Oops ...

And Stephanie had her baby yesterday morning.

The Joys of Doggie Motherhood

What are you eating? Why are you barking? Get inside right now. Stop digging in the mud. That's the same cat you've known since you were a baby. She smells the same as she did five minutes ago. Why are you looking at me like that? What are you eating? Stay off the counter. Off! Down! Stop barking, already. No, you can't go for a ride in the car. I can't afford to buy you Coldstone Creamery -- you're getting Baskin Robbins. What are you eating? No! Stop! Off! Down! Really! What ARE you eating??

But ... she is my baby. Even without responses to any of these questions -- even though she shows no remorse whatsoever over anything -- even though any training seems to have gone to waste -- I know she loves me, and that's about the best feeling in the world.

Wow

I know why I'm not getting a teaching job.

One word comes to mind. Let's just say it's the "C" word that most women hate. I have used it to describe only one person in the past. I am using it very loudly in my head (and once verbally -- sorry, Albina).

I had better stop, now because I have an overwhelming urge to type it.

Post Script

The first time Stephanie had a baby, I had given a MIG party at my apartment (I forget why, but who needed a reason?). Early that morning, I vacated the young man who had, let's say, shared my bed with me that night, because the phone was ringing. The person said, "Hey, Kristen. It's Jack." I repeated the name back and had terrible confusion as to why Jack Pfaffmann was calling me and how he knew that I had a MIG party. It took a good 30 seconds of foggy confoundness for me to sort out that it was Stephanie's husband telling me that they were at the hospital.

The second time Stephanie gave birth, I, quite coincidentally, was in bed with the same young man the night before I got a phone call from Jack.

A few days ago, I was running late coming home from DeKalb and I called home. My mom answered and told me Jack had called. I was quite excited about this and joked with my mother that I had only been teasing Stephanie when I told her it would be convenient for her to have the baby the next day. My mother was really confused by my excited rambling and said, "Kristen! Jack PFAFFMANN called."

How weird is this?

We're still waiting for Stephanie's new baby to make his appearance. I think the delay may be my fault. I have slept alone for a few months and that young man is damned near engaged to a young lady I hear is absolutely wonderful. It reminds me, though, that I need to call him to say "hi."

Shopping

Mom wanted to go to TJ Maxx and More. This is in Lisle. So, we stop, first, at Doug's house and we hang up the wreath that Mom bought for him. This was, like anything else I ever do with her, an ordeal. She had bought some pretty, silver hooks. These were supposed to hang on any surface. It would not, of course, hang on Doug's door. I'm smart. I had an over-the-door hanger in one of my totes in Doug's garage. I knew EXACTLY where it was -- which is funny, because I have no idea what is there.

Then we went to Joe's house. The hook worked on Joe's door because it is a glass storm door. But it didn't seem to work very well. We left it there and decided to check on it later. We also discovered that the wreaths came with a big jingle bell buried in the bottom of the box. We hooked it on and went on our way.

So off to TJ Maxx and More. Mom, though, heads down Wolf Road. I argued with her and even though I had never been there, I said it was the wrong way to get there. I call Dad and explain that she wants to go "Wolf Road to 30 and turn left on that one road down the hill like we used to go to swim meets." Um-hmm. I told her that "the one road down the hill" was 75th street. When I made her turn left on Douglas Road, she started yelling at me that I was wrong and she'd show me. I told her I wasn't. She was quite angry and told me that when she proved that she was right, she would punch me in the face and knock all of my teeth down my throat.

Yeah. I knew this was an empty threat and I also knew that she was wrong so I wasn't worried. A little later as we drove "down the hill like we used to go to swim meets," I got an apology (and Moose Munch -- don't ask).

We forgot to stop by Joe's to make sure the wreath was still up. Dad and I checked and it was solid on there. It's all good. Doug, in the meantime, found his wreath and called to thank us. I explained where the bell was while we were on the phone. He kept yelling that every time he opened the door, Amber would come running and jump on the door. This was dumb. He didn't need to open the door to put the bell on properly. Dad and I ran by there and I fixed Doug's fargin' bell. MEN!

I got the rest of a certain friend's Christmas gift in the mail, today. I am very excited because in addition to the two pieces of merchandise that I ordered, I got 3 extra pieces that are very nice to add to the gift. Total bonus. Almost makes up for the fact that the shipping cost me twice as much as what I ordered -- and that was UPS ground.

I'm done with my Rhetoric class. I have a final exam in Morphology on Monday. I'm not looking forward to it at all. I have to go out early to talk to Bonnie about the "proposal" for my Independent Reading class.

I subbed at Plainfield, again, yesterday. I subbed at Thompson Jr. High on Wednesday -- interesting note, my high school Algebra teacher was also subbing there (purportedly to earn money to pay for his daughter's divorce lawyer). I have a story about this which I will not share because I think it would really bother that teacher that I remember such a horrible outburst. It doesn't bother me at all (and really didn't bother me much, then), but I know it would bother him. Let's just suffice it to say I was a little shit in high school and I think I deserved it.

I really want a job at Plainfield North.

Check, please!

A student loan check, that is. Also, not having to WRITE a check to the CHIPS program (comprehensive health insurance through the State of Illinois) for around $400 a month.

Yeah, I give up. I am taking classes next semester. I think I'll be quitting the BP, soon. I have to work Wednesday night (I think Wednesday, anyway). They only scheduled me for 6 hours this week. Not worth it! I just hate the damned job.

So, back to school. I got a cool schedule, though. I have an on-line course for which I only have to meet at the Naperville campus 3 times all term (it's a topic course and, frankly, I really don't care, but it's on law and business in literature -- I'm betting Bleak House or Martin Chuzzlewit will show up). I have an independent reading for which I never have to come to campus (thank you, Dr. Giles -- I love him! Steinbeck it is. Yeah!). And I have a methods course in English as a Second Language being taught through NIU at the fargin' WCC campus! YEAH!!! So, once a week I have to go to Sugar Grove, three times in the next semester, I have to go to Naperville, and I'll need a little library time to write what I assume will be a 20-page paper on something Steinbeck for Dr. Giles. I won't cheat. I really will write a fresh paper and read something other than East of Eden.

Yeah. I'm so obnoxious. I will probably die long before my student loans are paid in full. Whatever. I asked my parents what they thought about me going to law school. They, like me, figure I'll die long before I have to pay this stuff off. Without any kind of an estate, well, can't get blood out of a turnip!

[DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO INTENTION WHATSOEVER OF GOING TO LAW SCHOOL ...yet...]

Weird Dreams

First, I had this post all thought out in my head. It was clever, concise, pithy ... and then Blogger made me switch to Beta which, basically, cost me a lot of time. Thus, I forgot, really, what I wanted to say.

I had weird dreams. Although I never saw it, I know there was a musical driven by ABBA songs. It seemed really cool to me because I grew up with, literally, ABBA. So I guess I must have had this in my head at some point last night. I had a dream about a former friend of mine having a musical based upon his life that was completely driven by music he wrote. It was really goofy.

I woke up with a song in my head that I have never associated with that person. Maybe the whole thing was an Avonex-driven delusion ... or it was, in fact, just a weird dream.

Lia's ear infection seems to be getting better. I knew it must have been really bad because whenever I would tell her, "Mama going to fix the ears" she would run and sit in front of me. She let me put the drops in. She has always been very difficult, before, when it came to putting drops in her ears. I think she was in a lot of pain. I am not running this vet bill by VPI because I am worried that they will consider this an exempt condition -- she had an ear infection before I got VPI. Veterinary Pet Insurance, by the way, is about the coolest thing ever. For around $20 a month, I have the peace of mind that I will be able to afford to take my dog to the vet if she's sick. Swimmer's Tail -- the oddest condition I've ever heard of -- sent us to the emergency vet in the middle of the night. That bill was around $300. VPI paid me back around $250-ish of the bill. I had only been with them about 4 months at that point. What a darned relief. And let us not forget the "I ate goofy plants that Gramma thought were cool" episode. X-Rays and what not cost me well over $100. I'll be getting a check for that this week for at least $80.

I hate that I have to work another demeaning job in order to support myself. I mean, dammit! I have a fargin' Masters! I was pretty sore after my most recent shift. But at least all I had to really do (other than ring on the register) was to spend about 1 1/2 hours in the cooler stocking beer/pop. All good ... really. I calculated the number of time I have to work there. 9 months-ish -- 4 x 9 is 36 weeks. 36 weeks x 2 shifts per week is 72 shifts. I've already worked 6, so only 66 more shifts to go. And I get health insurance at only 10 hours per week. Yeah! This reminds me that I have to run up there and check my schedule for this week. \

Lia is sleeping in her crate. It always amazes me how much she likes her crate. It's like "safe zone" to her. She decides when to go in and when to come out. Let's say, though, that she's been upstairs at "the buffet" (I won't translate that for those of you to whom I haven't complained about the disgusting habit). If I catch her, I yell at her and tell her, "That's naughty. You go downstairs and get in the crate." For some reason, she knows that this time is a punishment and she will wait until I tell her, "okay" before she comes out. Go figure.

Whew. I'm really tired. I sub during the week almost every day. I work one night per week at the gas station. I have school two nights a week. I judge Speech meets on Saturday and work at the gas station on Sunday. I only get a day off if I turn down a sub job on Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday AND happen to not work at the gas station that evening. Shit. I got tired just typing that.

Gotta go sleep, now.