or at least better.

My back is A-OK, I must say. It’s not back to totally normal, but day to day activities are now able to take place without feeling like there’s a knuckle driving into my spine. I can’t just sit on our couch in the evenings though. Most nights I spend sitting on a stool, and for some reason sitting in my car gives me that knuckle in the spine feeling as well. It is getting much better though, and I was even able to sit on the couch last night for a whole 20 minutes! The arm pain was not nearly as well as I would have liked on MOnday, and so I did take Tuesday and Wednesday off to make sure that situation was totally under control. Sucks to be using this much sick time so early in the year, but I don’t think it was avoidable.

We do have some exciting news, we took advantage of me being unable to work by going car buying yesterday. We bought James a 2006 (so, used) Subaru Impreza WRX STI. (Read: super super sporty-fast-maniac-huge-spoiler-car) I did all of the legwork, which I kind of got a thrill out of doing and totally enjoyed, by calling around to all the dealers in a 250 mile radius to try to get the bottom line price. I managed to fanagle the price down while James sat looking out the window at his soon-to-be new car and drooling. I must say, it’s a very pretty car. So shiny! So fast! So pretty! I told him we should name it. He kind of laughed, and said he’s never named a new car before, so the rest of the day I kept dropping girl names.

“Don’t drive Miyoki through too many slushy puddles!” (she is a subaru, after all)
“Little Katelyn is soooooo pretty!” (I don’t actually like that one, because I think of a little toddler girl for some reason)
and finally, I’d open the garage door and call out, “Good night, Natasha!” before going to bed.

So yeah, congratulate James on his new baby, and condole with him on the departure of the very first car he ever bought, the ford contour SVT (it never had a name.)

Other names I can come up with (or came up with):

Shirozaki
Kirusawa
Miyzaki
Suzuki
Hiroshima
Natalie
Natasha
Katelyn
Mae
Totoro
The older sister in Totoro whose name I can’t remember
Mawazaki

Here’s the from it’s listing photo (ie: not a photo we took) It has silver wheels though instead of the gold (we made them switch them) Click to see a bigger version:

Anyway, it’s back to the grind now. Jocelyn’s birthday is on Saturday, we’re having a little party for her, and she has informed us that she wants THREE BALLOONS. Every time we ask her what she wants for her birthday, she says THREE BALLOONS!

So she’ll be (at least) getting 3 balloons on Saturday! Yesterday morning, she looked up at me and asked, “Am I three now?”

Not yet sweetie! Oh I wish it would be never! Ok.. maybe not really. But she was a baby such a short time ago. Sniff sniff!

more updates later. yeeee-haw, it’s good to be back!

hi there.

i just want to say i haven’t forgotten you, internet. i was all excited to start posting again this week. however the grueling schedule of working day and night and even weekends and holidays (and birthdays, i’m 33 now) seemed to have taken a toll on my body. specifically, my back and my arms (carpel tunnel) are leading a revolt against me. chiropractic care and wrist braces are my weapons of choice.

as anyone who has ever felt the twinge of CT knows, the only real way to get rid of it is to stay away from a computer. i fudged at that earlier this week, but today i drew the line and took the day off. i’m not planning on working much tomorrow either. hopefully a good 4 days away from keyboards will be enough of a gesture for my arms to forgive me and come back to health. once theyre in the fold, maybe my back will follow suit.

anyway. long way to say, sorry, but i won’t be playing catchup like i said i would. sniff sniff.

someone remind me never to beat myself up like this for WORK again. so so so so not worth it. i’m in PAIN, internet, PAIN.

hopefully i’ll see y’all next monday.

bye.

I love playing sudoku. It started with the washington post express when I had a temp job working in DC. I’d get the express, skim through it, and do the puzzle on the train into town. When I stopped doing that, my habit tapered off a bit… ok, I stopped completely. but that has all changed now that I have sudoku on my phone. I always thought I could never do that, I always thought I HAD to have paper and pencil to do a puzzle, but no. The verizon sudoku program is a good one, and I will often carry my phone to bed with me to have one more go at the current puzzle (and maybe start another one) before calling it a night.

Lately, I’ve noticed that I do some weird things while I work out a puzzle. Sometimes, I’m concentrating and everything is clicking and there’s just nothing going on in my brain to distract me.

However other times, when I’ve run into a dead end, I start talking to myself. (Not out loud, becuase that would be crazy.) No, I talk to myself in my head. I tell myself that the 2 can’t go in that column, or I’ll make note of where the 9 is in that other cube, or I’ll just mumble stuff as I stare at the puzzle and try not to be too tempted by that “hint” button.

OK.. so while talking to myself in my head may not be crazy, I’ve noticed that.. well… ahem… sometimes it isn’t *my* voice that is talking to me. The first time it happened, it was a deep throaty man’s voice. and not any man’s voice… the voice had a jamaican accent. Maybe it’s just my own way of amusing myself (and it worked. I was amused.) but it *was* fun to hear, “Ya cyan’t put that 2 there, mon. Think, wooman! think!”

Then it wasn’t anything for a while. Just me. My own voice. Until recently, when I’ve been hearing a man’s scottish accent.

So, yeah, the jury’s still out on my mental stability. But when I’m stumped with the sudoku puzzle, it’s always nice to have someone talk to me about the validity of whether that 2 is eliminated or not. Especially in a sexy scottish accent.

– amy

Oh, my, it’s a 641 page publication! that includes 371 tables that had to be converted from excel into html and tailored to a fancy stylesheet! I crawled out from under the actual conversion, but now the QC is squishing me! help! help! send lots of diet coke and altoids raspberry sours so i can get this sucker turned in tomorrow!

unfortunately after it’s turned in, i’m sure my client’s QC will find more stuff and I’ll be working this weekend again (last weekend i spent at the office). But by Tuesday of next week, I’ll be having champagne to celebrate the final emergence (like a butterfly! a squished and bruised highly caffeinated butterfly!) of me from under this huginormorificentish pub!

– amy

so what do you want for your birthday?
a 50 f/1.4 lens.
(long long stare, and confused look)
OH! I mean a 50 f/1.EIGHT lens!
but we already have that.
I know, I’m saying, I already got my birthday present. you don’t have to get my anything.
Well. I’ll have to think up something.
OK, but you have a $40 limit.

——-

Me, sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankie just so, with laptop on lap.
James, just walked in.

Oooh. Can you hand me the remote?
(gets and hands me the remote)
And that pillow?
(gets and hands me the pillow)
Ooohh, and the phone?
Kiss my ass.
I will, if you get me the phone.

(luckily, he didn’t make me kiss his ass. I would have though, rather than disturb my perfectly constructed blankie and laptop work cocoon.)

——-

late late at night. we are in bed. it is dark. and very quiet.

will you scratch my back?
moaning and groaning about having to scratch the itchy girl
that’s what you should get me. a back scratcher
But you already have me!
you should get me a back scratcher that doesn’t make ‘oh i’m so put out by this’ noises
heh.
ooh, actually what I should have said I wanted for my birthday is a microwave that works, and pipes that don’t sound like the acopolypse is upon us when you flush the toilet.
I’ll just get you a backscratcher that moans and groans.
But I already have that.

a cute one, for good measure.

at the dinner table, everyone sitting down and eating, which doesn’t happen as often as it should. right in the middle of dinner conversation of the doings of school, piano class, tutus, and the butt and fart jokes (from ethan, oh lord please make it stop):

jocelyn: Daddy is my BEST FRIEND!
(collective “AWWWWWWW” from the parents)

——

the work is letting up. there will be work done over the weekend probably, and all the overtime i put in in the last week was balanced out by the bouts of not working due to the DC metro area being covered in ice, and also a boy with a sick tummy who stayed home yesterday (it was from eating a not-ripe-enough banana and needing to poop, he’s fine now, thanks).

hopefully we will return to our regularly scheduled blogging next week, where i have lots to tell AND SHOW you! Our swap package arrived, and boy was it a hit!

-amy

But I thought I’d log in during the 15 minutes I’ve alloted myself to shove handfuls of food in my mouth so that I can keep plugging away to tell you these 2 things:

Thing 1:

You know that disgusting sound of food wafting over from a neighboring cube? It’s that sound of the food item being saucy, so you can hear that squishiness as the cubee stirs it slowly, mixing the tupperware’s contents about to disperse the heat that the office kitchen microwave graciously beamed straight into one spot. It’s that SQUISH-SQUISH of moisturey particles rubbing against each other and then letting go that makes my stomach turn and my nose wrinkle and most of all, makes me reach for my headphones so I don’t have to hear it.

You know that sound? I can’t STAND that sound.

Thing 2:

You know when you settle down in your cube with your styrofoam container of edible food-stuff brought up from the cafe in the lobby, and you open it and there you behold (and smell! don’t forget smell!) the delicious scent of chicken marsala sitting in a delectable sauce on top of a bed of fluffy, cooked-just-right rice with taste-bud-orgasm potatoes au gratin sitting to the side, and you put your fork in, and carefully mix some of the rice with some of the mouth watering mushroom sauce and a little bite of chicken, and you cah hear the sound of the creamy moist yummiliciousness as you combine the three and then bring them to your mouth to savor? You know that sound? The one that is in all other respect, identical to the OTHER sound?

I LOVE that sound.

Back to deadline-ulcer-inducing work stress,

amy

i’m feeling pretty busy. it’s the not good kind of busy.

it’s the too much stuff to do in the allotted space of time kind of busy. i feel like i need to take a day off from work just to do the laundry and clean the kitchen kind of busy. there’s so much stuff that i want to do and just not enough time to do it in.

could someone please give me some extra time? i’d appreciate it.

i worked at home yesterday, using the dusting of snow we got as the perfect excuse.

i’m working at home today, except this time it’s because of a kink in my neck that sends me into agonizing pain every time i rotate my head anywhere outside of a safe 40 degree window. i’m going to the doctor’s office this morning to hopefully get some muscle relaxers. please cross your fingers that i don’t hit someone. the last time i had this neck thingee… i hit someone (shoosh, it was really just a scratch, the insurance company didn’t need to jack up our rates THAT much).

i hurt.

and there’s a mountain of laundry to do.

and i still haven’t sent out our swap package or the postcard swap i signed us up for. (or even OBTAINED the postcards.)

let’s see, i also need to go get some groceries, pay bills, pay the piano teacher, finish up ethan’s jammies that grandma sent, do some laundry, fold some laundry, put some laundry away, clean the kitchen, make a valentines day mailbox for ethan to take to school (by tomorrow), make/buy some valentines for the kids, download the pictures off the camera, fiddle with wordpress for non-blog purposes, call and get someone to come fix our microwave, call and get someone to come investigate the pipes of dhoom that thunder ominously nearly everytime the toilet is flushed, sign up to bring something for the kids’ valentines day parties, get/make whatever i sign them up for (bags of candy is looking good at this point), oh, and bill 8 hours, get to the doctor get to the pharmacy (hopefully) and back home again without crashing my vehicle into anyone else’s vehicle… oh such lofty lofty dreams of accident free days…

it’s lists like that that make me want to bill 8 hours to sick leave, sit on the couch with a blankie and play ms pacman all day.

it’s sounding really good.

i won’t though. because i am a responsible adult. RESPONSIBLE.

yeah, i didn’t fool me either. i still won’t, but i’m not very responsible or adultish. because if i did bill 8 hours to sick leave, i would still do laundry and try to clean with my limited mobility, because at the end of the day, having a nice clean house with some things checked off my massive list would make my feel much better than looking around and knowing i COULD have done something but chose instead to piss away time i had (and have been lamenting for*) doing diddly squat.

so maybe i am a little responsible after all.

*lamenting for? did you raise your eyebrows too? is that right? what’s the other word that would have worked there? WAS THAT ALLOWED AM I GOING TO BE ARRESTED BY THE GRAMMAR POLICE? oh well. maybe the’ll have ms. pacman in the grammar clink.

that’s all. pity party for amy today. that’s the agenda. just wanted to fill you in.

-amy has no witty retorts.

It’s a late arrival home. Your husband is at class. Which means that you pick them up from school, play with them, feed them, wipe their butts, answer all their questions, bathe them, change them into jammies, read them both stories and tuck them both in all by yourself.

So you decide to stop at COSTCO after picking them up! I mean, why the hell not. You just LOVE headaches, right?!

It really does go very well, however, the constant need to stay patient and answer questions calmly and not, you know, LOSE IT when your son tries to hook up the chain that closes off the cashier line for the 4th time really starts to make that needley pain in your temples start to throb and those tarty school ma’rm shoes stop being so swanky and start to just really be painful and finally you’re in the car and you’re heading home annd really it is a miracle that you haven’t raised your voice in a shrill sireny lash at the kids yet..

So what do you do, when finally you manage to get the groceries out from the car, at least the perishable ones, and the kleenex, which is the reason why you just HAD to go there in the first place, because everyone’s noses are always running and nary a soft tissue in sight, and you even managed to remember to get a certain someone onto the potty before the flood gates loose and there’s a whole other situation to deal with and where was I again? Oh yeah, what do you do when you try to slap some peanut butter and jam on bread while getting the milk and eggs put away and your daughter steals away your very last reserve of patience by opening up the mongo package of kleenex and scattering all the boxes hither and yon in your kitchen, YOUR KITCHEN, the very kitchen where you are JUST TRYING TO GET SOME FOOD TOGETHER FOR PETE’S SAKE!!!!

WHAT DO YOU DO???

You take a deep breath, reach deep inside for inner strength and enthuse wildly, “JUST LOOK at all those boxes! Why don’t you make A TOWER!!”

Jocelyn: I am the queen of all things towery.
Ethan: I must hide behind my tower of invisibility so you cannot see me.

Jocelyn and Ethan had the best time building towers, kicking them over, and then picking up as many boxes in a tower as they could while exclaiming, “I’M GUS-GUS!!”*

Sometimes I really do deserve a mother of the year award.

* You know, gus-gus, from cinderella, he stacks the kernels of corn up to his chin and then they all go flying everywhere and the cat Lucifee is slowly stalking him down… Yeah. Gus-Gus.

– amy is lying, kind of, because all this happened a week or so ago, but she just got around to typing it up now.

Screen shot from google calendar.

Tonight and tomorrow is the big day for Andrew, Tamara and Adora. Good luck! We’ll be thinking of you, and we can’t wait to meet the little wee lady!

James and I saw it last Friday night.

Loved it.

Wish I hadn’t read any summary/synopsis of the movie.. it ruined it a little bit for me. The summary always stated something about the girl’s imaginary world, but I think it could have been viewed as “real” events, and I would have done so, if I hadn’t read those and been predisposed to thinking “this is all in her head.”

Other complaint.. “EL LABERINTO DEL FAUNO”

Does anyone else see a mention of “Pan” in there? This obviously says, “The Faun’s Labyrinth” .. and there was no mention of Pan anywhere else in the movie that I could see. The faun was never named as Pan. Isn’t Pan a pretty important mythical character? Am I wrong to feel like I was mislead by the “Pan” in the title? THERE WAS NO PAN! DON’T TRY TO FOOL ME WITH THAT TITLE!

Anyway. For some reason I feel kind of righteously indignant about this translated title.

Oh, but the movie was beautiful. It appealed to the fairy tale lover in me. It felt right, and it was not just the icing of a fairy tale that happens in so many versions. It had real horror and life and death situations (which real fairy tales have), which was mirrored in the physical (“real”) world going on around the girl. It did not leave the taste of sacharin in one’s mouth, as so many modern/updated fairy tales do.

Highly recommended. Hope it wins all the awards it was nominated for.