Bird needs a haircut and other bits of information

So, after another trip to Urgent Care and many, many hours waiting to see a bona-fide opthamologist and a series of three waiting rooms full of elderly people with cataracts, my husband is fine, his sight has been restored, and the eye patch has been retired until the next ocular tragedy or costumed holiday, whichever comes first.

I'm still looking for the camera cable so I can share a photo or two. Our little catch-all office area is still a shambles but a more, uh, planned shambles, as we now have some actual piles of things that might really go together after we build the shelves we've promised ourselves. A. has separated all of "his" stuff from "my" stuff... editing and video and random cables and hard drives and nerds-only equipment over here, teeming piles of shit to be shredded, shit to be reviewed, shit to be paid, and general miscellaneous shit-- oh, and the massive collection of daily finger paint masterpieces on thick construction paper--over there. Seeing as "my" computer doesn't have internet, or electricity at the moment, I'm typing this on some kind of bozo keyboard that has editing symbols and colored keys instead of letters, and I must say I'm faring remarkably well. Mrs. Gibbs (high school typing teacher-- we actually used typewriters. And corrective tape) would be proud of my mad blind typing skeels.

Anywho, just thought I'd share that I didn't make bread this week and didn't buy any either, and yet we have miraculously survived. I received my political bumper sticker of choice and continue to race home to check for my t-shirt daily, but alas, it does not arrive. I made a delicious thing from the October VT tonight that I didn't expect to be quite so delicious, but hey, we were pleasantly surprised (served it over cous cous). Birdy has declared a tolerance for cous cous, and the new kid in her class at school seems to cause her mild stress by simply existing to this point without a working knowledge of the rules and culture of her beloved Red Building. I just spent an outrageous amount of money on 2 new dog beds and the big guy still insists on sleeping in his stinky old chair, which I have a desire to un-stink and about which he has a fierce re-stinking agenda. He is more underfoot than usual tonight, like the worst version of a needy, underfoot cat, if that cat weighed seventy pounds.

And another thing: I'm pregnant. You may know that already, because you know me outside of this blog or because I've not exactly been NOT hinting about it. We're excited, we're terrified, we're freaking out about the cost of dueling childcare. We're savoring the tail end of our three-pack days and preparing for a new life-- both the literal human one that will keep us up all night and smell like a heavenly human biscuit, and the new life we'll be navigating and fumbling with as everything changes in all six of the lives that are currently being lived under our little roof. I'm due April 28, almost ten weeks along at present. I'll keep you posted.

Yahrrr

HI, excuse, excuse, eleven days no post, yawn, hello.

Friday night A. took a wicked (and completely accidental) finger jab to the eye from a certain pre-schooler I know. Over the last few days it's worsened-- ending in a trip to Urgent Care this afternoon, some magic goo, huge eye bandage and a nice black pirate-style eye patch.

This evening, making dinner, I was chopping broccoli, all like, "blah blah your mom probably just couldn't hear the phone..." and I look up and A. is looking at me like I've sprouted an extra head, so I asked, "why are you looking at me all weird?"

"Because I'm wearing an EYEPATCH."

He seems to have confused "eyepatch" with "permission to look deranged" Which, I suppose, is better than confusing "eyepatch" with something more dangerous, like "cloak of invisibility."
I would love to post a photo, but a pirate seems to have reconfigured the PC/ Mac hodge-podge up in here and I can't find the cord to make that work at the moment.

More soon, promise-- big work, big thoughts, everything big. Bigger! Better! Later!

Hi. I'm still here.

There are big things happening, y'all. I've been a bit preoccupied, a bit tired. So much to consider, so much ahead. All good things, but so complex.

Also, we've been carting our happy little asses back and forth to Indiana for all manner of family events, and we're road weary. We're deep in a laundry crisis with no way out-- let's call this a laundry quagmire-- and we've stopped unpacking suitcases, treating them like special floor storage for the clothes we wear the most. We're over-committed after work to all kinds of worthy and unworthy causes, we're spending an ass load of money on groceries because we don't have the time to be smart about what we're buying. I feel like we're living event to event to event and we're facing another trip to Indiana this weekend. Fortunately, the last until the holidays, but damn, our (paid) dog sitter is LOVING us.

Does that sound a little down? I know. It is. I'm a little down, a little overwhelmed, a little pissed off and a lot emotional. We've made some decisions I certainly don't regret but now that we're at a no-turning-back place, I'm seeing more clearly how other things (job, for one) don't fit the way I thought they could. My math isn't working out and I'm feeling so disconnected from my real life-- the lively, interesting one-- spending all this time here in my box with my tiny window. I'm itching for a change again, even though change is barreling down the path, coming right for me.
Nothing is WRONG, but still, things don't seem quite right. The nudges are becoming shoves.

And to counter all of that moping, here are the things that are oh-so-good: my funny, funny Bird becoming more herself every day, doing awesome Bird things like hollering upstairs to A to make sure he doesn't forget his "deenerant." Saying, "Let's rock out" when she's got her shoes on and ready to leave the house. Reading her books to us, teacher style, slowly moving the book in front of her body in an arc so we can see the pictures. A's startup business taking a little more shape, gaining a little more momentum. Cooler weather, a heavy garden, never needing to buy tomatoes or peppers. A house I love that is patient with me and all my neglect. Little things like new tupperware. Constant things like old smelly dogs that tolerate being covered with stickers and friends who don't care if you don't call.

A word about Pandora

I've been listening to Pandora every day at work. There are times it's like a fortune teller-- the spooky kind that tells you pieces and parts of your past with time-machine accuracy.

Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
This song brought me to my knees today, left me sitting in my gray, boxy office catching my breath. Had to stop working and close my eyes, remember flying along a country road thick on both sides with tall, tall green Indiana forest in a truck with the boys I lived with, tossing seeds out the window, breathing in fresh air and freedom with nowhere to be, 21 years old and so colorful. Feel like I'm going to throw up, maybe cry. Squeeze my eyes tighter.

And then tonight, this song socked me in the stomach for a hundred other reasons.


So, if you are turbo-emotional like me at this particular crossroads of life, and don't have your wits about you enough to navigate your own ipod, I highly recommend the creepy-fabulous fortune teller Pandora for a nice, cleansing cry at a moment when you are less than prepared.