May 31st, 2008 | 17 Comments »

Some of you may have noticed that my blog blew up yesterday. I had been obsessively coding for a client the past two days, and didn’t have a braincell left to fix it.

My hero, Rob at ScorpWebSolutions, fixed it for me. I knew the database was intact, because I had checked it, but I didn’t know how to finish the update after a fatal error. He did it manually, after a long day at work. If you are thinking of going self-hosted, the service doesn’t get any better than ScorpWebSolutions. Thank you, Rob. I was totally freaked out.

My Grammie is doing better now. They have her in a ward where they are trying to ambulate her more, and she is not having to take such heavy painkillers. It was difficult to talk to her as she was all loopy from them. And? She didn’t come down with pneumonia, like I had feared.

I met with the new owners of the building and am thrilled to say I won’t have to move. I was dreading the prospect of another summer move, and now I can think about planting more flowers, and bulbs for the fall. All of the plants that I identified by their leaves earlier this spring have flowered, and they are exactly what I predicted they would be. Go me.

And that’s about all of my news. I was preparing a post about The Big V and the amazing dollhouse she created, but that one can wait a bit.

I’m glad to be back! Thanks again, Rob!

May 29th, 2008 | 30 Comments »

I have lived with my younger son for almost twenty-five years. I know if and when he leaves home, I will miss him dreadfully. We get each other. Most of the time.

Every once in a great while, I recall the times before I had children. When nothing sagged or wrinkled, or was anything but cute.

On Saturdays, it was errands and housework. After work during the week, it was everyday chores. Whoever got home first made supper, the loser had to do the cleanup and dishes. I always raced home from work.

I always did my housework naked. I would tear through the entire house, doing laundry as I went. When all was done, I jumped in the shower, and had no sweaty clothes to hang around and foul my hamper.

After my shower, I would don a crisp, clean outfit that was awesomely cute, and be ready to go someplace and show off my hard-working self.

What I didn’t realize back in the day was that I had a picture in my head of what my house should look like, and I felt terrible anxiety if the reality didn’t match the image in my head. I was fanatical about it.

Once a month, I would strip the wax off the floors, using a knife to make sure even the corners were clean as a whistle, although when I think about it, how can something full of spit be clean? Then, when the floors were spotless and clean as a whistle, I would re-apply the wax. It was very satisfying.

What I didn’t get was that other people had to live with me. On my terms. Or visit me. If they smoked, I would wash their ashtray the minute they butted out. How to make your guests feel comfortable, huh? But that image in my head kept giving me anxiety. I guess I figured if everyting matched the perfect image in my head, then my life was okay.

Eventually, I figured out that it made more sense to change the image in my head rather than feel overwhelming anxiety when the reality didn’t match the unreasonably perfect image.

People enjoyed visiting more. Who knew?

My compulsive cleaning left another gift for me. I overexposed myself to chemicals so much that I break out when exposed to them now. I use a lot of vinegar now, and green products, and nowadays, the image in my head is pretty darn lackadaisical. If nothing stinks, it’s all good.

I’m still averse to clutter and mess, because it is one extra step to tidy before cleaning and dusting. I do both less often now.

And Ass Burger Boy? I just ask him to keep his door closed because nobody wants to see what’s in his room.

Really. I have pictures.

And? I don’t do my houswork naked anymore. First, nobody wants to see it. Secondly, I never work up a sweat at it now.

May 27th, 2008 | 19 Comments »

On the phone with Skinny Bitch, finding out what is new in her life.

SB: That’s odd.

WP: What is odd, Skinny Bitch?

SB: Someone has been touching the drapes. Why would they want to do that?

WP: (trying not to explode in giggles) Umm…maybe they wanted to look out the window?

SB: No, you don’t have to move the drapes for that.

WP: Do you suppose they’re messing with your OCD to get even for your perverse parenting?

SB: (gasps) They. Wouldn’t. Dare.

She may be right.

Posted in Skinny Bitch
May 24th, 2008 | 9 Comments »

My Giveaway for a $100 American Airlines voucher has a winner. I went to because I just could not pick a winner without it. In the course of this giveaway, I discovered a new blog or two that I subscribed to. selected The Over Thinker. I’ll just shoot you an email, darlin, and I have a US stamp all ready to put that puppy in the mail.

Congratulations, and thanks to all who entered.

Posted in contests
May 23rd, 2008 | 19 Comments »

Ah, memories. When I was looking at photos to unearth from my dusty albums yesterday,I was reminded of the time the town thought I had a bastard child.

My father had remarried to somewhat reclusive 23 year old, mildly amusing OCD stepmother the previous May, and she bore him a son December 27th of that same year. Yes. You, too, can do maths.

Early in January, when the baby was only ten days old, the whole family moved from a bustling metropolis to the quiet resort town I was born in. I rather enjoyed being a big sister to a cute baby, and I took him with me everywhere but school. He was a social child, and the stepmother was somewhat reserved.

Here’s the image that brought it back to me.

Now look in the background, on the clothesline. See all those? They would be diapers. And onesies. And all sorts of baby thingies.*

Somehow it didn’t occur to me that people would not believe me when I insisted this child was not mine. He was a very smart and entertaining kid. Small town. Something fun to do, right?

It was quite a while before mildly amusing OCD stepmother ventured onto the streets of our quaint little town. And when she took the little professor in his stroller, he would recognize people and perk right up. That’s really how she got to know people there. Through the child that had already charmed half the populace.

First, she had to go through the gauntlet.

“Why, you’re taking witchypoo’s baby for a walk.”

“No. This is my son.”

“But he was only ten days old when she moved here with him.”

“When I moved here with my husband, son, and stepchildren.”

This happened so many times that she forayed out less and less. She couldn’t seem to take credit for this remarkable being.

What nobody would tell me is that my boyfriend was Horny McSlutty. I mean that he was doing just about every girl and woman for miles around. The guys really liked him, as he was charismatic, and the girls wouldn’t reveal their own part in him being such a slut. I was extremely naive, to say the least, but it would have been physically impossible for me to have given birth ten days before we moved. You know, the whole sex thing. Generally it’s necessary to get pregnant.

So it seemed natural that Horny McSlutty’s girlfriend had already produced a child out of wedlock. Turns out he had a few of them running around.

Want to know what was really funny?

My father was beyond strict with me. I had rigid curfews. My theory was that he remembered what he was like at that age.

When did he lift my curfews? When?

When I took up with Horny McSlutty.

The one all the guys, including my father, liked.

Irony? I think so.

* The image in the red jumpsuit with the child on my shoulders? That would be the little professor, the one who is in the Air Force today.