Adventures in Freezer Cooking

Since becoming a stay at home mom, I've been doing my best to transform my home into a) a place I don't mind staying every day, and b) a well-oiled machine.

I truly think that goal "b" may be beyond the reach even of extremely organized and anal homemakers like my mother. In case you don't know my mother, trust me, she's the most organized and clean freak person I know. Though, she has relaxed a bit in recent years, due in part to having a disabled husband and very sick child to care for.

Over the summer, especially, I found that we were eating whatever I could throw together in the few minutes I had after running The Munchkin around to her activities. Since Hubby doesn't cook at all (his stove was disconnected and he only ate what could be eaten raw or microwaved when we first started dating), the entirety of our family's nutritional needs fall on my shoulders. I do all of the grocery shopping, preparation, and cooking. Hubby also refuses to touch dishes, so all of those fall to me as well. This means that I adore one-pot meals!

Since I was so often reaching for frozen pizza, turkey burgers, and vegetables, I was struck by the idea that I should make some freezer meals of my own. Pinterest to the rescue! I scoured Pinterest and other websites, and I decided to make my first batch of frozen slow cooker meals.

As aforementioned, I love one-pot meals because of the easy cleanup. I also love slow cooker meals in the summertime, because I have an ancient O'Keefe and Merritt stove (it was built in 1952) that turns my entire house into a sauna in the time it takes to boil a 4 quart pot of water. In the winter, I frequently bake for no other reason than to heat the house, but the summers here rarely fall below 95 degrees Fahrenheit.

I enlisted the help of my sister (making 14 meals on my own with a 4 month old nursling was not my idea of fun) to help with BabyA while I was chopping and to put bags together while I was nursing. It took about 3 hours to compile 14 meals (2 each of 7 different meals). Twelve of the meals were slow cooker meals, and the remaining 2 were meal-sized meatballs to be baked with barbeque sauce.

After the success of my first batch of freezer meals, I've been inspired. I'll be making another dozen or so freezer meals this weekend (my sister will be at a choir retreat, so I'll be on my own), but I've also started freezing much more.

I grew up in a family of 7 who frequently had one or more teenagers and/or young adults living with us at any given moment. This is very obvious in my cooking. Cooking for my small family is one of the biggest challenges I've faced. There is rarely a dinner that does not have leftovers.

Last week, in the mood for comfort food, I made my mom's cheesy chicken casserole. It's certainly not the healthiest food in my repertoire, but it's perfect when I need a comfort food fix (and I beef up the amount of veggies to make myself feel better about the unhealthier aspects). Since I was already making one batch (which serves 10-12), I decided to double the recipe and then divide the total into 4 meals. I baked one portion and divided the rest between 3 freezer bags.

About 10 days ago, my mom and I were in Wal-Mart, and there was a woman passing out samples of chicken in Old El Paso enchilada sauce. I liked the flavour of the sauce, but I wasn't going to buy any...until the woman said "you can take as many $1 off coupons as you like, and the sauce is only $1.35 per can." I grabbed 10 coupons, bought 6 cans of enchilada sauce (for a whopping $0.35 each), and 4 packets of taco seasoning (which was free with the coupons).

I put the cans in my pantry and didn't think of them until a few days later when I was looking for something to make for dinner. I took 3 frozen chicken breasts, a can of Mexican style stewed tomatoes, and 2 cans of enchilada sauce and put it all in the slow cooker. I cooked it on low for about 10 hours and then shredded the chicken. I had some leftover white rice in the refrigerator that had gotten a tad dry. Since I had an excess of liquid in my Crock Pot from cooking frozen chicken, I threw the slightly dry rice into the Crock and allowed it to absorb the excess liquid. The result, when combined with some nicely steamed vegetables, was a very popular dinner.

Hubby and The Munchkin, however, are not good at eating leftovers. So, after a couple of days in the refrigerator, I decided I needed to do something with the immense amount of leftovers before they spoiled. Since we eat more tortillas in our house than we do bread, I often buy them in bulk. I also had a bit of cheddar cheese that wasn't earmarked for anything. I warmed the tortillas slightly, grated the cheese, and made a dozen burritos. The burritos were then wrapped in plastic wrap and divided into freezer bags. They're now residing in my deep freeze until I use them to send with Hubby to work or to make cheater enchiladas (frozen burritos covered in enchilada sauce and cheese and baked until done).

Overall, I'm enjoying the freezer cooking (it certainly makes meal planning easier), and I'm sure I'll have many future posts about my experiences.

Writing Again

I'm really going to attempt to keep up with this blogging business. I need to write regularly so that I can hopefully keep this awful writer's block at bay.

Since I resigned from my job in July, we have been surviving on a single income. Hubby makes fairly decent money, and we live comfortably (for the most part), but I still feel odd asking him for money when I need something because I've been supporting myself financially since I was 16.

In January, I was having dinner with my friend Shannon Morton, and she was telling me about this marvelous author she'd been stalking (Shan's words, not mine). That's how I was introduced to Amber Lynn Natusch. Over the past several months, Amber has published a few more books, and Skyped with our book club after each one. Both ladies are fantastic authors, and they have a YA novel coming soon (click on Shannon's name for more details). Amber is also releasing the next novel in her Caged series in the next week or so. Amber and Shannon made me realize that I could write that elusive complete novel, and maybe even make  a little extra income in doing so.

I've been writing various and sundry things since I was very young. In fact, I still have my half of a manuscript that a friend and I wrote when I was 10. The story was about two sisters who get shipped off to a boy's choir/school because of a misunderstanding by a distant relative. My problem is that I have NEVER, not once, finished anything longer than a short story (excepting those long papers I had to write for school). I have written enough poetry to fill a short anthology; I have written and posted a few short pieces of Jane Austen fanfiction. I have not ever completed a novel or long fanfiction story that I've begun.

Theoretically, I now have time. Somewhere between cooking every meal, laundry, cleaning and repairing a 90 year old house, homework, PTA, and keeping my teething 5 month old entertained, I am going to actually finish a novel. I have finally managed to figure out how to nurse BabyA and type at the same time! (Thanks to Jessica over at The Leaky Boob for her inspiring Facebook and Instagram photos).

I was a little hesitant to share my novel aspirations with my husband. He is many things, but sensitive is not one of them, and I am very insecure about sharing my work. Shannon was the first person I told, followed by my younger sister (she is 15 and has the making of a great writer herself). At best, I expected Hubby to be condescending and sarcastic. At worst, I thought he may actually be upset that I was spending time writing when I could be cooking or cleaning. Sometimes, I forget that my husband is not my father. He was (for him) very enthusiastic, and helpful. Unfortunately, his work schedule prevents him from being helpful by way of occupying the children so I can write, but I am glad for his support in whatever form it takes.

Now, I just need to apply myself. I know I can write a novel. I've read enough awful cheap and free Kindle books to know that there are people out there, making money, who wouldn't have passed my freshman English class (I'm talking high school, here, people). I've also learned that the Indie author community is very supportive and helpful. It's all very inspiring and encouraging. I just need to learn to translate that inspiration and encouragement into words on the page.

Wish me luck!

I apparently suck at this...

I'm not sure I can get everyone up to date without spending hours upon hours blogging my little heart out...and I don't have nearly enough time for that business.

The short and sweet (as well as not so sweet) version is:

•  On July 23, 2011, we found out that I was 2.5 weeks pregnant
• I spent the rest of that weekend in the hospital because I'd gotten my lap band filled too tightly and couldn't eat or drink anything.
• Our wonderful little Puck died of Parvo over Labor Day weekend 2011. The vet said it was an awful tragedy because dogs his age who'd been vaccinated usually survived. The vaccine company reimbursed us for his medical expenses and will reimburse us for the cost of another dog when we decide to buy one.
• About 7 weeks into my pregnancy, I developed severe sciatica and began seeing a chiropractor.
• On January 17, 2012, Hubs and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary by doing absolutely nothing. I was sick (as I was for the majority of my pregnancy), and he was asleep.
• On February 24, 2012, my favorite supervisor had a heart attack at work and died. He had just announced his retirement and spent over an hour the previous day telling me about his plans for retirement. He is still missed greatly.
• On February 27, 2012, my OBGYN took me off work early because my blood pressure was through the roof, despite the medication I was taking.
• On April 3, 2012 (my due date), Hubs and I took Belle, Mel, Chloe, and a niece and nephew to C.A.L.M. and for a picnic at  Hart Park. I walked several miles, which did not increase the contractions I'd been having intermittently for the past 2 days.
• On April 4, 2012, I made my way to the hospital to be induced.
• I was induced around 3:00 PM. I was 1-2 cm dilated and 98% effaced.
• My water was broken at 4:00 PM. 
• At 9:30 PM, I was not dilating past 5 cm, and my blood pressure was shooting up to 225/170. My nurse told me that I should consider an epidural (my original birth plan was to have as little medical intervention as possible) because I was not relaxing enough between contractions to allow my body to dilate, and if my BP continued to rise, I'd probably be looking at a caesarean.
• At 10:00 PM, I got my first epidural. It didn't work.
• At 10:30, I got my second epidural, which worked marvelously. I couldn't sleep, but I was able to relax enough to have a really nice conversation with my mom while Hubs slept on the couch.
• At 1:30 AM, I started pushing.
• At 3:30 AM, the baby's head crowned. She was sunny side up, and the cord was around her neck. There was only one nurse in the room. The nurse stuck her head out the door and hollered for assistance while also telling me to stop pushing.
• I started crying because I COULD NOT stop pushing. My body was telling me to push, and the epidural had completely stopped working at the moment that baby's head crowned.
• The second nurse who ran into the room had barely enough time to throw on some gloves before baby turned herself and came sliding out.
• Alanna was born on April 5, 2012 at 3:32 AM with wide open eyes, red hair, and the most perfect little body I'd ever seen. I fell instantly in love.
• I was very disappointed that Hubs (who didn't find out about Belle's existence until about 6 hours after her birth) didn't get to cut the cord. Because there was meconium in the fluid when they broke my water, the NICU nurses cut the cord immediately and began suctioning fluid from Alanna's mouth and nose.
• She latched on like a pro the very first time.
• We were able to go home from the hospital the next afternoon.
• She is very attached to her daddy and her big sissy.

This is Alanna at a few hours old

Her first bonding experience with daddy

• On July 2, 2012, I quit my hated, stressful job (to be honest, I loved my job, I just hated working for a department that treated people like garbage) so I could stay home with the girls.
• Alanna was 20 weeks old yesterday. Sometimes I wish I could freeze time and enjoy her at this age when she's so precious and innocent.

She's all boobie baby (6 weeks old)

 

She still loves spending time with daddy (and trying to crawl)

She's quite the little mischievous one already (18 weeks)

 

She's mommy's little angel (20 weeks)

I am enjoying every moment I have with my special little blessing. Hubs has been working so hard (lots of overtime) to ensure that our needs are met without my income. I am so thankful to have a husband who works so hard to support his family (even if his motivation around the house leaves much to be desired). While he is working to support us, I'm working on a little side project that will hopefully provide a little extra income.

 

Puppy!

Meet the newest member of our family...

PUCK!

No, he's not named after the disc-like object used in hockey. He is named after the mischevious fairy in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

When my beloved Queensland Heeler, Cherry, passed away in December, I was absolutely devastated. The Husband already had 2 dogs: 5 1/2 year old Axel (yes, I'm spelling it correctly, it's short for Battle Axe), a German Shorthair, and 13 year old Sammy, a terrier mix, so he wasn't too keen on the idea of getting a puppy. I'd told him that was fine, I was more than willing to get a shelter dog, and I wanted a BIG one. I'd have loved a Rottweiler or Mastiff.

Unfortunately, our homeowner's insurance wouldn't allow me to get a Rottie, and The Hubby was more than a little opposed to getting a dog that would be or was bigger than Axel. I had considered stopping at the shelter more than a few times, but never made it to any of them.

About 2 weeks ago, The Hubby came home with a small slip of paper with a name and phone number on it with "Lab Puppies" written next to the name. At his insistance, I called the man who lived in Tehachapi to ask about the puppies. Since the puppies' momma was papered, but the daddy was not, the puppies were much cheaper than I expected, and I eagerly dragged The Hubby up the mountains to Tehachapi (a rather beautiful 40 minute drive from our house) to pick out my new baby 2 weeks ago Saturday.

There were 3 male puppies left (The Hubby didn't want to get a female because Axel hasn't been neutered), and one of them was especially precocious and came right up to me, tail wagging. The biggest of the three (and also the handsomest), was too timid and cowered every time The Husband got near him. I gleefully scooped the less handsome, but more friendly, puppy, and loaded him into my car.

The drive down the mountain consisted of The Hubby and I arguing about what to name him. I was adamant. I wanted to name him Bingley (after Jane Austen's character Mr. Bingley of Pride and Prejudice). The Hubby went through every lame name I could think of (and a few Babylon 5 and Star Trek related names), which eventually deteriorated into him making lame jokes about what we could name him (I gave him a break since he'd worked 12 hours the night before and hadn't slept yet). I told The Hubby that, if I couldn't name him after a character from one of Austen's novels, the puppy's name had to at least be literary. That's how we agreed on Puck. Because, after my beloved Jane, Shakespeare is my next largest literary obsession.

As I type this, my rapidly growing puppy (he was 10 weeks old on Wednesday) is lying across my shoulders on the back of the couch, occasionally licking my ear. He's very attached to his mama.

The Munchkin is terrified of Puck and will not go near him unless he's asleep. I'm hoping she'll grow out of it once we break him of his mouthy ways.

Axel was also not thrilled about meeting his new "brother." He's gotten better over the past 2 weeks, and, though he rarely plays with Puck, will at least let Puck wander around the yard unmolested.

Raising a lab puppy is a whole new experience for me. I've always had cattle dogs, specifically Queenslands, and sporting dogs are completely different. For one, Puck is not nearly as intelligent as the dogs I've been used to training...which means I have to focus on controlling my frustration. However, he also can't figure out how to pretend like he's listening, only to manage a way aroud the command I've given him. I think I will definitely be getting him into some obedience classes as soon as he's gotten all of his shots.

I'm not looking forward to the extremely long puppy stage that I know most labs experience, and I'm hoping he'll pick up "fetch" from Axel (since that's the main joy of Axel's life). On the other hand, I'm really glad I don't have to worry about any agression issues (which were a constant concern with my Queenies), and he absolutely adores children, which is fantastic. In fact, tomorrow, I'm leaving him with my sisters while my mom and I go on our annual day trip to Ventura. I am completely confident that they'll be able to wear him out enough that I won't have to spend the evening running him out before I put him in his crate for bed time. He's also taken to crate training like no other dog I've owned. He hardly whines when he's in his crate (unless he needs to be let out to potty), and he hasn't once gone to the bathroom in his crate.

I'm very excited about raising my new baby (although I'd forgotten how much work a brand new puppy is), and I think we're going to have 2 very good family dogs by the time Puck's gotten older. We're already discussing our next dog (since Sammy's health is getting bad and we don't think she'll live much longer), and I think I'm going to let The Hubby take responsibility for raising that one. :)

Puck and Axel in our back yard...which is in desperate need of grass, I know.

Progress!

Well, it's been just over five months since my surgery and things finally seem like they're moving along.

I have the standard lap band, which holds 10 cc of saline. My doctor has been gradually increasing the level every two weeks since December, and he took me up to 7 cc last Wednesday.

The first several days were absolutely miserable. The evening after the fill, I couldn't even keep water down. I was on liquids for almost 3 days following. By this past Wednesday, I was finally able to eat normal food (although bread and tortillas are nearly impossible), and I was so excited.

I'm finally to the point where I can only eat 4-6 ounces at a time. It's such a weird sensation to go to McDonalds and order a 6 piece McNugget (of which I can only eat 4), when I used to be able to easily eat a 20 piece and fries.

When I started this adventure, I weighed over 300 lbs and was wearing a size 24-26. As of Monday, I weighed in at 244 and am a solid size 18. My goal is to be in a 14-16 by my cousin's wedding in May, mostly because all of the cute dresses I've found are size 16 or smaller. :)

I had to take my wedding rings in to be sized, and my fingers are a size and a half smaller than they were in October. I am actually wearing jeans at the moment that haven't fit me in about 3 years...and they're very loose.

The adjustment hasn't been easy. The weeks with no weight loss were so discouraging that I often thought to myself, "why did I put myself through all of this if I'm not going to lose any weight?" Thankfully, I have some amazing friends and coworkers who have been through it before, and they have been marvelously encouraging.

The biggest problems have been side effects of the weight loss. For the past 2 years, I've had an Implanon birth control implant in my arm. Once I'd lost about 40 lbs, my body went absolutely crazy and I was miserable for almost 2 months before I was able to have it removed. Of course, once it was removed, I started having problems with the incision. I'm on antibiotics as a precautionary measure, but my body (which normally heals insanely quickly) is not healing the hole in my arm. If it's not healed in a few days, my OBGYN has told me he'll have to stitch it closed.

Overall, I'm incredibly excited about the progress since my last fill, and I feel better than I have in years. My energy level has doubled, and I feel like I'm 25, not 55.

This morning, especially, it feels like everything is falling into place. I have my Starbucks, my hubby is working out with his buddies before he comes home and goes to sleep for the day, and I have Jethro Tull blasting in the house with the front door open while I sit on the porch and drink my coffee. The weather is beautiful, and, later, I'm going to Social Security to (finally) change my name.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Yes, I'm still alive...I think

Since we last met, so many things in my life have changed. Of course, maybe life just seems so different when viewed through the sparkle of the diamonds on my left ring finger.
Yes, that's right, I got married! Labor Day weekend, The Boy (now The Hubby!) and I took a trip to Morro Bay, which included a trip to Hearst Castle, wine tasting at Kelsey Vineyards in San Luis Obispo (and a visit to my great grandma who lives next door), a day spent in Solvang, and --as always-- a trip to the Chumash Casino in Santa Ynes. While in the process of attempting to drag The Boy away from the slot machines so that I could get some food and sleep, he won a $50,0000.00 jackpot. Yes, there really were that many zeroes. Never mind that, after installing air conditioning on our house, buying my rings, and paying off some bills, there isn't a dime left.

After a marvelous weekend, he proposed on the way home, with Peter Frampton playing in the background. We had agreed to keep things quiet for a while because he hadn't had time to talk to my dad. Unfortunately, I ended up telling my dad that The Boy and I were engaged when I was visiting him in the hospital and wasn't sure he was going to survive. As it turned out, dad was in the beginning stages of a diabetic coma and doesn't remember most of the month of September. He has been doing much better, though.

We initially set the date for June 5, 2011. As you can plainly see, though, we didn't quite make it to June. The more I started thinking about what was needed for the wedding and how much it was going to cost, the more stressed out I got. The more stressed I was, the less I was  inclinded to do any kind of planning. It was a vicious circle.

The weekend of Martin Luther King, Jr. day, The Boy and I were in Laughlin, NV to visit his grandpa who'd been ill and in the hospital. The Boy's brother and sister in law were there, as well, and I had a nice time visiting with the family and doing a bit of gambling. Between the two of us, we had a bad gambling weekend, but we figured that we saved on other things, so it all evens out.

On Sunday morning, while The Boy and his brother were helping their grandpa with something on the computer, I was in the living room with my sister in law who mentioned that The Boy and I should get married while we were in Nevada that weekend. I can't blame everything on her, though. I'd been thinking about eloping for some time before that conversation. I mentioned it to The Boy when we got a moment alone and he made me make the decision (stupid man, always making me choose!). After visiting at his grandpa's house for a while, we ended up driving to Oatman, AZ to see the "wild" burros that roam the streets. We made it back to the hotel for a few minutes before we headed back into Arizona to meet some of the family for dinner in honor of grandpa's birthday.

There was a brief moment of hesitation when we found out that the marriage license bureau in Laughlin wasn't going to be open on MLK day. To solve that problem, we got breakfast, checked out of the hotel, and hit the road for Las Vegas. I'm infinitely glad that we had to go to Vegas, though. Since that was where we went for our first date, it seemed rather poetic to be married there as well. I got a frantic call from my sister in law telling us not to get married until she and my brother in law got to Vegas.

We got to Vegas and got our marriage license (before and after which we were mobbed by men with pamphlets touting the merits of their chapels), and toured a chapel before we headed down to Fremont Street to find some wedding bands. We ended up with a couple of plain silver bands and got a little more gambling in before my brother and sister in law showed up.

The ceremony was short and sweet. The preacher was a petite, vivacious black woman who also served as the photographer. In between performing the ceremony and our exchange of vows, she managed to capture several shots of us with which I have fallen absolutely in love. 

Seeing the silver band (he refuses to buy another ring for himself) on The Hubby's hand still send a little chill down my spine and saying "my husband" sends my heart into overdrive. I'm not nearly naive enough to think things are going to turn out "happily ever after," but it's still an indescribable feeling to know that I am part of someone else, and he of me. I am definitely blessed beyond words.

January 17, 2011

In Honor of a Wonderful Man

Tuesday, I received some of the most heartbreaking news I've ever heard.

Shortly after lunch, I was working on some paperwork when my cell phone rang. Since it was a friend of mine who seldom calls, I answered. Sobbing, she told me that a mutual friend of ours was dying.

Shocked, I didn't even have words to express the emotions flying through me. I remember saying "oh my gosh" a lot. Apparently, he had been rushed into surgery on Tuesday, where he coded twice before losing all brain function. He was on life support for a few hours before his mother, in accordance with his wishes, took him off the ventilator.

Rick was an amazing man. When I met him, he was angry and self destructive. We had those traits in common. We met about 2 years ago in a bar where I was meeting our mutual friend, Jessica. He was dating someone at the time, as was I, so my initial "he's kinda cute" thought never developed into anything more. I'll never forget the way he made all of us laugh that night.

Six months later, both of us single, we met again at Jessica's going away dinner. Jessica took it upon herself to "set us up" shortly thereafter. We spent a lot of time together over the couple of months after Jess left. Both of us being Aries', we tended to have a lot in common and share a lot of the same opinions. We could talk for hours about nothing. Neither of us wanted (or was ready for) a relationship, so we just stayed friends. Our friendship stayed, but communication waned a bit when he started dating again.

I'm not sure what prompted the change in him. I know he had recently lost a good friend, but, one night, we started talking about The O.C. Supertones and how fabulous their music is, and we ended talking about God and the difference He makes in peoples' lives. From that night forward, I noticed a marked and constant change in the Rick I'd once known. In fact, I found myself more attracted to him than I'd ever been.

I realized pretty quickly, though, that Rick and I were only ever meant to be friends. Brother and sister in the Lord. His was a friendship I cherished tremendously. I remember many conversations about what God was doing in Rick's life and the many struggles he faced when he started losing friends because of his faith. He was an inspiration.

The change I saw in him over the past year was amazing. God did a major work in Rick's life.

I'll miss his lunchtime texts that always managed to gross me out and destroy my appetite, I'll miss his goofy jokes about loving the Jonas Bros. and High School Musical. I'll miss the solid wisdom he always gave whenever I needed "guy advice." There are so many things to miss, and even more to celebrate.

While I mourn the loss of my friend, I know without a doubt that I will see him again someday. Rick isn't missing us a bit, he's too busy worshiping his King. He's not in pain any longer, and he's been rewarded for his faithful servitude to the Lord. While the world is a little bit darker place without him, I know I'm not the only person whose life was brightened by Rick's life.

We'll miss you, buddy.

Growth

I am very lazy about many things, but getting my hair trimmed is one thing about which I'm almost disgustingly lazy. I make a concerted effort to remember to get my hair trimmed at least once every six months. This time, though, I'm ashamed to admit, I waited a full 8 months to get my hair trimmed.

I quickly made an appointment with my hairdresser when I realized that, even if I could use my recently gifted Chi straightener to work magic on my obstinately curly hair, I had some serious split ends. Carrie, the wonderfully gifted hairdresser who's been cutting and styling my hair for over a decade, is always good about squeezing me in whenever I call at the last minute.

I have been in the habit, for several years, of having Carrie straighten my hair whenever I go in for a trim. That is also the only time my hair has been straightened.

After getting my hair quickly trimmed and styled on my lunch hour this afternoon, I used my afternoon break to peruse some pictures I'd posted on Facebook over the past year or so. I came across a picture from exactly a year ago, on another occasion when I'd just returned from Carrie's ministrations.

While I'm always shocked at the amount that my hair has grown, I was blown away at the comparison between last year's picture and today's. Of course, that comparison started me thinking: wouldn't it be wonderful if we could gauge personal (emotional, spiritual, etc.) growth in a similar manner?

Wouldn't it be wonderful if one could look in the mirror (or at a picture) and instantly see visible proof of how far he or she had come in life?

I know that I've grown exponentially over the past two years. I know, too, that I am no where near the point of life where I need to slow that growing process even the smallest bit. Similarly to the fact that I couldn't do certain things with my hair when it was shorter than it is now, there are many things in my life that I was in no way ready to handle last year at this time. The biggest hurdle I wasn't ready to tackle last August was a relationship. Sure, I could blame my anti-relationship stance on the harsh breakup I'd gone through just six months previously, but the reality is that I knew I wasn't ready to commit to someone on the level that an adult relationship requires.

Fast-forward to August 2010 and I'm struggling through my first "real" relationship (with the man with whom I hope to spend the rest of my life). I am forever grateful to my friends who have been in my shoes before and have been an endless source of advice and encouragement. Like my hair, my ability to commit (among many other things) has grown to astounding lengths.

I am not naive, I know myself well enough to know that being in a relationship (not to mention life in general) will remain an almost constant struggle as I fight against the growth I know I need but do not want.

W-O-R-K is the nastiest 4-letter word in my vocabulary

Sometimes, I wish I had the energy of a five year old.

I get home from work, completely exhausted, and am instantly worn out by just watching The Munchkin twirl around the living room, irritating her daddy and making a mess. This is repeated every Monday through Thursday night. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, I'm usually so tired by the time that The Boy and Munchkin are gone for the night that I can barely muster the energy to change for bed, let alone get any work done around the house.

Monday and Tuesday nights are usually a battle of wills between The Boy and myself to determine who will be getting dinner for the three of us. I maintain that he should be responsible since I work on Mondays and Tuesdays and he doesn't.

I think the job is really what is killing me right now. Even though my stress levels have decreased exponentially since the retirement of the supervisor from hell, I still find myself exhausted every day. I can wake up full of energy and become immensely tired by the just the thought of going to work. You can only imaging what happens once I get there and attempt to make it through the day. By the time I make my way to the end of the work week, I typically need at least one full day of nothing in order to recover enough energy to do anything semi-productive for the rest of the weekend.

I'm hoping that some of the exhaustion and lethargy is weight-related and will vanish once I've lost some weight, but, meanwhile, I'm stuck in this endless cycle of utter exhaustion. I drag myself out of sleep every morning to the blaring of my alarm (on which I've probably pressed the "snooze" button more than a few times); I drag myself to work after the briefest morning routine I can manage. I have my work preparation down to a science. I can wake up at 0600 and leave my house by 0625 (0630 if I have to wash my hair or shave my legs). I have all but given up on wearing makeup, and I throw on the nearest articles of clothing, with little to no thought to whether or not they match. Once at work, I trudge from my desk to the nearest  available coffee. By the time I trudge back to my desk, my computer is ready for me to actually sign on. I have an hour (give or take) until my first appointment of the morning shows up. Sometimes, I get lucky and I don't have a morning appointment until 0900 or 1000. Mostly, though, my life is a circus of appointments with my clients (yes, I have clients who make appointments simply because they got a letter in the mail with my name on it and the clients want to meet me in person) and my futile attempts to meet the completely unreasonable expectations set forth by the upper management in our department (none of whom can even navigate the computer system, let alone mange a caseload).

A year and a half ago, my caseload was hovering around 300-350, and we hadn't separated the homeless cases from the rest of the Food Stamps cases. Now, each Food Stamps worker carries a caseload of between 500-550, and the homeless/elderly cases are in a completely separate unit (those cases number in the 3,000s). So now, instead of 2,400-2,800 cases divided amongst 10 workers, we have almost 7,000 cases divided amongst 9. The increase we have seen in our workloads alone is unreal.

One thing I am currently thankful for is the fact that we now have a supervisor who understands the fact that there is no physically possible way to accomplish everything we're supposed to do within the time frames allotted. His motto is "do your best." It's nice to know that I'm not going to get written up for doing my best and still falling short.

I'm not a math person, and have never attempted to figure how much time is actually required to do my job (I simply know that 80 hours every two weeks is not sufficient), but my supervisor has, apparently. He told a coworker that we would need a minimum of 200 hours a month in order to meet the minimum requirements. My perfectionist self would probably need closer to 300 hours a month to make my caseload look the way it did a little over a year ago.

I don't think anyone will ever be caught up again. We work in quicksand. The more we struggle to dig ourselves out of the pit, the deeper we sink (and it doesn't help that upper management is dumping more on top of us by the truckload).

I really hope I find a way out soon. There has been a rash of retirements lately (Gee, I wonder why?), and I was talking about retirement time frames with some of my coworkers. I realized that, if I stayed with this department, I would have 30 years of service by the time I'm 50 years old. The only problem is that I don't know if I will live to see my 50th birthday if I continue working for this county, let alone this department.

Pedi = Relaxation

There's something so relaxing about getting a pedicure. Sometimes, there's nothing better after a long day than soaking one's feet in warm, bubbly water while reclining in a massage chair. Feeling the vibration along one's spine and the inevitable lotion massage combine to melt away the stress of a day spent feeling underappreciated and unwanted.

Today, after months of avoiding pedicures because I was battling the fungus from Hates (quite literally) that I managed to pick up at the place that must now be avoided at all costs. After seeking out references from friends, I tossed all of my work down the drain with one impulsive Google search. That's right, I chose a nail shop based solely on the facts that it was fairly close to my house and that the woman who answered the phone told me that they were closing in 10 minutes, but would stay open if I was coming right away.

I jumped in my car and almost ran out the door.

When I got to the salon, I wasn't overly shocked by the decor. Like a hundred other nail salons I've entered in my lifetime, this salon was sparsely decorated in posters featuring photos of perfectly manicured nails. What surprised me, though, were the homey floral and country scenes hanging between the nail posters. There were overstuffed couches, eagerly awaiting those who had to wait for an opening. I, however, did not fall into that category. The nice Asian lady promptly ushered me to a waiting spa chair and bade me sit.

Since there was only one manicurist and  two customers (which soon turned to three), I had plenty of time to just sit and relax. I had no reason to hurry home, as The Boy was sound asleep and snoring when I left, so I just let myself sink a little further into the vibrating chair and dug my toes a little deeper into the bubbling water.

For those of you locals who are wondering where I went, I made the long trek to the other side of the 99 to the Von's shopping centre on the corner of Olive Dr. and Victor St. The place is called Top Nails III and it's tucked into the corner next to Rusty's Pizza. The prices were fantastic, as well.

I've had a string of bad luck with similar nail salons. First, there was the salon just down the street from my house where I experienced something akin to torture which left my toes throbbing for days (I am not exaggerating). The spa chair in that particular establishment also seemed to be intent on forcing me into the water meant for my feet. Needless to say, I will never return to that spot. Then, there was the aforementioned "fungus" spot. Excuse me while I shudder a bit in rememberance.

Top Nails III was simple in decor, but definitely clean. In fact, it was probably one of the cleaner establishments of the sort that I've had the pleasure of using.

Overall, my experience was an almost perfect balm to one of the more hectic Mondays of the past several weeks. I'm fairly certain that the only missing piece was a big, icy, salt-rimmed margarita. Of course, nothing says that there won't be time for one a little later in the evening.

A Farewell to Writer's Block

I am hoping that, by writing the above, I can banish the writer's block that's been plaguing me, and I'll be able to get some work done on the many things that have been sitting untouched.

The one aspect that seems to have suffered least is my poetry. I haven't been writing nearly as much as I should, but I'm at least not completely blocked in that area. Anything other than poetry, though, has been waiting in the wings for quite a while now.

I think the lack of writing is probably attributable to a couple of things in my life: happiness and stress. While I know those two things don't typically go together, I'm finding they're the two occurrences that make me least likely to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys). When I'm stressed (as I increasingly find myself lately), I often retreat from many things I enjoy, which leads to depression, which makes me even more apathetic and less likely to do anything outside of sleeping and working. Happiness, likewise, influences my writing (or lack thereof) because I am an angsty writer. I write my best when I am upset or feeling particularly morbid. When I stop to consider how wonderful my life is and how happy I truly am, I'm less inclined to write about the nonexistence of love or some other suitably jaded topic. Love, especially, has been difficult to write since I have no experience in writing about love gone right.

I have an excruciatingly vivid imagination, but, when it comes to "true love," my imagination falls horrifically short. I am going to attempt to remedy that, though. I'm still not sure that I can bring myself to write a "happily ever after" story, but I definitely feel the urge to attempt something a bit more realistic. While I'm immensely happy in my own relationship, I'm not stupidly so. I have very realistic expectations of how difficult things are going to be for The Boy and me. They haven't exactly been a walk in the park thus far.

About a year and a half ago, a close friend of mine and I started working on what we imagined would become at least 2 novels, though we were aiming for a trilogy. For the time, it's teen fiction and the heroine is much like we were at eighteen. The problem I have with long works of fiction is that I get lost in the details and lose sight of where the story should go. I'm great with the intricacies of a scene and I would rate my descriptive capabilities pretty highly, but I'm lousy with a general outline. My friend is wonderful with the outline, but she gets bored with the details (there is reason that we claim to each have one half of the same brain). For the first few chapters (all we managed to accomplish before real life intervened), our method worked extremely well. She would draft a chapter to give me a basic idea of what was going on, and I would fill in the details. We actually have a few very good chapters and an intriguing prologue.

My goal for this summer is to get some work done on the book. Each of our bucket lists includes becoming a published authoress, and I intend for my work to be published in more than a non-profit teen magazine (Teen Ink, for those of you who are wondering). There is also the wonderful thought of being able to make some money from my writing that keeps me itching to write more, even when I'm suffering from the world's worst case of writer's block.

Meanwhile, I'll keep rambling until I find something worth putting pen to page.

Serendipity

I often wonder about the ways in which people find themselves connected. I've had a few of those "small world" experiences myself in the past few years and am always amazed at how God manages to bring the right person into one's life at the precise moment he or she is needed.

My favorite recent example is a person who became one of my closest friends within a few days of our meeting. I had just promoted to my current position back in 2008 and was preparing for my first day of training. I am not a training kind of person. Especially in our department, training tends to be long and tedious, not to mention full of people who cannot seem to grasp the simplest concepts. Those of you who know me may or may not be surprised to learn that I'm somewhat antisocial. Work settings more than social turn me into somewhat of a curmudgeon.

That day found me nervous about starting a new position and frustrated at the change in my work schedule. Out of habit more than anything, I chose a seat towards the back of the room, leaving a wide berth between myself and the two people already seated in the front row. Shortly before 8:00 AM, I noticed a pretty redhead walk through the door. After a cursory glance around the room (which, at this point, was still mostly empty), she deliberately walked over and sat in the seat next to mine. I will be the first to tell you that I was very irritated at this turn of events. Her husband would tell me later that she came home that evening and told him that she sat next to "a scary girl with lots of tattoos and piercings." She told me later that she wasn't sure at the time what made her sit next to me (as it turns out, she's also the type to sit away from others in a room). Now, we both agree that God was definitely at work.

Over the course of the 8 week training class and the ensuing 4 month training unit, we became nearly inseperable. I jokingly described her to my other friends and family as "just like me, except skinny and redheaded." We both joked that since each of us only had half a brain, we had separate halves of the same brain.

While we were getting to know one another, we soon discovered just what a small world had kept us apart until that time. Just a year and a half before, I was working part time at Shoe Pavilion. I was hired shortly after the previous manager had quit and was told that the new manager was looking for someone she could promote to the assistant manager position. As it turns out, my friend's husband was the previous manager. I also met her briefly while she was pregnant with their second child when she came into the store one afternoon. She worked at My Gym during the time when I used to take Melanie to classes. She went to high school with several people with whom I'd grown up. Better still, we grew up less than 2 miles from one another.

Still, despite all of these things that could have connected us over the previous years, it was the Kern County Department of Human Services that brought us together. She has since moved on to bigger and better things, and we don't see each other nearly as often as we did when we worked together. Despite the fact that I rarely see her these days, she is still one of the first people I turn to when I need advice or encouragement. She is the one person I know who can not only listen to my craziness without prejudice, but who can also understand exactly what I mean and how my brain operates.

In a somewhat different turn of events, I met The Boy through a couple of mutual friends. My oldest friend (I actually cannot remember a time when I was not friends with her) was bartending at a restaurant right around the corner from my new apartment. The Boy's best friend was a regular patron. Since I soon became a regular patron myself, he and I ended up as friends by default. Most people know that I don't actually remember meeting The Boy for the first time. That first meeting took place about six months before our second, much more memorable, meeting. Once we started dating, I found out all kinds of interesting things. One of my favorite connections is the fact that one of his brother's high school buddies dated my aunt while they were in high school (for those of you who didn't know, The Boy is almost 10 years older than I).

I'm still not sure how others explain these serendipitous occurrences, but I know that they're God's way of giving me what I need. I waited my whole life to find this particular breed of friend, and I value her friendship all the more because of the wait. I can't even begin to explain how perfect The Boy has been for me. I'm not, by any means, saying that we have the perfect relationship (for starters, we're both as stubborn as mules and far too used to being single), but he brought things to my life that I never knew I was missing. He was definitely worth the wait.

At Last!

I finally have regular internet access! Hooray!!! I've been waiting for this moment for over a year now. Let me tell you, while it is wonderful for Facebook, my iPhone just doesn't cut it whent it comes to blogging.

I stumbled across a fantastic deal on a brand new HP laptop, so I decided that I couldn't pass it up (even though I really want a Macbook). It's a pretty nice laptop and I'm seriously enjoying the ability to sit in the air conditioning while I surf. The Boy has a very nice computer in the office, but there's also no air conditioning in the office. There is only a/c in the living room. That makes things a little claustrophobic when we're all home...and very difficult when The Boy and I are both home and need to find someplace to sleep. When he's working, we sleep on opposite schedules, so there's no dispute. Except for days like this morning when he comes home and steals the couch, relegating me to the bedroom where I can't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time because I get so sweaty.

I have been so desperately busy lately, I haven't had time to read a blog, let alone actually update my own. I'm really hoping that things will slow down at some point and I'll be able to do more than drag a ragged breath in between activities.

The Boy, The Munchkin, and I did end up going to San Diego last month. It was a nice overnight trip. We drove down on a Sunday morning and came home Monday night after spending a full day at Sea World. The Boy drove to Anaheim and I drove the rest of the way home because he was falling asleep. I forgot how much I hate driving the Grapvine at night, mostly because of all of the idiots who insist on braking on the decline. Ugh! Overall, it was a fun trip, though. We squeezed in almost every show in the park and everyone had a blast. The only bummer was theh Shamu show. I guess after the whole "Shamu eating his trainer" issue, they're not letting the trainers actually get into the water with the Orcas. Of course, that equaled a pretty lame show. The Sea Lion show was great, though, as was the Cirque de le Mer show.

The Saturday after we went to San Diego, The Munchkin turned five. I'm very nervous about her starting school this fall. She's not used to having structure or having to do what she's told. I really hope school is good for her, though. She needs the attention to her education that she can't get at home because of The Boy's work schedule. I've tried to work with her, but she just gets an attitude and refuses to cooperate.

We had a really nice Independence Day celebration, too. We spent the evening with my mom's side of the family at my aunt and uncle's house. We had a nice potluck, quite a few fireworks, and swimming for the kids. Where they live, we could also see the shows from 2 different local country clubs, plus the neighbors on the next block were lighing off illegals, so we got a pretty fantastic show.

Anyway, I'm going to run for now. I've been awake for about 2 hours now and I'm getting rather hungry.

Seriously, now!

People really need to get with the program.

I am continuing on in my self-centric view of the world in which I act just like every other human being. (READ: The world revolves around me and my plans).

The Boy, The Munchkin, and I were supposed to go to San Diego for a few days with my parents and sisters to see Greg, Linds, and Cambria and take the kiddos to Sea World.

First, there was a time when we weren't sure if The Boy's vacation time was going to be cancelled. Then, he had financial issues so he's not going after all. That means that I need to either find a way to go myself or miss out on the kiddos' first time at Sea World. I will not spend several days in a hotel room with my parents and sisters and I really don't want to spend several days in a small apartment with my brother and sister in law. Ugh.

Anyway, tonight I was planning on getting out and having some fun. My friend Stef invited me to go see a Led Zeppelin cover band that's playing at Fish Lips tonight. The cover was kind of outrageous, but it sounded like fun...especially since I can't go out of town like I wanted to on account of Mother's Day. I figured I'd celebrate the weekend with some dinner and drinks and good rock n roll. That is, until Stef texted me to say that the new bartender called in (again, for the second Friday in a row) and she'll be working a double. She won't even get off work until at least midnight. So there goes my plans for forgetting my troubles for while.

Instead, I'm looking at a night spent in my house, probably contemplating organization and doing very little. Perhaps I'll drink a bottle of wine. Probably, though, it'll be another night of me sitting in front of the TV, drinking iced tea and eating celery sticks. Too bad there's nothing good on TV on Friday nights and I don't have cable or the internet. I'll then spend the rest of the weekend (with the possible exception of Mother's Day itself when I might actually be too busy for self pity) missing The Boy and wishing I had a life outside of work and lying on either his couch or mine.

Have I mentioned I feel like my stomach is eating my insides alive? I've had incessant heartburn of the extremely uncomfortable variety and have been living on Peppermints and Tums. I actually keep root beer by the bed or couch when I'm asleep so I can wake up and drink something that will calm my stomach and hopefully ease the acid that usually makes me feel like I'm going to throw up every five minutes.

I really wish there was more to everyday life than all these things that make me constantly stressed.

Fried Rice

3-4 c. Prepared white rice (I make it the day before and leave it in the refrigerator so it's nice and cold)
1 c. frozen stir fry vegetables (I steam them with the rice, but you can defrost them in the microwave separately)
1/2 medium white onion
2 Eggs
2-3 Tbsp Peanut Oil
1-2 Tbsp Soy Sauce
Salt
Pepper
Garlic powder

In a large non-stick skillet (or Wok if you have one), heat peanut oil. Add onions and saute for a few minutes. Add both eggs and break them up as they cook. Add the vegetables and rice and fry for several minutes. Add soy sauce, salt, pepper, and garlic powder and continue frying for a few more minutes.

I served it with cheater's Teriyaki Chicken (the frozen kind from Costco) and some fresh carrots and celery.

Depression

Holding back tears
Shortness of breath
Heart pounding in chest
Million pounds on my breast

So many questions
So many sighs
All to often I hear
A handful of lies

Inadequacy is
My middle name
Say what you will
It all sounds the same

Nights draped in shadow
Lonely and bleak
I open my mouth
Unable to speak

So here I lie
Alone again tonight
Inexcusably weak
With tears on my cheek

And the world spins on...

I find myself completely frustrated by anything and everything lately. Nothing can go the way that I want and no one follows through with the things I think they should. Yes, this is most definitely the narcissistic Bethanie speaking today.

The biggest frustration in my life right now is work. I know, you are all thinking that work is probably the most common frustration known to mankind, but, for me, the frustration comes on two fronts.

First of all, I work myself into the ground constantly and barely mange to stay ahead of the next curveball. Sometimes, I don't even manage to stay ahead and find myself spending extra hours and days playing catch up when we're hit with an unexpected project.

Secondly, I never get to see the ones I love. Sure, I get one or two nights a week with my family, but never all at once. I haven't spent any decent time with The Boy since we went on vacation. The best time we've gotten is me sitting on one end of the couch, reading, while he plays COD on the other end. I couldn't tell you the last time we had a decent conversation. Maybe this is the way relationships go? All I know is that our time together gets shorter and shorter with each passing week and I resent more and more the hours that I spend at work while he's at home and the hours he works while I try not to stay home.

The separation feeds my depression and I feel alone and unwanted. I know it's not his fault, or mine, for that matter. Maybe the weeks off and on vacation skewed my idea of how much time we should have together. Maybe I'm just being crazy. Goodness knows, I haven't been able to sleep much lately. The recurring nightmares are hell.

Even when we're together, I miss him. Is it wrong to want more than a quick kiss good morning or good night a few days a week? Am I asking too much to be allowed more than an hour or two a week of time with him?

Ready, Set, COOK!

I've been on somewhat of a cooking spree these past few days. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that The Boy has been complaining about me not cooking.

I just hate getting home from work between 5:15 and 5:45, depending on how late I work, having to fix dinner, and eat around 7 or later. I go to sleep usually around 10, so I end up feeling like I'm going to bed on a full stomach.

So, Saturday night and Sunday morning, I made a bolognese sauce to have for dinner last night, a caramel apple cheesecake, a lemon cake, and a green bean casserole for A's party on Sunday afternoon. The cheesecake and the casserole turned out divinely. The lemon cake was a little drier than I like it, mostly because I used a brand new pan and I should have kept a closer eye on it while it was baking. I used the traditional green bean casserole recipe, but I added a few strips of crumbled up bacon, which just made it SO much better. It worked out, too, because I had leftover bacon from the bolognese sauce and I was looking for a way to use it so I didn't have to freeze it.

Tonight, I'm making meatloaf. I'm stealing an idea from a cooking show I watched on Public Television the other day and I'm adding sauteed baby portabella mushrooms, sauteed leeks, and some finely grated parmesan cheese to the meatloaf. I'm excited to see how it turns out. I'm also going to make a pot of rice and vegetables so I can make fried rice for my dinner tomorrow since it'll just be me and I've been craving homemade fried rice. I might need to get some more eggs, though.

I've been having the oddest dreams lately. I woke up out of a dead sleep around 4 this morning because I dreamt that I got a phone call from the clerical supervisor at work (not even my supervisor or another supervisor), asking if I was going to be in by 6:30 because everyone else in my unit had called out sick. I also had a dream that I was pregnant. I've heard that when you dream that you're pregnant, it usually means there's a big change coming in your life...I'm not sure what that could be at this point, but we'll see. It's proven mostly true when I've dreamt in the past that I was pregnant.

I've had the most killer heartburn for the past few days. I'm hoping it'll go away with liberal application of yogurt and Tums. Of course, it probably doesn't help that I'm sitting here eating leftover spaghetti bolognese as I write this...but it tastes even better the next day! My mom always used to take leftover spaghetti and heat it in a pan with canned chili beans and make chili spaghetti. It was a childhood favorite, but I'm pretty sure that would ruin my enjoyment of this sauce.

Anyway, I'll stop raving and give you the approximation of my recipe. :)

Bolognese Sauce (remember, almost all of my measurements are approximate!)

1 1/2 lb ground meat (I used turkey and recommend something equally low in fat)
3 slices of thick cut bacon, cut into 1/2-1" pieces
2 med-lg carrots, diced
2 med-lg celery stalks, diced
1 med-lg yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 c. milk
1 c. white wine (I just used some Sauvignon Blanc that I had on hand)
1/4 c. tomato paste
1 (29 oz) can tomato sauce
2 c. chicken stock
2 bay leaves
Oregano
Thyme
Basil
Salt
Pepper

In a heavy saucepan or dutch oven, cook bacon until crisp.

Add carrots, celery, onion, and garlic and sweat vegetables until they're tender.

Add meat and brown

Stir in tomato paste until evenly distributed

Add wine and 1 c. of milk. Simmer until it's reduced by 1/2.

Add tomato sauce, bay leaves, and chicken stock and season to taste.

Simmer while stirring every 20 minutes or so until sauce has reduced by almost 1/2 and is thick.

Stir in 1/2 c. of milk.

I almost always use milk in my spaghetti sauce because it cuts the acidity of the tomato sauce. I really liked that the natural sugar in the carrots was enough to counteract the bitterness of the canned tomato sauce and I didn't end up having to add any extra sugar. With the sauce from this recipe and a little over 1 lb of spaghetti noodles, I had enough spaghetti to feed myself, The Boy, and The Munchkin last night, for lunch today, and probably another dinner and lunch later this week. I haven't tried, but I think the sauce would probably freeze pretty well, also.

Happy Eating!

Ah, vacation

Can I just say that last week went by waaaay too quickly?

I was on vacation from the 29th until yesterday. The Boy and I took The Munchkin, her mom, and her 2 half siblings to Disneyland and California Adventure from the 29th-31st. We came home on the 1st after stopping at the Ontario-Mills outlets and doing some shopping. Disneyland was fun, but I was certainly glad to be back home on Thursday. We spent the rest of the week lounging around and doing absolutely nothing.

Easter morning, The Boy and I woke up sick. He had a cold and I had a headache, so we just laid on the couch and watched movies and TV all day.

I picked up some neat things at the Disney outlet store and the Disney store in Ontario. Mostly, I found cute things for Chloe, but I managed to dig up a cute tote bag for Mel and a few things for myself. I also got at least one good picture of The Boy and myself.

He did not propose...which I already knew. Of course, that means that a couple of people owe me some money. :)

I had planned on working on his back yard this weekend because I really want to plant a vegetable garden, but that didn't happen either. If I don't get stuff planted this year, I'll get my fence in and start a mulch pile there this summer.

This weekend is the Scottish Games and The Battle of the Badges. I'm excited because I heard that Whiskey Galore is going to be back at the Games this year and I've never been to Battle of the Badges before. The Boy is getting tickets from someone at his work, so we're going to go after we spend the day at the Games.

I'm looking forward to going to San Diego with my mom and the girls in June, too. Hopefully, The Boy and The Munchkin will also be going, so we can have a relatively relaxed vacation. Chloe and The Munchkin have never been to Sea World, and Mel hasn't been since she was 2 or 3 years old, so I'm looking forward to being there for their first experience. Plus, there's the added benefits of being able to threaten them with a dunk in the shark tank (or Shamu's tank) if they misbehave. :-p

Back to work hasn't been as horrific as I expected, but I'm still playing catch up. Plus, they stuck me with a newbie to job shadow me all day. I feel bad because I'm working at full speed in an attempt to get back on top of things and she hasn't had any training, so I have to explain every detail to her and hope she can follow me.

I have high hopes that I'll be caught back up by the end of this week. We'll see how that works out.

Anywho, I'm definitely planning on getting my house clean this week after The Boy goes back to work. On Wednesday or Thursday, I'm absolutely having a margarita night with the girls. We ALL need it. I'm also going to attempt to get The Boy to go to Home Depot with me this weekend and pick up a new faucet for his kitchen sink so I can finish cleaning his house. I just need to get the bathtub and kitchen cleaned and some dusting done. I need to borrow a painting mask from my dad before I do the dusting, though, because I am not planning on making myself sick from a massive allergy attack like I did the last time I cleaned his house.

I might actually get some more stuff done around there when he goes to Vegas again next month. He'll only be gone for 2 days, though, so we'll see.

Such is life

Well, this past weekend wasn't a total cleaning bust. :) I got The Boy's house almost entirely cleaned (except for The Munchkin's room and the kitchen), but didn't get anything done at my house. I actually ended up staying at his house for almost the whole weekend.

On Saturday, I took a break to have lunch and see Alice in Wonderland with Stef. If you haven't seen it, GO NOW! We had lunch at Que Pasa (which was wonderful), a beer, and a shot of Jager. We stopped at Magoo's and split a pitcher of beer before I dropped her off. On Sunday, after spending a grueling morning cleaning The Boy's house, I called Stef and we had lunch again. This time with a couple of friends. We went to Chili's and had a blast (and got a little tipsy) despite the fact that we had the worst service I've ever had.

Tuesday was a miserable day...it got slightly better when I got off work and got to spend the evening with The Boy and Munchkin down at A's house where we hung out and ate dinner. Thanks to The Munchkin's mom (who decided to take The Munchkin for the night), The Boy and I also got to have some alone time. That was nice. :)

Let me just say that I am completely and utterly amazed on a very consistent basis by how much I love this Boy. Seriously. It blows my mind. He takes such amazing care of me...spoils me rotten, if the truth be known. I can't wait to spend some more time with him in the next 2 weeks. When he gets off work on Sunday, he'll have lots of time off and we'll be able to make up for the mess our schedules have made of our routine over the past few weeks. This weekend, instead of being able to spend a little bit of time with him on Friday afternoon, I have to work and take the car to A so he can look it over. On Saturday, I'm going to Ventura for the day with mom, grandma, and the aunts. I'm looking forward to our girls' day out, but I'm going to miss hanging out with The Boy on Saturday afternoon...especially since he's taking The Munchkin and her sister to a birthday party.

Oh yes, I have turned into a blethering, pathetically sappy girl. Haha. It kind of makes me sick...until I remember that he's totally worth the crap I get from friends and family. :)

Yay! Weekend!

I decided to inform someone that they forgot the section on our new, mandatory "Daily Production Reports" that requires us to write down how many times we used the bathroom, whether we pissed or crapped, and how many squares of toilet paper we used to wipe. I think maybe I'll email my boss on Monday with that info.

In other news, I'm extremely glad it's Friday, even though it means The Boy is leaving for Vegas tomorrow and I won't see him until Tuesday when he gets back into town. Of course, anything seems bearable when one is sitting at one's favorite bar sipping Newcastle (as I currently am).

Last night also made the day better since I spent the evening at J's house having margaritas, shrimp, and cream puffs with two awesome ladies. :)

Agenda for this weekend includes lunch with Stef, Alice in Wonderland in 3D with Stef and another friend, laundry, and cleaning my house and attempting to clean The Boy's house as much as possible. We'll see how far I make it since I have to clean up some at my house as well. My bathroom sink and shower have been staring at me accusingly every morning when I get ready for work.

I'm also going to do laundry at The Boy's house simply because I can watch movies on his ginormous TV while I fold. Haha. Of course, I have to finish his and The Munchkin's laundry first.

I am exhausted.

Last night, because The Munchkin was having a rough day (Kindergarten shots will do that, ya know) and I needed to spend some more time with them, The Boy and I picked up Mel and Chloe and took them and The Munchkin to John's Incredible Pizza.

I was slightly dreading the crowds and rude children whose parents refuse to control them, but it turned out rather well. I spent about the same amount of money as I usually do when I take my sisters out someplace, but we walked away with a bunch of cheap prizes and good memories (which are not so cheap). The place was almost empty and we had so much fun that, when I realized it was 20 minutes to 9:00 on a school night, I kinda flipped out and rushed us out of there. Haha.

Turns out, my mom wasn't concerned with me keeping the girls out past their bedtime, so I don't feel too badly about it.

Tonight, The Boy goes back to work. It's his short week, but my long one, so I normally wouldn't get to see him until Saturday afternoon. This weekend, he's leaving for a guys' trip on Saturday afternoon and won't be back until Tuesday. :( Hopefully, I'll get to see him on Tuesday night for a little bit. Otherwise, I won't get to see him until the following Sunday afternoon because I'm working on my flex day (next Friday) and I'm going out of town for a girls' trip on Saturday.

Work is driving me nuts, as per usual. My supervisor seems to really enjoy making us miserable and treating us like garbage. He's gone at least one day a week. Plus, there's the fact that he's never available to us when he's actually here we actually DO need something from him. Go figure. I'm thinking very seriously about requesting to transfer to another division. I don't really want to go to another unit within this division because I'd like the experience of working in another division. I don't really want to go to intake, but Cash Aid might be a change of pace. I don't care how needy the clients or involved the cases, I'd commit some very serious crimes against humanity to have a caseload under 400. Thankfully, with the addition of J to the unit, our caseloads went down by almost 100 cases each. That means that my caseload is only almost double the recommended size, not almost triple.

Oh noes! Ejamakayshun threat!!!

So, it turns out that the "suspicious" package that ended my workday early and spent hundreds of tax dollars in police, fire, EMT, and bomb squad staff was just a box of wildlife videos.

I wonder if that's media code for "porn." That seems more likely, considering our clientele.

Can I just quit my job and be a bum?

Since our supervisor wasn't at work again today, and Thursday is the day of the Supervisor Staff Meeting for our division, we had another supervisor (who used to supervise my unit before I ended up over here) come and tell us about what was decided.

Since we're apparently not far enough behind, we now have to write down the name and case number of every case that we touch throughout the day. The reports have to be turned in at the end of every day. Can I just say that this is not going to help with my goal of being caught up by the end of the month?

I already know there's no way I'm going to be able to stay current on that during the 9 to 12 hours that I'm here every day. I'm going to have to figure out a faster way. Or just start making things up.

I love how, working for the county, means that you get lumped in with everyone else as a worker. Never mind that I'm actually close to caught up, that I've been spending most of my time helping others catch up, and that I've started lying about how much work I get done on a daily basis so they won't keep giving me more than I can handle.

I just had a conversation with a coworker about how ridiculous this is. If they're trying to bring up certain people's production, CONFRONT THEM. Let the supervisors handle them. If the supervisors are unwilling or unable to handle their bad workers, then maybe something should be done about the supervisors. But, because we work for the government and the government is not willing to hurt anyone's feelings or single anyone out, we all get lumped together and punished.

I'm so sick of this crap.

In an even more frustrating turn of events, we had a bomb threat today. So we spent over an hour after lunch standing in the parking lot before they found out that it was going to take at least 4 hours to clear the building so they sent us home. While it's nice to have half the day off, it means I'm going to be even more behind on Monday.

Darn kids!

Last night, while I was waiting for the rice to finish cooking for dinner, I was sitting on the couch at my house with The Boy and The Munchkin. The Munchkin was sitting on my lap when she poked my stomach and told me, "Bethanie, you have a fat belly."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep, I think you're going to have a baby."

"No way."

"Uh hu! You're going to have a baby."

I almost died laughing. The Boy missed the entire exchange and I had to repeat it to him. I don't think he found it as funny as I did. Haha.

Can I just say...

I am completely addicted to Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos?

I've always been the kind of person who'd rather have something salty and crunchy than something sweet (with the exception of chocolate and ice cream), but I've always HATED Cheetos. Until now.

There's just something wonderfully delicious about this particular brand of incredibly unhealthy snack. Every time I see them on sale (I'm far too cheap to buy chips at full price), I MUST buy at least 2 bags. Then, I promptly hide one in the back of my "snack basket" on the top of my refrigerator so that I'm not tempted to eat them too quickly.

It's like an obsession. A disgustingly delicious obsession.

Anyone wanna place a bet?

About 2 weeks before Valentine's Day hit, several of my friends started saying that The Boy was going to propose o Valentine's Day. I knew he wasn't, but the idea of taking bets never occured to me until I said something to him that weekend. Since the same people are now telling me he's going to propose on my birthday (the end of this month and also the first day of our Disneyland vacation), I've decided I'm taking bets. :)

On Friday night, I stopped by his place on my way between work and the bar and ended up helping The Munchkin get ready because they were running late. She was putting her shoes on with her older sister standing there. I was turning her jacket right side out when she asks "Bethanie, are you going to marry my daddy?" I almost choked on my gum. Haha. I told her she'd have to ask her daddy that question and then turned around before I started cracking up.

So, apparently, even his five year old daughter expects us to get married (although, I have a sneaking suspicion that The Munchkin-and later her sister's-questions were the result of someone opening their mouth...I have a few ideas of who it might be). Maybe The Munchkin will place a bet? :-p

Last night, The Boy was having a text message converstion with Mel about a boy. When The Boy told Mel to send him said boy's phone number, she told The Boy that he's like her brother and she knows how that works (she's right, The Boy would probably scare the poor little middle school boy to death). Mel has already told me I need to marry The Boy because she's tired of saying "my sister's boyfriend" and "my sister's boyfriend's daughter" when "brother in law" and "niece" are so much easier. I definitely recall some laughter-induced tears about that conversation. lol.

The amazing part to me is that so many people are chomping at the bit for me to marry him (the kids I understand...time is a different concept for them). Yes, we got serious kind of quickly, but we've only been together for 3 months! Will my feelings be hurt if he proposes anytime soon? Of course not. But, by the same token, I'm also completely okay with him waiting for a while.

I am, however, taking bets. You can call, text, or email me if you want in. :)

You want me to do what?

Today, I am "most seriously displeased," to quote Lady Catherine DeBourgh.

First off, I woke up far too early. I don't care what planet or part of the country you're from, 0230 is not an acceptable wake up time. To add insult to injury, I was already well into my day by the time my alarm went off at 0500.

I made it to work, greeted by the ever-increasing mess that I am now convinced IS my desk and not just ON my desk. Since it is the last week of the month, I have back to back appointments from 0800 to 1700. That means that I get to attempt to squeeze the rest of my work (which is usually enough to keep me busy on its own from 0700 to 1700) into the hour before my appointments start and the hour after I've - ideally - finished with said appointments.

But wait! I really only have the first hour of my day because, for the last hour, I'm required to do someone else's work. Now, don't get me wrong, I am usually one of the first to volunteer to help another worker if my own work is caught up, but my caseload hasn't been caught up since OCTOBER. Meanwhile, I'm helping other people do their work and my caseload is quickly passing the point of no return.

Do our wonderful upper management take workloads into consideration while they gleefully pile more and more work onto the stack of "priorities" they've given us? Apparently not, otherwise they would realize that there is no humanly possible way to work a caseload that is more than three times the size it's supposed to be and complete the other miscellaneous reports and tasks that keep flowing in by the truckload.

I took this job because I wanted to feel like I was helping people (and because I couldn't afford a 120 mile round trip commute), but I am feeling more and more like I can't even help myself out of this hole our wonderful administration and Board of Supervisors (whom I shall henceforth refer to as BS, because that's pretty much the only thing that results from their meetings) have dug us.

Which brings me to the union. Many people have said I have no right to complain about the union because I am not a full union member and refuse to pay more than the required $13 or so bi-weekly. The reason, however, that I am not a union member is because I know them for the snakes they are. Where was the union when the Department forced us to change our work schedules and refused to approve any vacation time (even to those whose vacation hours exceeded the county's limit) for 6 months? Where was the union when the county lied about how we're paid at the same level as other counties in California because they didn't look at those of us who have to pay for our benefits and retirement? I can tell you that the union surely wasn't there at contract time in 2007 when we got shafted in benefits and raises.

The rumor is that the BS is asking for us to take a 20% pay decrease this year and for us to pay more for our health insurance. If they do, I don't think the union will do anything to try and stop it, because when the BS says "jump," the union asks "how high?"

I can tell you one thing, though, if they approve a decrease that massive, I'll be out of here so quickly, their heads will spin. I'll go back to school and live on student loans and financial aid for a year or so until I have my degree, and then I'll find a better job someplace else.

The S Word

So the other day, I'm spending the evening at my parents' house. After being utterly disappointed by the fact that there was no more leftover SOR (Slop On Rice...a delicious concoction of ground beef, sour cream, cheese, and cream of mushroom soup served over steamed rice), I decided I was going to get Chinese food at the cheap little place around the corner from my parents' apartment.

Since Melanie was staying over at a friend's house, I decided I'd take Chloe with me as a little special treat because she always wants to go everywhere with me anyway.

The Chinese place is right next to Food Maxx and, as we're pulling out of the parking space, Chloe looks at the EXIT sign above the doorway to Food Maxx and says, "I can spell 'exit' without looking at that sign!" (Her latest thing has been spelling EVERYTHING because she's crazy good at it...kind of how I was at her age, before spell check destroyed my brain).

When she's done spelling "exit" while looking away from the building, I cover her eyes with my free hand and tell her to spell "enter." She does. Then, I spot a man in a bright coloured t-shirt and tell her to spell "shirt."

She quickly spells "S-H-I-T." Yes, that is what she spelled, not a typo.

Trying my absolute hardest not to burst into laughter and incur the myriad questions I know would follow my outburst, I tell her that she forgot a letter. Since she likes to try and guess before she actually thinks about how the word sounds, it took her a couple more tries before she got it right.

I drive on in relative silence until we get to the street. As I'm turning onto the cross street before my parents' street, I hear a half snort/half chuckle from the seat next to me. Then I hear "I spelled a bad word!"

I couldn't contain myself at that point, I laughed until tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was parked in front of my parents' garage. Where do kids come up with this stuff? I didn't even know that word existed until I was almost a teenager, let alone that it was a bad word.

I have a NEW BLOG!!!

For all of you who've been harrassing me left and right to continue blogging, I am BACK! Haha!

As of now, there isn't much to report. I'm currently stealing The Boy's computer to update my iPhone while The Munchkin comes in to ask what I'm doing every five minutes.

It's a good night. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow much, since The Boy has to go back to work sometime and I won't get to see him again until Saturday and I won't see The Munchkin until Sunday. But, I'm determined to power through this horrific week...and try not to punch my boss in the face in the meantime.

Wish me luck!