Do You Know Who I Am?

Okay. Not Reese Witherspoon.

But I am apparently overly cautious about my stuff.

Last night there was controversy as Jeremiah requested to hear stories about my childhood - I told him how my brother destroyed all my toys. We all know this is true, people. Let's not deny it. And then Jeremiah said, "Well, maybe that's why you are always telling me to be careful with your stuff."

Dead silence.

Me: What?
J: Hmm? Feigns deafness. Starts rubbing my arm.
Me: What did you just say?
J: Well, it's just, sometimes you warn me an awful lot about being careful with your stuff."
Me: No.
J: Yes.
Me: Noooooooo! I am getting better at this! I have been trying, really trying. When's the last time I asked you to be careful with something of mine?
J: The last time I drove your car. And every time before that.
Me: Oh, okay. Well if you ever get a brand new top of the line car why don't you let me drive it with a blindfold over one eye (because he is completely blind in one eye), shaking my head up and down (has shaky vision in the other), and fly down a Phoenix highway. Let's see if you don't scream like a girl at me to slow the hell down and to be careful with your stuff.
J: I can't believe you brought my...disability into this.
Me: No response. Too busy laughing and reenacting the driving.

Have a great weekend, Friends.

p.s. He really is not a bad driver.

Craptacular Day.

Let me tell you why today is sort of sucky.

1. My neighbor decided last night to leave his dog out. Barking nonstop. At about three. I am pretty sure I saw Jeremiah cry and throw a mini-tantrum as he called animal control. The situation was pretty bad. It lasted about an hour. Houses here are so close together that for the first few minutes of barking hell I actually thought the dog was IN THE BEDROOM. I was all, "What the effff? Did we get a new dog?"

2. I keep getting all these emails. And they are HILARIOUSLY degrading and condescending and passive aggressive. Hilarious in the sense that if I did not laugh, I would cry. I really wish I could share them with you all, because you seem like the type of people that could appreciate emails like that. But you know, ethics. Maybe I will forward them to myself so in the future I can look back and say, "Wow. That sucked."

3. I pulled a butt muscle while working out last night and it is slightly awkward walking around, rubbing my butt. Typically at work, other people are touching my butt. Naughty teachers.

4. I can't stop thinking of the emails. Maybe I just tell you about one of the situations? It makes me giggle just thinking about it. I'll get back to you.

5. I have been having horrible dreams. Three times within the last month I have dreamed of tornadoes. It is crazy, but my main concern is for the safety of my dogs and cats. Jeremiah can apparently take care of himself. Anyone who can analyze dreams for me, go right ahead. I am thinking the tornado signifies the disarray and chaos in my life right now. I also had a nightmare about my brother and ended up texting him and schooling him and then I was like, "Shit. That was a mom thing to do." Not very little sister-y of me.

6. I don't have a sixth thing, but I don't like odd numbers.

Ding-a-Lings & More

First of all, the principal and assistant principal thought my email about the guillotine was hilarious. Not the point, but happy that I could do that for them. They forwarded the email to some guys that apparently know shit about ceiling noises and one of them came out and he could not figure it out so he sent his BFF out to look at it and he was like, "How long have you been hearing these noises?" I told him that I'd been hearing them since I moved in the room. He asked why I did not tell anyone. My response was "I thought it was just me."

Then I realized that made me sound a little crazy and I tried to cover for myself by laughing hysterically. Smooth, Emily.

Anyway, he told me that the loud noises were actually TOILET PIPES. Every time someone flushes, I know it. It is a little disgusting. Now every few seconds I am thinking about how someone is using the bathroom. He promised to see what he could do.

Speaking of falling into my mini-fridge (see how smoothly I transitioned there?), I think I know why I fell. Saturday I woke up with a horrible pain behind my right ear and ended up at Urgent Care. With an actual fever. The horrible doctor told me that I had fluid in both ears. I am thinking that ear fluid probably screws with the equilibrium, you know? So bad sinus infection. And ding-a-ling number one, because she really was an idiot.

Our next stop was the pharmacy, because she gave me a crap-ton of scripts. Let me tell you about my pharmacy. It is filled to the brim with elderly. There is an entire aisle dedicated to adult diapers. I am the youngest person to shop there by about thirty years. This will be important in the story. Sort of.

I stood there with my new prescriptions and my thermometer that I had to purchase in order to monitor my fever, and things then went downhill. The girl at the counter asked with a curled lip if I had a fever. No, honey. I always sweat like this when I am immobile.  Ding-a-ling number two, for making me feel bad about being sick.


I figured that while I was there, I would pick up a prescription that my Snuffy's Disease doctor had called in earlier in the week. One was to be mailed to me, one was to be picked up. Except that the one that was to be mailed he sent to the pharmacy, and the one that was supposed to be at the pharmacy was not there.

At my wit's end, I said of my doctor "He is SUCH a ding-a-ling!". The two hundred year old woman waiting in the endless line behind me steps up and starts rubbing my shoulder. "Honey?" She says to me, "They ALL are."

The end.

P.S. I had a "reaction" to the meds the doctor prescribed and spent the whole night wide awake filled with paranoia and a heart that I was sure was going to jump out of my chest. Like, I actually thought it was going to hop out. Jump across the floor. As my brother would say, I was nuttier than squirrel shit. The next morning I read the warnings on the scripts and they said if you were already a little crazy, you should not take these meds. And now I sit here wondering just how nutty I actually am.

P.P.S. I did not take those meds again, in case you were wondering. I decided to tough out the horrible pain without painkillers and the doctor phoned in a different antibiotic. I am feeling like myself (which according to the warnings, is only slightly sane) and waiting for the pain and sickies to go away. Send happy healthy thoughts my way, please.

Holy.Crap.

Yesterday when I walked out of the bathroom my skirt was tucked into my undies.

Seriously?

What the hell is wrong with me?

So confess. Most embarrassing moment. I've had two within one week. Getting stuck in my mini-fridge and having my ass hang out (for just a brief moment). Someone tell a story so I can feel a bit better about myself.

I Consider It a Good Day.

Last night after making the dinner almost entirely by myself (I do not mind doing this, I am just pointing it out), I refused to make dessert.

Jeremiah's sole option was Rice Krispie Treats.

I walked him through the steps and then left him to fend for himself in the kitchen.

As I am relaxing in the living room, I hear him mutter "I am not as good at this step as I thought I would be." I look in the kitchen and he is putting the cereal/marshmallow mixture onto a cookie sheet.

How can you screw up Rice Krispie treats? How can you not be good at that? Emptying a pot onto a flat surface? And also, how exactly would you excel at it? It's a fairly simple and straight forward process. I am guessing there is not too much of a learning curve going on here. You can either tip a pot over or you can't.

I laughed at him.

Today I did not get threatened by any students. I consider it a fantastic day.

Oh, and Friends? So much has been happening at the house. Shelves are up, bookshelves are painted, rugs are cleaned...I just have not had much luck with computers/computer memory/uploading shit onto the computers. So that's why you have not seen the progress of my happy place.

Also, I have company coming! My brother will be here in a week or so and I have two very dear college friends coming in October. I think I am winning the popularity contest. It used to be everyone visited Jeremiah. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

 I am excited because one of them is bringing her two babies, so technically I have FOUR visitors at ONE time! Plus, last time I got to hold her baby and I was all, "Jeremiah, this is how I would look if we had a baby and I held it. Except that this baby is cute and ours would probably look like a baby elephant." 

Why, Kristen Stewart, Why?

Just a couple of random thoughts floating around today.

First, Kristen Stewart, this is for you. Why do you always look like you are in pain? In every single Twilight movie your mouth is hanging open a little bit. You are either A) Hurt or B)Trying not to smell a fart so you are breathing through your mouth instead of your nose. I get that. I teach little kids. I do the mouth breathing sometimes. But I am guessing that Robert P. smells divine, so close your mouth. And also? The movies are so bad that they pain me, Kristen. They really do. But it's like a car crash, I have to watch them all. And as I am a horrible girlfriend that apparently makes everyone feel sorry for Jeremiah, he ends up watching them, too. I don't make him, I promise. He just likes to laugh. And then I have to tell him to shut up because I can't hear you mouth breathe and mumble while he's laughing. Okay, Kristen, I am done. Oh, just kidding. You are looking much more beautiful in the Breaking Dawn P. 1 than in your previous films. I just wanted you to know that. Kudos to you.

Friends, yesterday was so craptastic I can't even stand it. I started out the day by dancing a jig, which is saying something when you wake up at 4:00 and then again for realsies at 4:45 every single day and then start teaching at 7:20 instead of 8:00 every single day. So the jig was special. I jinxed the day with my effing jig. Stupid jig. And the thing is, most of the crappy stuff didn't even happen to me. It happened to my students. And I love my students, so this breaks my heart.

Plus, I *almost* hurt someone at work yesterday and I think that is frowned upon. Like, I don't think I am allowed to punch someone in the throat. Totally inappropriate behavior/words coming from an adult that should know better. Shame on you. 

To top it off, the lice are rampant at school. I am now sure that I have lice. 99.9% sure. I can feel them every single second. Moving around. I dream of them in my hair. I wake up terrified. This is part of OCD, Friends. And it sucks. If I had had the energy yesterday, I would have told Jeremiah to do a check. But at this point, with me being certain of the lice (that in my head I know probably aren't really there), I don't want to check and find out that they are there for suresies. For now the lice and I co-exist. As they attack my scalp. But the nasty thing is, even if I did have Jeremiah check, he'd have to check again. I will be having him do regular checks until my mind finds something about which it can obsess.

It is times like these when I wish I was a drinker, but I am not. So I cannot say, "Boy, I will go home and have a nice glass of wine." because I won't. I can't even say, "Boy, I am going to go home and have some gummy eggs." because I ate the bag Jeremiah gave me for our anniversary and he won't tell me where he hid the other bags and they are ALL OUT at the World Market. So really I am without an outlet.

Any suggestions?

P.S. I would like Jeremiah to learn how to make a proper mixed drink, but that seems to be a no-go. Plus, he isn't allowed to use the blender.

Don't Get Too Excited, Jeremiah.

Dear Friends,
I am in not such a stabby place today. I am still grouchy (this according to Jeremiah, who probably would not have been surprised if my head did a full rotation a la Linda Blair) and still sick and confused, but today when I woke up I could BREATHE a little. Which was AWESOME.

So here is a true story for you.

The other night I got a little...claustrophobic is a good word. I got claustrophobic. The whole troop headed upstairs at once. That's SIXTEEN little legs, four little mouths, and lots and lots of fur. Plus the dogs and cats. Just kidding. Plus the Jer-ster and me.

And I needed a breather. So I went to the guest room, which is where I go for a breather. I would go to the craft room, but it is currently painted and empty. IT IS WAITING FOR JEREMIAH TO PAINT THE CEILING.

Not yet. Sadsies.

He says that he is waiting until I am healthy before he paints the ceiling. He wants me to be healthy so I can nag and tell him what he is doing incorrectly (his words).

And I agree. I need to be in my top-form in order to supervisor Jeremiah as he paints my ceiling.

Moving on...

And it was so cozy. And Mel and I swapped stories. She licked me a little. She stared. She laid down on the nightstand. I watched. I listened to random sounds. Relaxing. Sigh.

Next thing I know Jeremiah comes RACING into the room. I almost thought he was sleepwalking (there have been incidences for both of us, yes). He didn't get too into details, but I'm pretty sure he thought I WAS DEAD.

I am on new meds that (can) have some risky side-effects (Mostly if you are an alcoholic. I am not. At all. Unless having two drinks a year constitutes an alcoholic.), but I wasn't expecting an out of breath boyfriend clad in skeleton undies rushing the guest room. It ruined the relaxing breather.

So I don't know if I should be worried or relieved. I'm going to go with relieved. He looked concerned, which is good.

Good to know he's on top of it.


P.S. Blogger has been acting weird, yo. I am not sure what is going on here. It did not publish a post when it was supposed to do so. It also would not let me comment on my own post. So bear with me. (Or bare with me. But that might be awkward.)

P.P.S. I am going to pretend that is why you are not commenting.

Pirates

What post could possibly go wrong when it is entitled "Pirates"? No post is the answer. Pirates are a fantastic blog topic.

After all the horrible things that happened with the cruise ship nearly Italy - which is super scary and very sad - a friend of mine has decided that she is anti-cruise. Which bums me. If you remember, a cruise is on my list. And Jeremiah doesn't want to go on a cruise, either. Especially after he saw the pictures of the cruise ship turned 90 degrees in the waters off of Italy. Bah. Jeremiah is NOT a water baby. And apparently he is not into current events because he did not even know about this until I told him. I should not have told him. Now he definitely will not go.

So my cruise won't be a romantic one.

And it probably won't be a girls' trip. None of my friends (including newly anti-cruise ship friend) have ever  mentioned cruisin' it up, so I'm guessing? No.
Poop.

So then while talking with my anti-cruise friend I became defiant about no one wanting to cruise with me. "I do not care. I may go on a cruise by myself." I said haughtily. My anti-cruise friend explained that people mysteriously disappear on cruises.

Hmmm... To be honest, this threw me. But only for a second, and not literally. My comeback was quick and I spoke triumphantly - "Okay, so I will NOT travel alone, after all. I will travel with at least one person and I will not trust that person with my life so I will call someone who is landlocked every single hour and let them know what is happening. That way, if I do not call, they know that something is wrong and they can alert the proper authorities. You know, in case Jeremiah pushes me overboard or something."


My friend countered with the fact that "There are REAL pirates, you know."

Well, crap.


"Let me tell you this, anti-cruise friend. If I ever come across a pirate that has hopped aboard the ship, he can have my money but first I will ask to see his parrot. And he better have an eye patch. And I should see signs of a peg leg. And he should be drunk. Then he can have my money. But not without those things. Those are my non-negotiables. No patch, peg, or parrot? No money."

Here is an example of a (partially) acceptable pirate:

I think the fact that Jeremiah is ACTUALLY blind in one eye gives a certain amount of authenticity to the photograph, don't you? 

My friend looks at me.

Shakes her head.

"Yeah...Emily? You're going to be the first one shot."

So in a way, I win!

...Right?

Highs (and Lows) Continued...

Because I Forgot Some Crap.


Forgotten Thing 1: I dressed up as a ghetto fabulous gangsta for an assembly this week and danced in front of half the school. My ensemble was complete with an over-sized jersey, a huge crown, a goblet (not a GOBLIN, although that would be SWEET if David Bowie showed up in stretchy pants), a gold cane with REAL (fake) diamonds, lots of rings, and fancy diamond shades. I laughed the whole time. At one point, I nearly peed my pants when a coworker bent down while wearing a viking helmet and I leaned over and nearly had an eye poked out by her giant horn. I almost peed when I TOLD her that her giant horn almost poked my eye out.

Thing 2: After, my students were all like, "That was TIGHT! You were TIGHT!" Which is fun. Because honestly, if I took those skillz out in public, I'd be booed. And people would throw things. And then they would take my plastic gold cane and break it.

Thing 3: After working 12 hours on Thursday I was driving home in the dark and the idiot behind me in a huge SUV was driving with his high beams AND his fog lights (with one fog light out which is actually what drove me carazy - get it? CAR azy?). Anyway, I have fog lights and only use them when it is foggy, which is almost NEVER here. But that night I decided to try them out and HOLY CRAP I could actually SEE! The headlights on old red aren't super bright but those foggers sure are. So now the fog lights might be non-negotiables, too.  But I promise I won't use them with the high beams.

Highs (and Lows) of the Week

I'm almost done with my thesis. ALMOST. I'm so excited. I'd like a weekend where I can actually DO things, instead of sitting with piles and piles of research and my laptop. I bet you're excited to not have to listen to me yammer on about it, too...

Anyway, a quick review of the week. Because I need a break.

1. Jeremiah rode his bike for forty miles. In a row. I told him I probably would have gotten the runs after mile 25. 
2. Immediately upon returning, Jeremiah came down with something. The man that never gets sick is FINALLY sick. I guess coughing on his toothbrush actually works. Go me.
3. While readying myself for the day in the bathroom, I noticed that Maddie was chewing on Jeremiah's toothbrush's bristles. And then she carried it (in her mouth) to the floor and batted it around a little. I made a mental note to tell Jeremiah and in my stress, immediately forgot. Then I put the toothbrush back.
4. (Do you know where this is going?) That night, while Jeremiah is brushing his teeth, I'm all, "I think I wanted to tell you something...but I forget what it was..."
5. Afterwards, I was all, "Oh, yeah...the cat's been chewing on your toothbrush. I put it back. You're welcome."
6. I might have remembered earlier but I think I was cranky about something so I let him brush anyway. 
7. I worked twelve hours yesterday. 
8. Today I didn't brush my hair AT ALL. I put it in a fashionably messy up-do. This is what happens when you make your teachers work twelve hours.
9. I got bangs. (That could almost be a really inappropriate sentence.) When I went in for a cut she added bangs for some interest in the front. I'm liking them. 
10. I'm still playing games with the car people. Jeremiah said I'm good at playing mind games.
11. Jeremiah's response on number 10 might be the reason for number 6. 
12. I AM good at games and I LOVE to win, so I'm still looking for cars. And playing games. Last week I got some reams of paper out of the Subaru dealership. I told them teachers buy their own paper at my school (which is true) and they gave me paper.
13. They did not, however, give me a car. Sadsies.
14. I've learned that heated seats are a non-negotiable for me. Who knew? I might be spoiled in my fifteen year old car. 
15. I'm really proud of my students. More details on this later.

 So...review your week. Any highlights? I know that Ohio Emily had a baby! Congratulations!
Wait. Can any of us really top that?

Big Brother or The Price of Nuts

For those who were unaware, my brother became my first official house guest! Am I surprised? Yes. Never in a million years would have guessed it. But we had fun watching Teen Wolf and eating frozen yogurt. He stayed for a week and it flew by.

Spike thought he was in heaven. First of all, he was raised by a man and his son, so he automatically flocks to guys. He got to ignore me even more than usual, so he was psyched. Adam threw the ball for him all day, which he loved. They're besties.

Ball.All.Day.

After we picked up my brother from the airport, we sat around talking for awhile. After, I asked Jeremiah what he thought of my brother. He laughed.
Conversation 1:
J: He's nice.
E:But?
J:But nothing. He's nice. I like him.
E:But?
J:Well, it's not easy following a conversation with the two of you.
E:Baffled What do you mean?
J:You're kind of all over the place.
E:Indignant exhale at this point, but I'm not sure how it would look spelled out here. What are you talking about?
J:Okay. So what did you two discuss while we were downstairs?
E: Hawaii.
J:And?
E: Which parent we look like.
J:And?
E: Farts.
J:And?
E: Hats
J: And?
E:Beer.
J:And?
E: The animals.
J:And?
E: The price of nuts.
J:I rest my case.
E: sighs with defeat

So apparently we are a little off-task, but I thought we communicated beautifully. Adam and Jeremiah got along and discussed beer, among other things, as conversation tends to swerve all over. I have a much better idea that my conversational skills might be inherited. Along with my Polish nose.

Conversation 2:
Adam: patiently explaining to Jeremiah You see, we've got the Polish nose.
E: Nods sadly, lowers head
A: You can see right up it without me tipping back my head. Points to nose to demonstrate.
E:Well, Jeremiah has a Polish nose, too.
A & E: Brother & sister examine said nose for Polish qualities. Jeremiah gets uncomfortable.
A: Yeah, but his is different. 
E: Yeah, it's big. Like, long. Not a wide pig nose like we have.
A:That's right. His is big, but you can't see up it unless he tips his head back.  

I should mention that I'm not at all uncomfortable or disliking my nose at all. We're quite comfortable with our features. Well, I don't love my thighs but other than that, I'm good. Bodies just make for good conversation, am I right?

I should also mention (in case my brother is coming to stay with you) that he is a great house guest. He didn't make a mess and even offered to help in the kitchen. One time he did stick his butt near me while I was reading, fart, and run away, but I'm guessing he wouldn't do that to anyone else...

And he brought nuts to snack on, which is great because the price of nuts here is OUTRAGEOUS.

p.s. Anyone else hosting any guests? What do you do to make them comfortable? I warned Adam of dry itchy skin and headaches due to being in the desert. I told him to drink water. My gift to him.

Things NOT to Eat During Parent Teacher Conference Day

Today I'm here for twelve hours.

Twelve.Freaking.Hours.

And I almost burned down the house this morning. I won't know for sure that we're in the clear until I get a call from Jeremiah saying that it's still standing. So anyway, after I gingerly set my (dead to me) hair dryer (Fire Starter, I named it.) on the front yard rocks, thinking that if the sparks kept flying a fire outside the house would be better than inside the house, I had to grab/make lunch. With damp hair.

So I grabbed last night's leftover taco meat (lean turkey) from the fridge and some mini-flour tortillas.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Spicy food while wearing restrictive undies (so I can look pretty)?

No. Not good.

I hope everyone else is having a less gassy day. Because really? Not good.

Who wants to share the whoopsy-est thing they've done this week? Probably no one but me. But, HELLO. If I can/will over-share, then you all can, too.

Headaches and Boobs

This morning before Jeremiah left to run some errands while I procrastinated on important stuff by blogging and pinteresting worked on my thesis and lesson plans he mentioned he had a headache. Being the wonderful girlfriend that I am, I suggested that he take some Tylenol before he left.

I hear him open the bottle and then say, "I don't think these are right...". He then examined the bottle and discovered that he almost took my vitamins for women. With extra calcium and whatever, to increase a variety of things, including breast health.

I told him he was welcome to the vitamins, but he chose to get all huffy instead. He grabbed his things and left while I was all laughing hysterically and wheezing, "Wait, wait! Don't you want a healthy chest?"

So, he might not be coming back.

No. 1: Jumps.

A couple of years into our relationship Jeremiah and I were enjoying Jamba Juices outside JoAnne's (I make him go with to protect me from the crazy people and impulse purchases) and we were talking about whatever and he was all casually like, "Well, it was sort of around the time when I got jumped..." As if he'd mentioned the fact that strangers had beat the snot out of him before. He hadn't, by the way. For those that are wondering a time frame, this was approximately ten years B.E. (Before Emily).

I made him tell me all the details. I'm not going to put everything here. I've got to save some things for my memoirs.  I will tell you this: his numero uno concern was the king-sized candy in his pocket. I can identify. That would have been my numero dos concern (second to only, you know, my body). Especially if I had some Twizzler Sours in my pocket. They aren't even available anymore and I would fight to the death for a pack of those. Once Jeremiah got me TWO LARGE PACKS for my birthday and Spike ate them in the backseat while Jeremiah was in the store getting me a card. All the loose ones and the ones that the dog couldn't get because his nose was too large Jeremiah put in a ziplock baggy and gave me. Thanks, Babe. For reals. Thanks. Do you think I'm gross? I'm not. The dog has all his shots. And I'm not going to think about the fact that he likes his other treats to come from the litter box.

Anyway, back to the jumping -
So then, because I am nothing if not a good girlfriend, I laughed. I laughed at my boyfriend hysterically while he relived a traumatic event. At one point I managed to gasp, "Were...you...okay?"He gets mad when I laugh about this.  "It was not funny." is what he says to me. That might make me laugh more.

For the record - I know that getting jumped is serious, but to hear it so casually tossed into a conversation like one might announce they are going for a walk or putting gas in the car - hilarious.

For sure I'm going to hell except that I've got my "get out of hell free" card. They give it to teachers that teach in less than desirable areas. I'm still going to see if I can drive the bus down so I can give smooches to Jeremiah as I drop him off and visit with some people.

I mean, he did, after all, give me used candy for my birthday.

p.s. Jeremiah asked me if that story was going in my book. I told him hells yes it was and that also I would be taking the pictures for the cover of the book myself. I told him my plan and he shook his head and looked away. Then the vet came in the room to stick the thermometer up Mel's butt and that kind of ends all conversation. Because I had to hold up her tail. Awkward. Hard to hold kitty tail when you are silently laughing.

Two Exciting Things

1. When I got Mel and had her initial visit with the vet, he recommended that I regularly trim her nails. Inward groan. I have two dogs that flip out over trimmin' time. Atticus is so bad we have to take him in to the groomers or the vet. And now a cat? It didn't seem like that was going to be do-able. I watched as he trimmed her nails for us and she just slumped there in his arms, letting him cut her nails back. I figured she was letting him do that because she was 1. secretly sick at the time and 2. scared. Or maybe he knew a cat hold that allowed him to work his magic.

Flash forward to Saturday at Target. I needed more litter for Mel (I have never in my life seen a cat go potty as much as this one. Holy tinkles, Batman.) and that's when I saw the kitty nail trimmer combo set. I sighed and threw it in the basket. Mel's nails had grown to epic proportions. They would easily get her kicked off of any domestic or international flight. Raptor claws.

I managed to put it off for a day. Sunday morning came and I was ready to try it. I picked up Mel (Who is squishy and rag doll-y. She kind of just flops when you hold her.) and showed her the trimmer. Not intimidated. I flexed her paws. She licked me. I trim the first nail, sure that all hell was going to break loose. No. She might have even yawned. Holy.Crap. Easiest thing ever. At one point she started gnawing on my knuckles, but not aggressively. More like, she was bored and my knuckles were close by to provide some chewing entertainment. At one point she looked at me like she was so bored she was actually pained by how slow I was.

Long story short - I have a cat that tolerates nail trimmings like a champ. But does anyone know why she chews? I wouldn't mind ending that.

2. After 29.2 years I have discovered that I...


like mushrooms! What are the odds? Okay, maybe not exciting or life-altering for you, but for me? Super exciting.

Say It With Me!

What do we want?

Cookies!

When do we want them?

Now!


I'm tired, people. I'm really tired. And cookies always make me feel better. Except last night when I tried to convince Jeremiah AFTER dinner (of lean turkey burgers and steamed veggies) that we should make pizza. I was so.freaking.hungry. And Jeremiah? No amount of pouting was enough to get him into that kitchen to make me a pizza. Poop. So three things can be noted:
1. My go-to stress reliever is food. Sad.
2. My meds that are helping me get better make me so hungry. Sadder.
3. Jeremiah has my best interest at heart. He will only feed me when I am legitimately hungry. Suck.

Let This Be A Lesson

When we tore out the old tub (the Roman soaking tub) to make way for the fancy shmancy new one (which you can read about here), I told Jeremiah I wanted it posted on Craigslist. Here's a summary of the convo.

Emily: Puhlease post the tub on CList.
Jeremiah: It's not going to sell. Those tubs aren't that expensive new.
E:Will you please take a picture of the tub and post it on CL?
J:FINE. But it won't sell. How much do you want the asking price to be?
E:Um, $60.
J: Sixty? As in, six zero? As in, sixty bones? You're not going to get sixty dollars for it. They cost about a hundred dollars new and this one is fifteen years old.
E: PUT THE FREAKIN' THING AT SIXTY, PLEASE. Mind you, I thought this way I had some room for bargaining. I was willing to take fifty for it...Actually, I was even willing to donate it if it didn't sell. 


Flash Forward to Yesterday Night:
J: Someone called about the tub.
E: Oh, reeeeeaaaaallly?
J: Yeah, they are going to stop by tonight.
E: Okay. If they ask to take it for anything under sixty, you tell them fifty-five.
J: They're going to go lower.
E: Suck it up, get out there, and sell some tub!
 

Comes Back Inside, Slaps a Wad of Bills in My Hand
E:So how much did you get?
J: Sixty.
E: Sixty? Huh. That's interesting. I forget, weren't you the one that told me it wouldn't sell and then if it did that I had way over-priced it? There was actually a lot more of this irritating goading, but in an effort to save some time, I've condensed it.
J:Silence and glares in my general direction

Please, let this be a lesson. I am never wrong.

And don't doubt that I did a happy money dance. Because I did. I stopped just short of dancing over to Jer and waving it in his face. 

And p.s.
Bathroom update: We have long since fixed the shower in the master bath. Months ago, actually. And when I say "we" I mean Jeremiah. It has been taken apart and put together again and is leak-free. And it looks nicer. Not gorgeous, but much better.

The sixty dollars will go towards new hardware (right word?) for the tub. The tub should be in soooooon. Money has been tight here. It might be that we're saving for a roof and cars and I'm finishing my last three grad classes (Which, here is some irony. The raise that I get as a result of finishing my degree doesn't even cover the cost of classes. For years. I'm laughing on the inside.). Anyway, not a lot for bathroom remodeling. Once the tub is in, the rest might be on hold until those pesky classes are paid.  Stupid desire for knowledge.
 

Ah, Crap.

I am still sick.

I don't even want to get into it.

I just wanted to provide my reason for not writing.

And we have company thirty miles away. Thirty miles close. And while it makes me sad for our company that I am pathetically entertaining them while I'm sick ("Hello. Welcome to my house of germs."), I'm somewhat enjoying the irony of living in a city that has endless sunshine over three hundred days a year and having guests for the one weekend that it rains.

Welcome to my house of germs and the valley of the sun rain.

p.s. Mel now hunts Atticus. I'm not sure yet if it is all in fun or if she is thinking he looks like a delicious snack. He's only got her beat by a measly pound, which isn't much. And she has claws. I'm monitoring the situation closely.  She also takes great delight in running around after me in the morning. I look like I am leading a parade because then the dogs come after us. When she gets close enough she attacks my ankle/leg (without claws). And she still ignores Jeremiah.

Sickies x Two

I know that I always hope and pray joke and say that I want Jeremiah to get sick just once. Just once.

But that's a joke.

And I know that I always say that I cough on his toothbrush, sneeze on his pillow, and generally contaminate everything he touches. So he can finally understand my sickies.

But that's a joke, too.

And now boyfriend is sick. Suck.

As we all know, men are BABIES when it comes to being sick. I mean, oh my gosh. Sorry babe, but it's true. I'm wishing I could take back all my hoping and praying that he would just once understand my sickies.

Nothing is getting worked on this week. If our house was color-coded by a sickness threat level, we would be level red right now. Don't leave your toothbrush unattended at our house. Don't watch anyone's toothbrush for them.

p.s. I am listening to people scuffling along on the sidewalk outside my room. Do people not know how to PICK UP THEIR FEET anymore?

p.p.s Jeremiah said to me, "Remember that time I was sick in California for over a month?" While trying to prove that he wasn't always healthy (that was five years ago, by the way). He's dubbed it, "The Time I Lost My Singing Voice", which made me laugh until I coughed up some stuff. Jeremiah has NEVER been able to sing. And if you are sick for a month and don't go to the doctor, that's your own fault.

p.p.p.s. Um, I went to the doctor and was basically right. Caught something from one of my students, it sat around in my unworking sinuses, and turned into a bacterial sinus infection. Which is the worst kind. There's actual pus involved.  And lots of pressure. And then some more pus. Lots of it, actually.

Today's Fortune & Health Advice

So this means I can eat Chinese food all the time? I was just waiting for permission. Good to know that it will keep me healthy.