After reading AM's, I checked my own:

First, boring:

"what does a straight up martini have"
"green apple martini"
"my friends hot wife"

And then ...

"green line baby brother timmy" ... (those crazy Germans!!!)

I went in this afternoon to pick up my son out of his crib after his afternoon nap. He had tossed out his Nuk, his toys, as well as his pants. He was 'eh-eh-eh'-ing for his Nuk. I picked him up, took him downstairs.

While we are sitting in the chair, having a sweet moment while he has his sippy cup, I realize .... he's also tossed out his diaper (yet to be found).

He is sitting bare butt, with a t-shirt on, having his milk, watching TV.

Every man's dream.

My friend's husband arrived home on 11/24. His unit (778th Transportation CO - 'combat heavy' - with the KS Ntl Guard) has been serving for the past 16 months. This makes me so, so happy! My friend has done well and I admire her for the last year plus she's been without her husband. She told me this year has really put what is important in her life in perspective.

Welcome home!

I ate too much. I drank too much. I did everything 'too much' today.

We had dinner with our neighbor's, friends of neighbor's, kids, the whole shebang. Lots of food. Lots of drinky. We rolled ourselves across the lawn and went home.

But if I learned anything tonight, what was it, you ask?

I learned how to make a penis napkin. That's right - I can turn a napkin into a penis.

Probably will come in handy if I ever buy a webcam. Tune in and see HDW rolling her napkin into a wanger ....

Happy Turkey Day, Turkies.

Okay. This past week has been rough for our house (didn't happen directly TO us personally, but to people we know). So, I feel I have to say something, albeit generic, but still heartfelt:

With the holidays approaching, everyone is going to parties and doing the kicking up of the heels, drinking, etc.

So, please: DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE.

Have a designated driver. Call a cab. Call a friend. Your life and someone else's is way more important than getting behind a wheel after you've had drinks.

On that note, I hope everyone has a happy and safe holiday. Eat lots of turkey and get fat, I say!!


Happy Thanksgiving!!

........ but in it.

My baby brother and I are adopted. Both since birth or shortly thereafter. We've never not known this; our parents always talked to us and told us that someone was very unselfish in their love for us. They gave us away so we could have a better life. I never doubted this, and I still don't doubt this.

People often ask me, "What is like? How do you feel? Do you think you'll ever meet them? Do you want to? Will you look?" and I have my standard answer. I wouldn't look because I wouldn't want to interrupt their lives. What if they went on to have a family and didn't tell their spouses? What if they say "No"? (Someone once said, "Then it would be like you were abandoned all over again" ... I wasn't, we weren't ... )

So, tonight, my brother called. To know my brother, he has a good heart but has made stupid decisions in his life. When he was little, he had so many head injuries. It explains a lot about him now. He's not a bad kid by any means.

He was talking along about something to do with another phone call he was waiting on - then said, ".... and it was National-something-or-other. First, I thought they were trying to find me, you know, like a creditor. I got plenty of that shit I'm sure!" (and that's true)

Then the woman said, "Are you the son of ____ and ____?" He answered that he was. And then, the intermediary from the search agency informed him his birthmother was looking for him.

It just makes me cry writing this.

She has two sons. She knows his birthfather still. He was three sons and a daughter. He was given more information, but said he was almost too shocked to hear any of it at all. He said they told him to expect a letter from her soon and he could respond if he chose to.

I know my birthparent's are out there. I knew his were, too. But it's an entirely different thing to know they have found my baby brother and want to know more about him. He said he couldn't wait to tell them he had a son, too.

I'm happy for him. I am proud of who is working on becoming. And I know they will love him as much as I have.

Love you.

Conversation between myself and HDH on Saturday:

Me: My side hurts.
Him: Oh.
Me: No, really! It feels like someone took a baseball bat and hit me in the left side. It burns, too.
Him: Oh.

(a few hours later)

Me: LOOK AT MY STOMACH!
Him: Oh man.
Me: What! What's wrong with me? Why do I have all these red bumps on my stomach??
Him: You have herpes zoster.
Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS HERPES ZOSTER?? USE PATIENT WORDS, DAMMIT!
Him: Shingles. You have shingles. I need to go wash my hands now. Gross.

So, I went to the doctor yesterday (you know, the one that doesn't say "Gross") and confirmed that I do, in fact, have shingles. Apparently, it's mainly meant for the older crowd, those with some sort of disease that drops their immune system, etc. I'm not qualifying for any of the above.

Doctor says I have about six weeks of pain. Offered me pain meds, but I declined. I don't hurt to the point of taking those yet ... yet. Hopefully, I'll have the mild version and be on my merry way.

Anybody have these or have any advice?

PS It isn't contagious. Unless of course, you haven't had Chicken Pox. And then, it is. Same virus.

Raiders lose to the Broncos, IN Oakland.

What a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL day!!

I use the Ortho-Evra patch. This is the little tidbit that came out yesterday in the news regarding said patch:

The Food and Drug Administration on Thursday warned millions of women who use the Ortho Evra contraceptive patch that they are being exposed to about 60 percent more estrogen than with a typical birth control pill, which could put them at higher risk for blood clots.

Upon hearing this and seeing my nekkid self this morning, HDH says, "Hey! Take that patch off your ass! I DON'T NEED YOU DYING!".

And they say romance is dead.

Yum.

Looks like there will be a Sex Toy party on our block very soon. The lady who wants to host it hasn't even used the stuff she bought two years ago. God, what a shame.

And that was a great party, too. Hang out with the lesbians and you learn a heckuva lot ....

One of my best friends and her husband had a baby the end of last week. I told her that when they got home, they should sleep whenever the baby sleeps, all of that good stuff. But more importantly, to not be one of those parents who out of the chute says, "My baby is already sleeping! He's on a schedule!". It's never that way. They sleep, sure, but they are also very groggy still from the anethesia the mom was given, the entire delivery, etc.

Sure enough. I had a call yesterday and she said, "He's already sleeping so well! We're so lucky to have such a GOOD baby".

You see, I remember HDH lying in bed, taking a nap with the Stink. HDH was gazing into this precious baby's little eyes and loving this little creature. It is a tender moment. The baby was totally tired, peaceful and completely fooling us.

Because - oh, maybe a few days later? - the baby started to cry. And he didn't STOP crying for three months. We rocked him. We held him. We took him for long rides in the car, all hours of the day and night. We put him in a car seat on top of the dryer and turned the puppy on high. Nothing worked. We read books. We took him to the doctor. We tried this. We tried that.

At some point, I was rocking this totally pissed off creature at 4 in the afternoon. At 4 in the morning, he was STILL crying. (HDH was in ROME at the time, trying to play down his 'not-so-great-time' ... "really, eating at this place isn't so great at all. Sure, we're on a rooftop overlooking Rome, but it's AWFUL.")

That would be 12 straight hours of me vs. the baby. It was the longest night of my life, I think. And of course, only to have him wake up again two hours after I got him to sleep to eat again.

Those first few months were such a short frame of time and I see that now. HDToddler is now 20-months-old. He is a spirited little man, full of love, curiosity and courage. I love this guy dearly.

Regardless ...

It's going to be interesting to see how my friends do these first few months. As I told HDH last night, I'll be waiting for the incoming phone calls very soon ....

It was only a matter of time, my friends.

Someone stumbled across my blog looking for "hot wife".

Heh.

Dirty, dirty!!

We went to a party on Saturday night - myself, HDH and HDToddler (who was on the end of sick streak, temps of 103, a nasty cough, diarrhea and all around feeling like crap). It was a nice little family/friends party with an assload of people. I am impressed they fit us all in their albeit lovely home.

Other than the expected chaos (which would be HDToddler throwing himself onto the floor, in the middle of the kitchen because - as near as I can figure - the sky wasn't blue enough), there was a family that completely puzzled me.

Dad, Mom, and three or four kids. All of the children had some sort of disability, so I'm thinking that these are nice adoptive parents - maybe even foster parents? I find myself in the kitchen next to the Mother, and she was as friendly as a rattlesnake. Nasty woman. Her daughter comes running over with pom-pom's she had found, and announced she was a cheerleader. I got down with my son and said, "You make a great cheerleader! I bet you can dance, too!" and her mom snatched her up, told her to put the pom-pom's away. They proceeded then to sit in the corner for a while.

Later, I notice a bee flying in the kitchen. It has obviously hijacked a ride with the beautiful flowers someone has given the hostess. The bee is hanging out on the flowers, loving life. I see about 50,000 kids running around, and one in particular is by the arrangement with his dad. I whisper to the dad that there is a bee in the flowers, so he leans down to his son (whose back is facing us) and says, "Hey, Timmy, wanna try and catch the bee?".

The kid FREAKS!! He turns around, tosses his plate up in the air and runs. I then see the kid has Down's. His idiot dad looks at me and says, very matter-of-fact, "Yeah, he really has trouble with bees". SO THEN WHY IN THE GOD'S NAME DID YOU TELL HIM THERE WAS A BEE NEARBY!?!?

An hour into the evening, we find ourselves in the little area where the Mom is and two of her girls, plus the little Bee Boy I mentioned earlier. Someone has let the dog in. It's a ridiculously happy dog that wants to lick, but primarily, wants any leftover's on the floor.

The little Cheerleader Girl is SCARED of dogs, but this dog in general. She hides behind her Mom. We start ushering the Happy Dog back outside. This is a futile effort as someone will go back outside to see the koi pond or the keg or whatever the hell is in the back yard, and the dog will come right back in. It's the nature of things.

Regardless, the little Bee Boy has just jumped up into his chair, and oh-so-happy with a new can of Sprite. His mom says, "PUT THAT DOWN! WE'RE LEAVING!"

Immediately, everyone starts saying, "Don't go, we'll keep the dog out" ... but she insists. She moves that family out in absolutely 10 seconds flat. The kids looked totally crestfallen.

What puzzles me is this:

HDH saw this as them hating the dog and being mad that the dog was even around.

I saw this as a mom who was irritated with her child for being afraid of dogs.

Who knows.

But what I do know is that in the end, the bee and the dog were still in the house, my kid was flinging himself onto the floor and into the chocolate fountain. Full on hands in the fountain. I wish I'd had my camera for that one ...

Kids really crack me up.

I had two emails from friends yesterday, including photos of their children in their Halloween costumes.

The first was from my high school girlfriend. She explains that their three-year-old daughter wanted to be (unwavering and since August, you know) a BLUE CIRCLE. She wouldn't change her mind one bit. And the photo was included - and by golly, she was a blue circle. Looks like they fashioned to hula hoops or something with blue material, one on each side, and little M was a blue circle. Too funny.

The second email was from a college friend, who describes her daughter's (also unwavering) desire to be a "shark princess". Apparently L couldn't find a shark pattern, so they settled on a fish with a tiara.

On a related note, our kid went as "I'm tired and I refuse to wear my dumbass costume". He then had a few chocolates and plowed head on into a chair in HDH's office; therefore, creating a giant goose egg on his forehead. Looked like a third eye. (as HDH said, as I was freaking out, "Really, HDW. It's just a hematoma ... he probably just broke his vein".

NICE.

This morning, I went to the local grocery store. I stocked up my cart, went to the check out line, and noticed everyone was shifting over to #4, but line 3 was wiiiiiiiiiiiiide open, except for an older woman finishing paying.

And then I see the sign:

"Hi, my name is Heather. I am new, and I use sign language to communicate. If you have any major questions, please write them down and I will answer them for you. Thank you for your patience."

Ahhh. So no one wanted to deal with someone who was deaf? No one wanted to take the extra time for someone to learn their job? This wasn't a life or death situation. None of us needed the cure for cancer explained to us - we just needed someone to scan our tomatoes and smile. JEEEZUS PEOPLE!!!

She smiled at me when I got up, waved to me, and started checking out my groceries. She had to look up jimaca and the peppers I bought ... so what!! She was sweet, pleasant, asked her supervisor questions, pointed to the screen to make sure I agreed with what she scanned, all relatively painless.

So, fuck you too-stuck-up-busy-fucking-people who went into the other line. I hope someone is less PATIENT with you sometime soon.