Cause For Pause... and Then Celebration

After being called within the first group of 50 jurors, then having my name drawn to sit in the jury box all morning and afternoon through the selection process, I was not chosen to be one of 12.
I was also excused period! I could not be any happier. The trial was a murder case... but no ordinary murder. It was perhaps [as they put it] one of the most "GRISLY" murders in state history.

I guess nobody wants the horrified, hysterical, emotionally-charged, pregnant woman on that sort of jury. This was the disembowelment of an elderly woman 20 years ago - where the person responsible had apparently thrown this lady's organs against the wall. I can safely say I think the trial is in perfectly capable, not-pregnant-not-me hands. And here below is a link to some of the news coverage I would have been sworn not to conduct this internet search for [truly, the journalist puts it mildly calling his coverage graphic - mildly compared to what was talked about today]. Holy disturbing. No. No. And thank you. No.

Cold Case File: The 1989 Murder of Audrey Harris

Can Do Tude

Nothing like an expected week of day-time sideline to catapult me forward to action. Who knows if I will even be downtown past Tuesday, but the idea of objection your honor all week made me tap into a reserve of energy I'm still not sure I had. I am utterly pooped out of my mind. So, I'll just share several pictures to tell the story for me. The baby nursery needed better texture and paint. So, a light fresco-ish application of joint-compound and clean, creamy wall-color will be the final product.

Using the spoons God gave me: [Again with the Paula Dean-isms]

Wondering why Brent thought this angle was a good idea:


Pretty sure Adele makes most things worthwhile: [if you do not have her album, get it. Right now. ADELE: 19]

We had a dead tree:

Brent had a captive audience: [cute I might add. And cute how COOL they think Dad is with a chainsaw]

Hello. Hello. Do you like my hat? I do! I like that party hat! Goodbye. Goodbye.

Fire wood: [not including the kid]

The nursery is primed. Zero VOC/Low Odor primer wasn't zero-odor, but it was only about 77 degrees out, so I had the window wide open the whole time. I will take pictures of the progress and final product once I figure out how I got this much done.

Rotten Civics

Way'll: "Well" said Paula Dean-style from ma keetchin tu'yerz, y'aaaall... even though I'm not a big fan of Paula's. Now, Giada? I've met Giada. And I have a major straight-girl crush on Giada. That girl can CHOP!
Anyway, my point. I've had better luck in my life. This afternoon, I was given the option to reschedule to be on a jury four-weeks postpartum or just get it over with now. I rescheduled and then came to my nut-job senses. I'll be getting this over with, thank you.

Believe it or not, this is a rather easy way to lug a baby around if I have to be lugging a baby around. A four-week-old is hungry, poopy, tired or all three. And apparently the powers that be take my civic duty seriously... as they should. They might *want* me weighing all the evidence. After all, I'd venture to say I have a higher IQ than the larger portion of the felon's "peers" [not to toot my own brain, but it's probably true].

See, I don't come up with unreasonable doubt. I don't consider: "Well, maybe the giant load of marijuana fell from the sky as the guy was tripping over a wrinkled rug and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when it fell into his lap while simultaneously having his door slammed in by the narcs. Gravity can be a real bitch." or... "Maybe he had several coke-dusted gram scales for truth-in-advertising purposes. I'm sure you'd want to make for darn sure that your dime-bag purchase is indeed a complete dime-bag. Nobody likes to be ripped off! Dealers are shaaaaady! I would walk around with a coke-dusted gram scale and weigh everything if I were a junkie. I'd need to know I was getting my money's worth... not at all concerned that I had my glorious "FIX" within seconds of my salivating orifice. I'm not sure he's trafficking since he wasn't even in the same room with the most giant rock of crack cocaine I or you have ever seen when he was busted." - Among quite a few substantial points favorable for a guilty verdict, these and many more were the "reasonable doubts" of other jurors we depend on in our criminal-justice system. I feel safer all the time after that first experience on a jury.

I'm sure I'll have a lot to say after I'm not bound by law to be hush hush - especially if I'm anywhere as BULLIED into a not-guilty vote on the larger charge: [trafficking in that case], but guilty on possession charges since those chicken-turds couldn't live with being responsible for this thug's fate with all their doubts and all [trafficking carries a heftier sentence] ... So, if you ever wonder and feel outraged about spending tax-payer money sustaining the life of an inmate serving ten years for possession of an illegal substance, be sure there is no such thing as a unanimous verdict; and those who want out of that room to silence their nicotine beasts had better give me something for my vote. The unfortunate part: there is always so much more to the story that somehow becomes inadmissible in court - and only after the final slam of the gavel are we allowed to ask and be informed. I was right the whole time. I cried. Probably because of how bullied and backed into a corner I felt, not really because I think this one guy behind bars really puts that big of a dent in the drug issues we face.

Maybe I won't even be chosen. Stay tuned. Funny, I was in the "please, dear Jesus, excuse me" group with my cousin, Kourtney. However, she is legitimately a med-student who needs to be absolutely, one-hundred percent present for every single solitary tidbit of information given or she'll most certainly flunk. She was excused until the end of her Spring semester.

All that to say - I was rather annoyed. And nothing makes annoyed any better than live-culture frozen yogurt...

I admittedly should not be making this face, flex my neck-muscles like that, or be photographed sitting down, but I have a rather rotund human-shelf that needs a bit of the spotlight. She can be SUCH a narcissist!


And of course, these people make everything better - yogurt or not.

A Sneaky Suspicion

This morning I went to the park and walked the big loop after dropping the boys to school. I noticed a little bunny rabbit. He wouldn't let me get any closer and my phone-cam has no zoom.

Reaching the final turn always feels great... but


Having the feeling something is watching me never does.

I Love A Monday

I’m not gonna lie. I like starting back to a fresh, new week. We had a relaxing Saturday with some of my family and a fun, kid’s birthday party that evening. I guess it’s a newish trend, instead of gifts, to give donated toys to inner-city kids in need. And I could not have thought of a better idea myself. With the new things we get from family, we don’t necessarily need nine more ninja figurines or board games with ten-million game-pieces from the birthday party. The kids had fun; and I was able to catch up with a few of the moms.

Somehow, the random, weird church experience came up in conversation. Apparently, one evening this minister thought an "open mic" time was a good idea. Anyone who felt the need could stand and share with the audience of a couple-thousand how he or she had been blessed recently. So, a man stood up to speak about feeling so blessed that he and his wife had the security within their relationship to share anything they wanted to with each other. Fine enough. But he explained further just so everyone could gain a better understanding of exactly what he meant by that. He’d been able to tell his wife about the funeral he attended of a homeless man. And his wife had been able to tell him about her best friend being MORTIFIED to have sex with her husband. But the part that was relevant was that it blessed him… recently... and so he told everyone.

And then the memory of a woman once visiting our small group a long time ago [who whipped out her giant boob to nurse her almost-three-year-old right in the middle of her tirade about political injustice] popped in to my head. And now I can’t get it out. Side note: I am in no way against breast-feeding for as long as you feel necessary, or in a modest way in public for that matter. But this was awkward. Very.

Luckily, this Sunday didn’t include any giant, arbitrary, whipped-out boobs… just a nice afternoon gearing up for a new week. Brent vacuumed - bless his ever-lovin’ soul! Something about the minor lunging involved with vacuuming pregnant leaves my left butt all tense and in knots after I’ve done as much vacuuming as he did. So, that BLESSED ME recently. While he was sweeping away, I was able to wash, fold, and put away all of our laundry. I can’t get over what a good mood it puts me in to find exactly what I’m looking for exactly where it’s supposed to be – especially underwear and socks.

You know what will put me in a bad mood?

Jury duty.

I have been summoned for jury duty. I lost sleep last night stressing about how NOT excited I am about that. I’ve got a doctor’s note and will be trying everything. However, I hear they don’t let people off that easily anymore. I might as well go in there with one of those fake head-wound rubber knife-handles sticking out of my skull, use the N word and poop in the corner. I’m not honestly sure that’d work, considering the group I served on a jury with last time I got this God-forsaken summons in the mail.

This Is Happening

Today I went to my monthly OB. I’ve gained 8 lbs since last time, folks. Yeah. Let’s just call it 4. It sounds better. And really, I’d lost 4 the previous month, so I’m only playing catch-up, right? RIGHT!?

Say it!

Anyway, I’m not honestly doing anything differently. I’m not just here all by myself all day, boys in school, eating because I’m bored. I’m without the boys all day. But I’m not usually home and I’m not bored. So, I’m not eating because of that. I’m eating because I’M HUNGRY. I had just eaten a larger breakfast than I normally do and I didn’t tinkle before stepping on the stupid, out-in-the-middle-of-the-road scale. All of that will rack up those extra four easy – especially having a scale out in the wide world. Dead serious.

But let’s move on, shall we? Let’s talk about how we got ourselves here in the first place. Not the actual way we got ourselves here, people. I’m going to assume you’ve had that education. But somewhere in the summer of 2007, I knew I had a baby fever that needed more cowbell [click the red link - then back button after]. So, but something about our time spent together that summer was all cozy and great and beckoned my empty womb to start tapping on my shoulder. And the insane idea we’d probably, eventually have just one more would creep in every once in a while.

But then, time passing happened. Both boys in school full-day was steadily on the horizon. There’d be such a gap between siblings. A larger family costs more. I had a bit of a wiggy-outish stretch of time, realizing I was turning in to an actual adult that had actual desires to do more actual things with my actual self. I decided I’d go back to school. I decided to get my crap together. Routine. That’s the name of my game. I had my path all set out. I’m a planner. I like to know what I’m getting for Christmas. I know Christmas is coming. I know you’re going to get me something. Just tell me what so I can sleep, OKAY!? And no… this is not about control. It’s about power and communism.

So, last fall I enrolled in something like six hours. I didn’t want to just flatten myself. I wanted to get my toes wet. It was a great experience. It wasn’t that big of a deal to find the admissions office or schedule an appointment with an academic advisor. I wasn’t the oldest one in class. And I did really well. So, my plan was to get the ball rolling with full-time day-time class-time this fall. But [long pause] my niece had since come into the world. And holy bat-balls, people. I’ve had other experiences with babies born that I know and love dearly. This wasn’t out of the norm. But, if you can ever fall in love with a child that isn’t your own like I fell flat on my face for this girl… Oh. My. Boiling. Baby. Fever. And it was all a big – well… her fault.



We have somewhere around twelve more weeks. It’s a girl. And it typically takes putting a face with a name to be this deeply in love with someone I’ve never met… but let me just say: I have not come down.

Did You Say Death’s Daughter?

There’s really no way to explain that title in a way that still wouldn’t require having been there. But it makes me laugh.

So, the week is only three days deep and it feels as if I’ve lived somewhere around a week and four-and-a-half days... exactly. Everyone has been thrilled to be in school. It’s a new routine and not quite so overwhelming now that we’ve seen for ourselves – it’s not that serious. For some reason, both boys thought they were going to be jumping from their last year straight in to their sophomore year at a major university. I mean, I’m glad they take it seriously, but the pressure is just unnecessary. As we got in the car after day one, my Kindergartner was so glad it turned out to be a really great day, however, he was “already stressed out about two recesses” – verbatim.

What's Up

This made my day even better than it already was

For Goodness Sake

By Wednesday this week, I had come to my wits end. It, uh, looks really high-up from the end of a wit - pretty quiet at those kinds of altitudes with the sound of whistling wind coming to the foreground. Not a lot of life-forms with the low "oh-two"… and rather dangerous with no chance to acclimate.

Somehow, the antibiotic my child started cracked a window in to the spirit world, allowing Satan’s spawn to set up camp and suck the very life out of me – the host-being’s mother. When I previously typed a light-hearted Carl Douglas: “Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting” doot dee doo [referring to how well things returned after only one dose of amoxicillin], we were actually having UFC no-holds-barred sessions with our little brother – who – can be pretty tough, but this was OUT. OF. HAND.
Finally, after they refused to “hug it out”, I found the first thing I could to tie them together… and did. It didn’t really work. For several reasons.

But, well after being released from Twine Pokey, I decided since Wednesday night was our last to be able to stay up late as school began Friday, we were going to bake a batch of brownies, have ice cream with yummy toppings and watch a movie together. So, we set out to get the necessary goodies. We got all the way to the back of the grocery store – homestretch – freezer section – when the UFC came back on. With a lump in my throat, I could have thrown a fit of my own. But I abandoned shopping-cart instead and didn’t announce I was leaving my children to snap out of it or be left behind. They snapped out of it. I was… thrilled [the kind of thrilled where you’re half-way hoping they are left to realize, only later that I hadn’t actually left, that I LEFT!!!]. We watched no movie that night.

Thursday was full of last-minute back-to-school errands. We were able to run by the school for a come-and-go meet-the-teacher/say-hello-to-last-year’s-teacher-and-best-librarian-the-face-of-the-earth-has-to-offer [no joke, people. If you don't have our librarian, YOU ARE MISSING OUT and now you know it]. I’ll wait a moment while you pull it together...

As we stopped in to our classrooms, we took the opportunity to put away our school-supplies, found where we’d be sitting and who next to, and came away with the most unbelievable sense that this year would be our best experience so far. And all others were best so far, so… it’s hard to beat a best so far with a best so far. I cannot get over these women who’ve been selected to teach the boys this year. I am truly pumped.

And of course, after counting on a rather unrelenting school-night turn of bed-time events, Thursday evening became a much-needed-fun dinner out with some of the boys’ buddies and their families, ninja-quick baths and melt-down picking out what to wear in the morning. We double and triple-checked the clock-radio, tucked everyone snug as a bug in a rug, packed lunches with little dorky notes from mom on the napkins and tried to get good sleep.

8am Friday: The day is upon us.

The seasoned pro was a little nervous, but rock-steady. In fact, I didn’t have a clue he felt nervous until the car-ride to frozen yogurt after school.



And the not-so-seasoned pro had sudden second thoughts after we arrived to SO MANY others having their third and fourth thoughts by the time we’d just started on our second! He had to catch the heck up!!

A Little Handful

There is something to be said about a person who can see me how I want to be seen. I would think it’s safe to say it’s easy to be nice to people, to get a laugh, or pay a genuine complement.

But when there is an even deeper comfort-level, I feel a liberty to be more of myself. And I can be blunt. Despite my best efforts, I have botched a delivery or ten of unsolicited thought. I have confided my more mentally retarded mistakes. And I’ve unintentionally hurt feelings, I’m sure.

But these few gems, my inner circle… we laugh until our cheeks hurt – explosions of hilariousness so potent it is sometimes necessary to have a sudden seat on the ground to keep the immediate splash of pee from turning into a full-on pool.

There is genuine concern when our pets go to the emergency vet. We track down the moving truck at a highway gas station to get one last tearful hug. We pray the most intimate prayers and mourn the loss of yet another pregnancy. We lose sleep if one of our marriages is in trouble or comes to an end. We rearrange living room furniture and accessorize the bookshelves together. We always pick up where we left off.

We have inside sayings like “Dear Cheeses!”…“Oh my gosh, BONER!”… “Do you know? ~ The muffin man?”…“It’s like a high-five from the Lord!”…”That’s nacho cheese!”… “BLANCO team work on 3!!” … There are refrigerator rights at each other’s homes. We stay up late polishing off a giant bottle of wine or bum a bite off each other’s plate. We might be related in one way or another, or might as well be. We lift each other up, love each other’s families and realize the kindred spirit.

You become a network of safety for me. You can see my shortcomings, neuroses and quirks and still I will come away from being around you feeling solid about who I am. If it takes me a thousand tries, I will return the favor in cupcakes if I have to, because you are necessary to my life.

Stranger Things Have Happened… no seriously.

Turns out, I have things to write about. So far just random thoughts. This is typical though. I think aloud – sometimes leaving my children scratching their heads wondering who the heck I’m talking to. I need a watch battery. I can’t remember what one thing I forgot at the grocery store… but I don’t think it was a watch battery.

I'm curious what Martha Stewart is really like. Surely no one show or story encompasses what someone is truly like 100% if the time. Recently she answered a few questions from the audience directly...“You don’t have a P-Touch!? You use masking tape to label things? No no, you should have a P-Touch. EVERYONE SHOULD HAVE A P-TOUCH so you can know which grinder you use for coffee and which you use for herbs!”. Is she really so rigid? I felt badly for the girl who asked in the first place. I would think you could just stick your nose inside the grinder lid and find out what's what? Coffee doesn’t usually smell like anything but. I do actually own a non-ptouch-label-maker. It is very handy and addictive. I don't own a grinder, however. And I still watch Martha's show sometimes.

“Not strep”? That’s what they said last time we tested for strep and found ourselves a day later staying several nights at Children’s Hospital with a serious case of pneumonia brought on by… strep. Give. Me. The. Anti. Biotics. And. No. One. Gets. Hurt.

*one dose of the ammox, and Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting [doodle doot doo doot doot doo]. So no plans to return:



I think tomorrow we'll be feeling well enough to run a few short errands. I’m feeling a little insecure about having the lady at the baby place actually put “No Giant Bows” on the gift registry. I should go in and have her edit that out. I don’t want to seem like a PREGZILLA. That should be a show.

Fiesta Says It Besta

The weekend went... I guess... like any other.

Friday afternoon my mother called from Ann Taylor Loft in a wardrobe jam - the source: a date - and the idea of having to decide what to wear was somewhat nerve-racking. So, I went over to ATL to give a thought or two on outfit options.

Then, Saturday morning Brent decided to single-handedly hoist a rather large television armoire into the back of what I might call an unreliable vehicle. However, it did the trick. I was tired of looking at the perfectly great armoire that had no place in our new home. I had all sorts of plans for that thing - repurpose-natured - but after a year of trying new ideas and failing, it became a monstrosity with lots of miscellaneous crap inside I was sick of asking Brent to do something with. Things like... crafty scraps or the random ammunition-reloading supply. Scissors... ya know, gun powder scales. Brent does also tie fly-fishing flies. He's not a gun-wielding, animal-stalking murderer. He's outdoorsy. That's all. And he's incredibly ethical about it, too. :)

So. Armoire. Inevitably alot of our more hobbyish remnants found their way inside the cavity of the thing. Brent emptied it, dusted it, and lifted it into the back of the truck he borrowed from my brother, drove it 40 miles to his aunt's house - and voila. No more giant armoire in the way of my ... corner.

I'm not terrible help or anything. I'm just 25 or so weeks pregnant. So, heavy lifting is not in the cards for me right now. I CAN NOT *wait* to get back to all the bodybuilding.

Finally - today, I woke to one kid on the couch with what I'd guess is strep. We'll go in the morning for a throat culture. But we spent most of our day in front of the boob-tube compromising between rerun after rerun on Disney and regular runs on Food Network.

Then this evening, I left the sick dude at home with Brent to go celebrate the 39th birthday of our friend, Wiser. He's married to one of my dearest friends and it was a great time had by all. Delicious Mexican things from a little place I won't be able to get copies of recipes from (I'm ending a sentence fragment with a preposition, I know). I'm a little bummed about that - the no recipe part AND ending with prepositions. But I will just have to go buy my own portions of goods it seems.

And now. I have officially. Started a blog.