Alas the weekend has come to an end and I can share the Hand, Foot and Mouth information. Though I've decided against waxing on and on about our personal experience, I will say that, luckily, Ryder had a very mild case. I can't wait until we come home with head lice. I'm sure that's in the future eventually.


By the way, did you know we had sunshine yesterday for the first time in 10 days or so? It was glorious, and I can't much complain today either. It's 61 degrees and mostly sunny. How easily my mood is affected by the weather.


I swear I almost had a panic attack last night when I went to take out my contact lenses, which I had been wearing all day, and they wouldn't budge. Flashback to 14 hours earlier, when I put those suckers in and knew, *knew*, that that pair had seen better days. I eventually got the lens out without too much damage to my eyeball. The point being that 1) I nearly had a panic attack and 2) I've been considering lasik for awhile, and this incident re-affirmed my need to look into it.


I think that's all for now. I have no main idea; I am a real-life diary entry.

I've been so positive for like, nearly eight weeks, but I had PMS like a mutha earlier this week, along with some sort of crappy crud, and I got a little negative. I'm still doing fairly well though, but yeah, some negativity. And it's OK.


How come some people have black eyebrows when they don't have black hair? I mean, they have naturally light or blonde hair and black eyebrows. How come they aren't the same color as their hair? Mine are the same color as my natural hair color, and everyone should be like me.


Note: If you have blonde hair and black eyebrows and I like you, just know the contrast looks good on you.


This one girl, I want to ask exactly when she went blonde, but I am scared she'll de-friend me on myspace. Actually, we're not myspace friends, but you know it's the whole extended network. EVERYONE is in it, like T said. And don't even ask what I'm doing on there, other than reading T.


Be sure to check in next week when I tell all on Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. And on dealing with it while PMS'ing and crappy-cruddy'ing. Your weekend will be excruciatingly long as you anticipate learning more on this common childhood illness.


And don't you dare stalk me at Albertson's Saturday night. The grocery is not the proper place to discuss these matters, not to mention that stalking is a crime.

It was a Saturday evening. I had just finished dinner out with my family, and the three of us stopped at the grocery store before heading home. It was cold; not many folks were at the grocery store. And there I was, pushing Ryder around in the cart; trying to keep him from wiggling out because the strap wasn't long enough to go all the way around him while wearing his big winter coat. He was laughing, and we were determining which flavor of Yo, Baby! yogurt to purchase, and I caught myself in the moment.


I didn't care what day it was, what time it was, when we needed to be home to get things done before bed. My mind wasn't on anything other than what I was doing, which was having a really good time making my kid laugh in the dairy aisle at Albertson's ... on a Saturday night.

Which describe your perception of me?


OK, I'm going to do this. And you, shoot it straight if you participate, and please participate so I don't feel all unloved. Or at least tell me I'm unloved by participating. Or whatever.


TGIF.

Random randomness on a random day at a random time.


I've had thoughts, some things I've wanted to post here, but I've been busy, and I'm not eloquent, and my brain hurts. Because, people. Because I've been working for a living, as a particular past acquaintance of mine used to say. (He may have copyrighted the statement or maybe it was already trademarked by Huey Lewis. Ba-dah-dum.)


On Valentine's, in the middle of my workday afternoon, my OB/GYN nurse calls. Seems the mail order pharmacy would be happy to refill my birth control pills but before doing so, the pharmacist just wanted to make sure my doctor was aware that a particular medication I take regularly has the potential to interfere with the efficacy of my oral contraception. Um, news to me. And news to my doctor that my other doctor, the special kind that not everyone has to see, put me on this medication awhile back. The magic cocktail that's been working so well.


So the nurse calls and asks me if I'm taking this other medication, and I'm all, "yes," and she's all, "well, then you probably need to find an alternate form of birth control ... I'll mail you some information," (etc., I'll spare you the details). We have this conversation on VALENTINE'S. AT WORK. And you better believe I was at Target the next day getting a test that I'm sure didn't work because it's too early for me to take the thing. But I took it anyway. It was negative.


Not that it would be terrible, but the timing right now is ALL WRONG. At the same time, I've been (and this is NUTS for me) all "Jesus Take the Wheel" lately. You know what I mean. I don't know why it makes me uncomfortable, or why I have to make fun of myself in order to admit it, but what I'm trying to say is that lately I've been stressing less, letting go, and knowing that what's meant to be will be and that it all fits into a highly organized plan of which I am not the master.


People, if Cookie can fall in love, I can develop enough faith to admit to having some on the Internet. Sure, I may have to mock myself slightly in order to do so.


OK, I think that's enough to throw at you at 5:30 p.m. on a Thursday.

Because it's funny.

Because I stole it from ~A genius and then pasted it into an email and sent it to some of you.

Because I'm tapped out and mush-brained.

And because it's Valentine's Day and I feel obligated to post something.


Happy Valentimes Day. I hope you get to witness something as joyful as my kid eating heart-shaped sugar cookies with holiday sprinkles.

I want to draw a smile on your face with Magic Marker.

Too much going on ...


My Dad was over Friday, having just returned from Panama, I shit you not. We had this marvelous idea to take the dogs and the boy to the lake for pictures on a way-too-windy Saturday, which proved to be a rather ridiculous idea. And Sunday, we went to church and did some Superbowl watching. And by Superbowl watching, I mean everyone watching the Superbowl and me trying to keep Ryder from sticking his hand directly in the Ranch dip, from hoarding all of our host's remote controls and from pulling things out of the trash can.


It was a busy weekend.

This morning, as I was deciding between selection C2 and D3 at the vending machine, I realized that I've been in a really good mood lately. I believe in the power of the prescription, and my doctor has finally got me on the right cocktail. (I'm sure I've said this before; I repeat things like an old lady.) It's working and I now have more good days than bad ones. I also know this has to do with other things I'm doing, beyond just properly taking my prescriptions.


I do, however, still have bad days. And there will always be things happening around me that are displeasing and disappointing, but I don't seem to react to them in ways I did before. I respond more, react less -- if that makes sense.


While selection D3 was heating in the toaster, I ran to the ladies room and noticed I'm having the eighth or so good hair day in a row. Little things like that make me happy, though I'm well aware that it's a bad idea to rely on outside things to do that. (Yeah, yeah, I've learned that already, though let's exclude the drugs -- must keep those, doctor's orders!)


But still, the good hair again, the sash/belt thing I bought at Target in just the right shade of coral that perfectly matches the flowers in my velvet green turtleneck -- well, I'll have to say I'm feeling downright sassy. Ain't nothing wrong with that.