Saturday, February 21, 2009

Somehow I knew exactly what it meant

The Mighty Hunter hates texting. He has a Blackberry, which I hate. Dozens of tiny little buttons. Stupid scrolly button. Stupid not-a-real-browser.

I miss my iPhone. It had good-sized buttons. It had a real browser. It made sense.

Alas, the realities of paying your own cell phone bill.

What was I saying? I'm a little feverish today and have been a little out of my head and more forgetful than normal.

text from The Mighty Hunter...

Today I got a text from him. It consisted of some numbers, the word "gutter".

When he called, I knew what he wanted. I knew he was out reinspecting a claim and didn't have anything to write with or on.

I knew he wanted me to send the text back to him.

Yes, I explained to him that he could just look in his sent items. Yes, he admitted he didn't know where that was.

I explained that there were probably a few ways he could have made this note in his phone without pestering me in the middle of my fevers and unrest.

Yet, it made perfect sense that he would text me from Connecticut and ask me to help him keep up with some random information.

This is the same man who would call me from Backwoods, Alabama, to ask me a phone number.

Because I almost never forget a number.

Even when I have a fever.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Final Farewell

On a day like this, I feel it appropriate to say a few thank-you's and farewells.

I want to say thank you to The Mighty Hunter for going to work in Connecticut (or as his spellcheck corrected it: Coneticute). His absence will somehow make my departure less painful. All he will have to do is clean up the mess of tissues and cough drop wrappers.

I want to thank Beboo for starting all this. Without you, Lucky, Sissy and I wouldn't have caught SARS. I'll leave you with a request to help The Mighty Hunter clean up and care for my motherless children.

I want to thank Lucky and Sissy for coughing and snotting all over me. One day, you'll regret it. Probably when you realize your daddy has no idea how to brush little girl hair or pick out clothes that slightly match or coordinate or how to pull hair up into a semi-smooth ponytail (btw, Sissy, you should just prepare to cut all your hair off, it'll be much easier that way.) Lucky, you'll have an easier time of it.

I want to thank our pediatrician for accepting my 2 copays earlier this week to confirm that this is a VIRUS, without proven antiviral medications, and that it will "run its course in a few days." This will save another copay for myself and help me in choosing which pain medication to take.

I want to thank my bloggy friends for NOT making me sick. None of you are on my "you suck" list.

I will now click "PUBLISH POST" now and die.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Cutting off my nose to spite my Facebook

Do you remember when I wrote about my conflicts with reconnecting with those who used to be friends, In Real Life, via Facebook?

Well, I stayed in FB and became quite the addict. I absolutely enjoyed checking it often to see what IRL friends and bloggy friends were doing, Right Now. I loved seeing what they wrote in their 25 and 44 things and One Word and For The Moms. I loved seeing pictures of their life and adventures and families. The chat feature was probably the best I've ever messed with.

Then FB went and did this. They changed their Terms Of Use to claim "license" to anything and everything I ever posted (public and private), allowing them to reuse, reprint and recycle MY content for their purposes without any further consent from or compensation to me.

Not cool, Facebook. Not cool at all.

I posted the link to the article and wrote on my Wall about how upset I was. Through a bloggy friend (yo!) I was invited to join a protest group. I invited every single 80+ FB friend to join this group. Within a couple of hours, a status report said that 14 of those friends had already joined this group.

Late last night, while FB chatting with a friend from high school, I saw that FB had temporarily reversed their Terms Of Use to where they do not claim that license on my FB account and anything and everything I put up there.

I copied and pasted these new/old TOU and saved them within a document that had a screenshot of their reversal and apology.

Immediately, I removed every photo tag that referenced me. I deleted every single picture and video I had posted. I deleted all my personal information. I deactivated my account.

I can go overboard in protest, it's not a new realization. I don't watch John Travolta or Tom Cruise for similar reasons. Same for Dixie Chicks and Kanye West. (While they can worship and speak however they choose, I can spend my money and time however I choose also.)

So, today, I have gone into FB withdrawals.

I wonder if my friends will miss me.

I wonder if they even noticed my last post, telling them I was jumping ship.

I wonder if that post is still out there, telling FB exactly how I feel.

I wonder if my high school reunion will get planned without me. No, I won't be going. I just would like to contribute my opinions and attempt to ruin it for those FB friends who weren't real friends in real life. Not that I'd really try to sabotage their fun, but thinking about it is fun for me.


There's a very large man with very long, ugly, black hair and YELLOW EYESHADOW on Letterman singing with a very bad voice about a baby boy.

ADD much?


How much sleep should a mom, whose husband is back at work, in Connecticut, expect to get when both her kids are on prednisone?

Surprisingly, they're sleeping great. Me? Not so much.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I've found my calling

I think I could get a job for all the drug companies in the world making up names for their new medications.

I could certainly do as good as "abilify" for depression symptoms.

Or "extenz" for that manly product.

And who was resonsible for naming a PMS product "mydol". As dense as The Mighty Hunter is, he knows not to call me "my doll" during my grumpy days.

Here goes some rough drafts...

"Kutrjus" for vaginal dryness.

"Chopoffmyhed" for migraines.

"Nokrup" for infertility.

"Shutup" for tinitis.

"Nosnot" for allergies and runny-noses.

Anyone else want to join my business venture?

That was fast!

Wow! Alyson guessed right! (Do I know you Alyson? wondering what I might have blogged that would be incriminating that Alyson could use in blackmailing me.)
Blondie also guessed right.
I'll give each of you a design. Just email me for your coupon code: keris cards (at) g mail (dot) com (Remove the spaces and fix the "at" and "dot".)

Girl #1 was a good friend. I talk to her on Facebook a little.
#2 is me. Good grief at my hair. It was quite the hairspray and permed helmet.
#3 is Sissy's phys ed coach now. She does triathalons. I hate her. But only for her athleticism. She's a great person.
#4 was an exchange student from Germany. I don't know where she is now.
#5 one of those girls who was already a Lady. I wish I knew where she is now.
#6 is an attorney. I don't know if she still goes to the tanning salon everyday or not.
#7 was a very close friend. Again, I've lost contact with her.
#8 was head cheerleader and my arch-nemesis. She has 4 kids now and is in a nearby big town. I have contact with her via FB.
#9 was my equal in leading the band. (Yes, I was a band geek. I was drum major, aka head band geek.)
#10 If it's who I think it is, I don't know where she is.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Where's Waldo Keri?

I'm in this photograph. If you can find me, I will give you a very valuable prize.*

*Well, maybe not "very valuable". Probably not even a little bit "valuable." I'll give the correct guesser (is that a word?) a free card design from my Etsy shop. Heck, you may not want to even look at all that over-sprayed, over-teased, over-permed 1988 hair. Still, one of you will win a stinkin' old card design. This contest will continue until someone guesses right or the rapture; whichever comes first.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Please Mr. Custer, I don't wanna go!

We have our appointment with our new CPA tomorrow. The CPA we used until now will live forever on the list of people who treated us like wormdirt since we closed the business.

The new CPA doesn't have a high hurdle to leap. He only has to NOT be a jerk. But my experience with CPAs is worse than attorneys, and I'm not very optimistic.

We have no idea what to expect with our tax liability this year. It could be good. It could be earth-shatteringly bad.

We do know that Napoleon (the former business partner) has not repaid us a penny for the debts we have paid out of our pockets, taxes included. So Napoleon is Auburn Family Enemy #1.

I'd like to leave all this behind us soon. And have hope in the Lord that it will happen SOON. I do believe that the bankruptcy will finalize March 18.

Which reminds me that in 25 days, we will leave for Walt Disney World! squeeee!!! WDW's theme this year is "What will you celebrate?" It will be a silently-observed celebration, but we will celebrate the bankruptcy while we are there.

Is that crazy?

Probably, but I'm ok with crazy.


I've been pretty blank lately. (She explains, embarassed that she hasn't posted very much at all in a few weeks.) Not that there hasn't been things that I could post. Oh, there's definitely been drama; hre in our house and in the houses of our friends (Hey, M! Luvya!)

I suppose I could share with you some bargains I've scored... (She offers, even more embarassed than she was before.)

2 pairs of jeans for $15 each at our Goody's store (bankruptcy. all stores closing.)
battery for dvd-camera for $54 (regular $80) at Circuit City (ditto)
ADORABLE blue, pin-striped 3-pc suit (with shirt and tie) for Lucky for Easter $25 at Sam's.
Beautiful dress for Sissy for Easter $38 at Sam's.

My bargain hunting hasn't been that good, either.

Sorry. February's a good month, so far. It's just not good fodder for blogging.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Happy Valentine's Day from Me to YOU!!!

My gift to you is to share a recipe.

My Mom's Fudge

6 T butter
4 T milk
1 box powdered sugar, sifted
1/2 c cocoa
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 c pecans (optional, may substitute your favorite nut)

Line a small dish with wax paper and rub with butter. Set aside.

Using a double-boiler (or some similar contraption you create with two pans and boiling water,) melt butter. Add milk. Blend in sugar and cocoa. When completely blended and no lumps are left, add vanilla. Pour onto wax paper and spread and smooth. Sprinkle with pecans. Allow to cool.

Eat it all up.

Slip into coma.

Dream happy, rich, fudgy dreams.

You're welcome!

Learn from me and all my wisdom

Lesson One:
If you're late and want to start your period, go spend $20 on the "most advanced piece of technology you'll ever pee on".

Within an hour of getting the joyful "not pregnant" news, you will start bleeding, a la stuck hog.

Please do not try this at home. No animals were harmed in the making of this fool. I am professional idiot.

But I'm a very relieved idiot.


Wednesday, February 11, 2009


I'm late in the way that a mom with an 8 y-o daughter and a 2 y-o son and a husband that travels for work, 10 days out of 14, doesn't want to be late.

I'm not that late yet.

But that doesn't really matter, does it?

And anxiety breeds anxiety, doesn't it?


And, yes. This is about as much as I can produce in the way of a post lately. Yesterday's post was probably the most profound thought that occurred to me all day.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


Somedays there is just not enough chocolate to get me through without wanting to bang my head against the wall.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

Warm and fuzzy squishy

Last night, as I lay waiting for sleep to finally relieve my mind and body from the day's worries and weariness, I felt my belly. I was surprised how soft my skin is there. I gave myself a little pinchy-squeeze and thought about how squishy it is now. I wondered if it would ever be firm again. It has been firm most of my life.

For many years, I exercised and enjoyed having firm muscles in my stomach from that insanity. I don't know if I'll ever have firmness in m stomach like I did then. And that is ok.

When I was pregnant with Sissy, I thought I had never seen a harder stomach. This tummy was rounded and taut in a completely different way than it had ever been before. It was not flat and firm like it used to be, but very full and unbelievably large. There were strange and mysterious bulges that had the distinct feeling of toes trying to poke their way through their hiding place. Rounded, sometimes pointy bumps would glide from one spot to another. The large, roundness was often lop-sided. She clearly preferred lying on one side of my tummy more than the other. Which side she preferred, I forget. And just when it couldn't get any larger and I could no longer see my toes, Sissy was born, and the soft squishiness came.

I tried. to some degree. to exercise and get my tummy firm and flat again. I have to confess that any firmness or degree of flatness was the result of God's pity on me and not my vanity. I wasn't totally committed to the crunches anymore. I'd rather play with Sissy, and they just plain hurt. I tried to devote myself to recovering my flat tummy again. Billy Blanks and his back-in-the-day-of-VHS-tapes Tae Bo kicked my tail. It also kicked The Mighty Hunter's tail one night as I defended Sissy from some threatening strangers in my sleep. He wasn't terribly surprised when we put two and two together about his sore shins and ribs and my bad dream. Early in our marriage, I had elbowed my way through a crowd in my sleep, giving him very sore ribs for days afterward.

A few years later, we decided that it was time to grow our family - and my tummy again. Interestingly, it happened in April, just like with Sissy. Knowing that Sissy was a fairly large first baby, 8.5 lbs, I was prepared for another large baby and the stretched-taut tummy that carried it. I wasn't disappointed.

Sissy was amused with my growth. Everyday, she would "measure" me with a hug. Near the end of the pregnancy, she gave up tryiing to reach around me. I was just too big. When Lucky began to move and wiggle and kick and probe, she would hold her hand on top of the bulges, giggling with delight.

The Mighty Hunter never liked to feel either baby move. He can be quite a wussy. Yet, he would humor me, only to yank his hand away and shiver and shake and make me laugh at his wimpiness. He's the perfect example of how men can be weaker than their wives, yet totally still be dudes.

The day Lucky was born, was hard on my tummy. I was pretty sick: fainting and puking way too much for everyone's nerves. I had the nurses on their toes and my family on the edge of their chairs. The little nurse's aid, training to work on the labor and delivery floor, was sent in to massage my tummy, to help me complete my delivery. I was terribly sore. I had bled a lot and was very weak and not very cooperative with her efforts. She quit, and only one of us was crying - me. I simply couldn't stand to feel anyone touching my tummy at all. Why couldn't they have done this massage thing while I still had the epidural?

When I went back in the hospital a week later for a d&c due to "retained matter" (sorry, gross, I know), I wasn't surprised and knew that the off-the-scale sensitivity of my tummy after delivery had contributed to the situation. My post-partum contractions had intensified after weakening, and I was running a high fever. I was very sick. I have a great OB, who spoke to me from his home and told me to come on in, he'd take care of everything and not to worry and I'd get a really good nap the next morning and would be feeling much better in 48 hours. He was right. Poor thing, though. I had been contracting so much and so feverish, I was unshowered and sticky from sweat and probably very smelly. The Mighty Hunter stayed in my hospital room with Lucky and cried, scared of the dreaded General Anesthesia and its calculable risks of death and the prospect of raising a newborn and a 6 year-old alone. (Yes, he can spread the drama quite heavy sometimes.) It all went well, though, and after leaving recovery and returning to my room for an hour or so, we went home to sleep away the fear and worry.

(Why did I feel compelled to share that?)

So, now, two years later - 2 YEARS LATER! how can that be?? - I feel the squishiness of my tummy and love it. I love that when Lucky is very tired, he will pull my shirt-tail up and gently pinch my squishy belly-button. I love that when I look in the mirror, I look like a woman and not a girl who has never experienced the love and heartbreak and joy and abundance of pride that resulted from my once-firm, then-taut-and-round, now-squishy belly.

It's all good. Soft, squishy good.