Well Excuse Me!!!

What the hell is the difference between a D+ and an F?  Apparently L thinks there's a HUGE difference between the two.  I checked her grades online and saw that she's got a 1 in Photography.  (The scoring is weird with her school.  They get a 1 to a 5 which is basically 1 = F and 5 = A.  Why they couldn't just put F through A I don't know...)  So I sent her a text asking her if she was aware she was failing that class.  She sends me a text back saying "Actually, it's a D+"  Oh, I'm sorry.  My bad.  Apparently more things have changed than the fashion from when I was in high school.  According to L a D+ isn't failing a class.  I disagree.

It kind of reminds me of that joke about the stop sign:

A man comes up to a stop sign in a residential neighborhood.  Instead of coming to a complete stop, he slows down and rolls through the stop sign.  As soon as he's through the intersection he sees the cop's lights in his rearview mirror.  The cop asks him why he didn't stop at the stop sign, and the guy says, "Well, I slowed down, and looked both ways."  The cop asks the guy to get out of the car and when the guy does the cop starts to beat him with his billy club.  The cop asks the guy, "Now.  Do you want me to slow down, or do you want me to stop?"

Yeah.  I'm full of useless crap that has no relation to what I was talking about to begin with.  I think I need a glass of wine tonight...

Huff and Puff and Blow Us Away

It was supposed to be the 2nd worst storm in Chicagoland history in nearly a Century.  I think they need to re-evaluate that title.  We were supposed to get what the weather stations were calling The Chicago Cyclone which was to include winds so strong they could overturn fully loaded semi-tractor trailers.  We got wind, but I didn't see any wind around here that would call for the state of emergency some people were preparing for. 

Today was supposed to be windy as well but not nearly so windy as yesterday.  They lie.  At least for this portion of the state.  We're MUCH more windy here today than yesterday.  I have siding coming off my house for goodness sake!  And since last night was garbage night, we live in a culdasac (I don't even know how to spell that!!), and we have the longest side yard which includes a wooden fence running the length of it - we have a recycling can full of garbage that has blown up against our fence as well as empty garbage cans from several neighbors.  Luckily they all had addresses spray painted on them so M was able to return them.

K called me from school today to see if I could ask my friend, Melissa, to make her fondant for school.  What?!  Really?  Yes.  Really.  Apparently K "volunteered" to bring in orange fondant for her Life Sciences class.  (Why can't they just call it Home Ec like we did?  How is Life Sciences more politically correct or whatever?)  Anyhow - I didn't even bother to ask Melissa to make it, but I did ask her how difficult it is to make.  She sent me a recipe for Marshmallow Fondant which she said was easier than regular fondant.  I don't see how!  Yes, there are only three ingredients in the Marshmallow Fondant, but the steps required to complete it?!  Oh my...  Never mind!  K called later today to see if I'd talked to Melissa.  I just told K that Melissa didn't have time to make any.  I didn't bother to tell her about the recipe Melissa sent me, or she'd want to make it and I'd end up with marshmallow in my coffee pot somehow.

Update - The dogs no longer smell like skunk.  They now smell like racnid skunk.  Just sayin...

WHAT THE....?

As if spending yesterday evening and last night smelling skunk wasn't bad enough - my veneer just fell off!!  I was eating lunch, and suddenly I realized that my sandwich was crunchy.  A cheese sandwich isn't supposed to be crunchy!  I come to realize that my veneer is now in my mouth and not on my tooth were its resided for the last 5+ years. 

Thank GOD I have dental insurance....
(Is this week over yet?)

Duck? Check. Bird? Check. Skunk? CHECK.

I got a phone call yesterday afternoon at about 3:30 pm.  It was K and she was hysterical.  "The dogs got sprayed by a skunk!!  Tyson is foaming at the mouth!  Walker is clawing at his eyes!  The skunk isn't dead and is twitching in our backyard!  WHAT DO I DO?!?!?!?" 

I knew there was something in our backyard.  I just knew it.  Both dogs have been clamoring to get outside 3 minutes after we had let them in.  For the last 4 days.  As soon as we'd open the door they'd tear outside.  They'd run over each other to get outside.  And anyone else who was unlucky enough to be in their way.  You might not know this, but two dogs who weigh 65+ pounds each stepping on your bare feet HURTS.  Walker usually does that anyway, but 95% of the time he'll sit before I open the door and he absolutely would not do that these past few days.  Tyson never RUNS outside.  He saunters.  He's a bit overweight and can only run for short periods of time before he flops down exhausted, but he has been TEARING out the door.

I immediately got on the internet to look up how to clean a dog that's been skunked.  You may not know this but tomato juice doesn't work.  My parents had a dog, Henry, who was white.  He got skunked once, my mother bathed him in tomato juice and it didn't work.  It only made his white coat pinkish.  One cleaning method I found said douche works wonderfully.  Hmm.. That seemed like it'd be a bit expensive and a bit awkward buying enough douche to wash two dogs - one who's extremely furry.  I came across this mixture on several sites:

1 Quart Hydrogen Peroxide

1/4 Cup Baking Soda

1 Tsp Dish Soap

Mix it all together, wash the dog, let it sit on their coat for 10 minutes, rinse, and wash with regular dog shampoo.

So I headed out of work early, stopped at Walgreens, bought all the "ingredients" and rubber gloves, and headed home.  Nothing prepared me for what was waiting at my house.  Outside the front of my house all seemed ok.  As soon as I stepped into my garage I wanted to puke.  Going inside wasn't much better.  Both dogs are at the back door trying to get into the house.  Luckily K was smart enough to keep the doors and windows closed. 

K brought me up to her room so I could see the skunk - who wasn't dead - laying in my backyard.  The dogs had attacked it and had hurt it badly enough that it couldn't get away, but didn't kill it.  It was laying there with it's ass up in the air, tail straight up and STILL SPRAYING.  You could actually see the spray coming out of it's butt.  It was really REALLY gross. 

It has been too cold here to wash the dogs outside so I had to bring them inside, one at a time, to the bathroom and wash them there.  Walker was easy to do.  He's a lab and has a short coat.  I was able to wash him three times with the Hydrogen Peroxide mixture followed by two times with the dog shampoo.  Tyson is a Chow/Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix and I was only able to wash his head, chest and shoulders with the mixture before it was gone.  I didn't have any more Hydrogen Peroxide to make more.  If I had known his fur would soak up that much of the stuff I would have bought four more bottles.  You can't put this mixture on their face or muzzles because it will sting their eyes.  Guess where both dogs got it the worst?  Yup.  Their face.

I did the best I could.  Both dogs still smell, but Tyson STINKS.  I read this morning that dogs with thick fur can keep the stink on them for up to two years!!  I think I'm gonna shave him.   Below is the most recent photo I have of both dogs in one shot.  This was from Christmas last year.  The same day we took the photo that's at the top of my blog actually...

After I got both dogs washed as best as I could we went around the house lighting every candle I own in an attempt to get the stink out.  It worked pretty well.  My house may smell like a mixture of different scented candles, but it's much better than skunk.

When M came home the offending Skunk was still in the backyard, and still alive.  Unfortunately Animal Control won't come out to take care of wildlife.  You have to call a private wildlife control company to do that.  I don't have the money for that.  I was hoping that the stupid thing would die on it's own.  Not so.  M had to take his bow and arrows into the backyard.  I felt badly for killing the stupid thing, but what could we do?  We couldn't leave it there and I couldn't afford to call someone to come take care of it.  We had to do it on our own.  I'm just surprised that none of our neighbors called the cops on us.

I hope I never have to do this again....

Booty Shorts and Punishment

Why do kids think we're stupid?  Really?  You think I haven't done whatever it is you're trying to get away with?  Please.

K went rollerskating with some friends last night.  Two of her friends came over, they all got ready together, and one of the girls' mom picked them up from my house and took them to the rollerskating rink.  I cannot believe the clothing these girls were wearing.  One of the girls had shorts so short that if she bent over to touch her knee - I'd be seeing all she has to show.  It was a little gross to be honest.  When I went upstairs to tell them that the mom was here, I saw K was wearing short-ass-booty-shorts as well.  At least hers were jean shorts so they were a bit less likely to ride up, but still.  I told her to change her shorts before they left.  She gave me a little 'tude but I think she realized it before I got pissed, so she said "ok".  I knew right then that she'd be trying to get away with something.  I made a mental note to check her out before she left, but then the dog got into the garbage (DAMN DOG!) so I was busy cleaning that up when they walked out the door.

I knew she didn't change her shorts.  I just KNEW it in my bones.  I checked her room anyway.  I went through the pile of clothes on her floor (from them going through her drawers to find clothing), but the shorts were nowhere to be found.  She actually left the house with the shorts!!  Ok.  I knew she was going to do this but it doesn't change the fact that she actually DID it!

When she came home I snagged her before she could run upstairs.  She had on a black pair of sweat pants - the kind that come to the knees.  I went to give her a hug - and feel her bottom - and she immediately backed away.  This is a child I have to physically remove from my neck every night because she LOVES to cuddle.  (Personally I'm not a cuddler.  I can't stand it when people want to hang on me.  Give me a hug?  Fine.  Hold on for longer than 5 seconds and I can't wait to get away from you.  It's just the way I am.)  I knew immediately that I definitely wasn't wrong.  So I did what any mother would do - I grabbed her pants and yanked.  She screamed, but then at least had the decency to look ashamed.  How could she deny it?  She was standing right in front of me with her sweat pants around her ankles and the booty-shorts on.

Her punishment is that she's grounded today after school, she has to re-clean her room from the mess they made getting ready, and she has to wash all the widows on the ground floor.  This may not seem like a big punishment, and in theory it's really not because we only have the kitchen window, dining room window, sliding glass door, and bay window on the ground floor - however, we have two dogs who CONSTANTLY press their wet noses up against all but the kitchen window.  The result is a film over the window that is not easy to get off.  M calls it "doggy booger".  Because of this film this is a chore I despise.  There have been times where I actually got a razor blade and scraped the crap off.  It was easier than washing and washing and washing and going through an entire roll of paper towels, but I'm not letting K in on that trick.

She asked me this morning how I knew that she'd kept the shorts on under her sweats.  Duh.  I've done that before myself.  But I didn't tell HER that.

Blah...

I got a raise at work.  I don't know why.  I still don't do anything except fuck around on the computer all day.  What's that phrase?  "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth"?  Yea.  The shit's gonna hit the fan when Craig finds out.  He already thinks I'm overpaid.  I told M not to say anything to Craig at bowling on Friday, but I have a feeling it's gonna slip out somehow. 

We have two Halloween parties to go to.  One is this Saturday at Paul & Nicole's, and the other is next Saturday at Karly's.  I'm using the same costume for both and because I'm cheap, or broke however you wanna look at it, I'm making my costume again this year.  Last year I drew a big P on a green shirt, and used black makeup to make one of my eyes black.  I was a Black Eyed Pea.  This year I'm going to wear my normal clothes and hang a sign around my neck saying "Nudist on Strike".  I think it's kind of clever, but M thinks it's cheating.  This from the guy who REFUSES to dress up in a costume - until this year of course.  The one year we don't have the money to spend on a costume he's going to wear once - although I guess he'll technically wear it twice, but still.  He bought a Whoopie Cushion costume.  He looks like a gigantic hot water bag.  He thinks it's funny.  I'm not in agreement.  It's funny, just not as funny as he thinks it is.  He wants to find a fart machine to put in his pocket under the costume.  If we had the money for it, I'd tell him to make sure it's got a remote so I can make him "fart" at random times.

K wants to have a sleep over on the 30th with a bunch of friends, and I'm not sure what L's plans are yet.  She doesn't voluntarily talk to me about anything, and trying to ask her questions is like pulling teeth.

K is supposed to get her braces off in November.  I don't know how to tell her that it's not happening yet.  I have to pay off my balance first but there's NO WAY I'm gonna be able to do that in time.  I talked to the ortho and he's less than pleased, but I can't give him what I don't have.  This just goes to show why I'm so pissed at M for spending money we don't have.  He doesn't get it that $30 here and there adds up.  I don't know how to make him understand.  I've tried to put him on a budget but he always blows it and is like "meh... What are ya gonna do?"  I'm thinking about opening up my own checking account and paying off my bills.  The problem is we're too far behind on everything.  I don't know what to do...

She's a Wimp

Do you ever feel like your kids are the worlds biggest hypochondriacs?  I had to take L and K to the doctor yesterday after work for their sports physicals.  After all the usual checks (heartbeat, breathing, eyes, ears, spine, etc.) the doctor asked each girl if they had any questions.  OH. MY. GOD.  I think K was making lists in the car of ailments!  She sounded like a little old lady!  She complained that her chest hurts after doing cartwheels in gymnastics, but it doesn't hurt when she's resting.  Diagnosis - muscular pain.  Remedy - stretch better.  She then complained that her thumb hurts when she does anything in gymnastics that requires her to put pressure on her palms.  (Of course that means EVERYTHING she does in gymnastics)  Diagnosis - muscle pain.  Remedy - simple hand stretches.  Finally she complained that her eyelid twitches sometimes and doesn't stop.  At this point I wanted to crawl into the floor.

L is the only one who had a legitimate issue.  Her period is going on for 10 days now.  Not exceptionally heavy but not spotting either.  I told her yesterday that this sometimes can happen and unless it's really heavy not to worry about it unless it goes for a month.  The doctor said the same thing.  The doctor did want to do a finger prick test to check for anemia though.  She said anything under 12 is cause for concern.  L's result came back at 11.  So we had to go downstairs for an actual blood test. 

L is not a needle person.  She hates shots.  She hates needles.  Of course, being the caring mother that I am... I told her how this was going to be worse than a shot.  They were going to take a needle 2 inches long and stick it in her arm, then she was going to have to sit there while it filled the vile with blood.  I told her that sometimes they don't get the vein on the first try and they'll have to stick her over and over and over again until they get it right.  That sometimes they can actually POP the vein.  Sometimes they'll stick the needle in and then she'll feel it wiggle around in her vein.  Yea.  I'm mean.  The poor kid was white as a sheet by the time they called her back.  They called her name, she looked at me and whispered "will you come with me?" 

She sat in the chair, eyes squeezed shut, two of my fingers in a vice grip in her other hand - and it was done!  She winced when the lady wiped her arm with the alcohol swab, but not when she inserted the needle!!!  When the tech told her it was over L's eyes popped open, she glared at me and said "YOU LIED TO ME!!"  Oh boy, did I ever laugh at her!!  Yea!  I said it!  I. LAUGHED. AT. MY. KID.  Don't judge.  You would have, too!  I told her that I made it sound so awful so that in comparison it wouldn't be so bad.  She was less than understanding at first but on the way home she said she's glad the blood draw wasn't so bad.

Been Awhile - Ya Miss Me Yet?!?!

Bad blogger!  Bad, bad blogger!  I know I've been absent lately, and I'm sure you're all SOOO happy to see me again!  (Insert large amount of sarcasm here, just for fun.)  I'm happy to report that I've actually been busy at work!  Wow.  I can't believe that's an actual highlight of my life right now.  How pathetic is that?  There was a time when I'd have been beyond happy to be able to fuck around on the computer for an hour.  Now I'm excited that I had actual work to do.  I think I may need to seriously re-evaluate my working situation, and soon.

Either way, that's where I've been.  My boss had me working on a take off for a job in Joliet.  As soon as I was done with that he handed me another take off for a job in Prairie Hills, and before I was even finished with that he'd handed me yet another take off for a job in Barrington.  Whew.  In case you were wondering, a take off is simply going through a set of plans, determining where there's glass, and getting the measurements for that glass.  This could be glass in door and/or windows - depending on what our scope of work is for that particular job.  It's a little more complicated than just looking at "pictures", but that's the basis of it.  There are others in my office who can do an entire take off in a day.  I however, being mathematically retarded, cannot.  Others can simply look at a drawing that is 10 feet 3 inches wide by 7 feet 2-3/8 inches tall, and based on the number of horizontal and vertical metal pieces in the window (they're called mullions, by the way) know that each piece of glass is x feet by x feet.  I cannot.  I need my pencil, calculator and PLENTY of scratch paper.  Leave me alone though and I'll get it for you, I just can't do it in my head like some of these savants.  Don't even get me started on what I go through if there are no sizes on the drawings and I have to measure them out using a scale.. Oh crap.

(Ha!  I was actually able to post a picture!  I'm a dork, but figuring out how to do that is sort of cool to me!  Above is a scale.  It's kind of like a ruler, but it's got three sides.  Each side has two different measurements.  Similar to how a map will have a legend - 1/4 inch equals 1 mile - all plans have a legend as well telling us how big a foot measures.  With this scale I can figure out fairly quickly how big a piece of glass is if the scale is in 1/8" increments.  Blah, blah, blah... I know.  Boring, but such is my life.)

I just got a call from L.  Their dad is coming into town this weekend so I'm going to be kid free!  Woo hoo!  On the downside of that, L has a soccer game Sunday morning that her dad is going to take her to, yet I need to be   That means I'm going to be forced to endure his company for 1 1/2 hours on Sunday.  Will it be rude of me to sit as far away from him on the sidelines as I can possibly get?  Would it be ruder still for me to act as though I have no clue who he is?  Just the thought of being in the same vicinity of him for anything longer than 10 minutes makes me want to vomit.  This is a guy who I have two kids with.  A guy who I lived with for 5 years.  Yet the thought of sharing space with him make me physically ill.  How pathetic is that?  Maybe the title to this post should be "How Pathetic Am I?"