. Because being positive will clear the hard road ahead. Because being single parents, whether on a patrol schedule or full-time, is a testament to our strength. Because we are doing our best.

About me:

I am not Peggy Lipton, but I am suffering from a strange case of blondorexia. I did feel alone in high school, but that was a long time ago. When I read princess stories to my girls, I change the endings.

If I were a meal, you'd have to go to 4 different stores to get all my ingredients. So sorry for making you run all around town.

Some girls swear they know me

Amber is Dawson's Joey, and Allison Vernon Williams from Cry-Baby. I can see Amber as the teen caregiver; the only one that didn't get that she was the most beautiful girl in the room. I envision her as always have had having that deep-pools-of-water depth behind her eyes, even when she smiled, even as a child. I imagine her as having a secret diary hidden behind pretty pastel sweater sets on the top shelf of her closet in her childhood bedroom.

Christie is the song "Punk Rock Girl" by The Dead Milkmen, and Corey Mason from Empire Records. If I would have met Christie in high school I would have had a girl crush; not in the perv way, but in the "I want her to wear the other side of my 24 carat best friends necklace" way. Christie would have been the girl in my dance class refusing to make eye contact with me, who wore purple leg-warmers, and chomped her gum loudly at her indifference to the other girls' in class. She would have pegged me as "one of them" and I would have been beyond crushed. I would have falled all over myself to prove she was wrong; only proving how right she was.

Katie is Peggy Linton beautiful and sparks images of listening to The Mamas & The Papas while driving down a rural scenic highway your freshman year to Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I imagine her as the girl in high school who hung out in the art room during lunch hour; the one who knew what Dadaism was and had read The Dharma Bums by 13. Someone who never tried to "fit in" and never had to try to be cool. Her very being must have flew over her classmate's head. High school strikes me as having to have been somewhat lonely to have been so sophisticated.

I am Angela Chase from My So-called Life; I think to much and I fall for the wrong guys. I wore knee socks in high school and had baseball player superstitious habits like only painting my toes silver, or wearing blue shoes.

damn you Jordan Catalano.