Today, I turn 31.

And all those years ago, I was born to a woman at the Colorado Research Hospital (now University Hospital) in Denver. She was 19. I don't know if she went in with my biological father. It says in my records that he supported her throughout the pregnancy and decision-making, going to counseling. But if not, I'd like to think, though, that she went in with her mom or a good friend to support her.

By all accounts, the delivery was normal and I was a healthy, full-term baby. I had reddish hair and weighed about 5 lbs.



I'd like to think they let her hold me just once. I'd like to think the nurse was kind and let her say hello to this little person she'd carefully carried around for nine months. I'd like to think she got to count my fingers and toes before they took me to the nursery down the hall.

I'd like her to know that I spent the next month and twelve days in a wonderful foster home. The woman that took care of me was older - more the grandmotherly type, I heard. And having now had a newborn son that cried for the first three months of his life, I can only believe this woman to be a saint. Getting up for all those middle of the night feedings? Every two hours to feed, rock, hold and love this little vulnerable person? Complete and total sainthood.

I'd like her to know that my parents tried for seven years to have a baby. They tried to do it on their own, and failed. They tried to go through adoption agencies, but were told all children would be coming in from Vietnam or other countries in a state of war, but then they heard those children were being taken back to their original countries by their parents once the war ended. And my parents couldn't do this. They couldn't face having to give the baby they'd prayed for back. So they waited.

When their case worker told them if they'd give up being on the foreign adoption list (and they were so very close to having a baby from Peru this way), she could guarantee an American born baby for them. My parents reluctantly agreed, knowing it would be one. more. year.

After my parents took some time and talked and prayed together, they signed the papework. Then case worker then took out a picture of me from under her desk calendar and said, "This is your baby girl. She is in the next room. If you go into the room and it's not a good fit, it's okay. You can leave with no questions asked."

My mom said later that they would have taken me with three heads on my shoulders. She also said my dad reached his hand into the crib and I grabbed a hold of his finger and smiled at him first. She said, "How very like you - you never did want to let go of him".



I want my birthmother to know that I grew up on a farm and ranch, around a mess of animals and people that loved me. I shadowed my dad, my mom, and the hired helpers that worked for us. When Chuck kissed me on my cheek on my third birthday, I ran into my mom's room and said, "Chuck kissed me, and I think I liked it!!".

I learned compassion from my dad when a baby calf was struggling to survive without its mom. I learned faith when I watched my baby brother fall from a swimming pool slide when he was three, and spent days in a coma. I learned humor when a girl in my class made fun of me for being 'different' (adopted). I learned humility when I wasn't chosen for a scholarship I thought I'd earned. I learned strength when my dad died at the age of 49.

And I've learned to love many times over. I loved my little sweet dog that hung out with my on the front steps of my house many miles from any town. I loved my mom, my dad, and even my brother, whose primary purpose on this Earth was to put boogers in my hair and trash the dolls in my room.

I fell in love with my would-be husband the night he listened to my life stories and secrets of which I were ashamed, and said he'd love me despite those flaws. And has.



I learned, though, what true love was the very second I laid eyes on the baby I had almost three years ago. I realized at that very moment - the moment they put him in my arms - what sort of love you had had for me; to give me away and hope and trust someone else would take good care of me, and raise me right. And they did. They weren't perfect, but none of us are.

But thank you - truly - for what you did. Thank you for giving me life. I don't know if you think of me today, but I can't imagine you couldn't. Wherever you are and whatever you do, I hope life has been, is, and will continue to be full of many blessings and good to you.

Thank you for my birthday.




"All men and women are born, live suffer and die; what distinguishes us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about... We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live."

Joseph Epstein

Labels: adoption, birthday

I thought I'd share this little bit of news that came (no pun intended) through my little "Hey, click here and email me if you want to tell me something interesting!" button on my blog. And this certainly was interesting.

And apparently, this person has a job that they should be paid in gold for doing. See below:

"Girl....I love my job. But today, something happened that just bothered me MORE than ANYTHING that has ever happened in the history of EVER!!!!

I was scanning for venous reflux and I have to start high up in the CROTCH area and find the Common Femoral Vein. Apparently, Mr. 65 and Horny had a hard-on, which isn't uncommon but it does throw ya for a loop and shit. I ignored it, and even though we are TAUGHT to FLICK the WEINER, I refrained because I'm all about NOT embarrassing my patients and whatnot. Coupled with that was the fact that he had a fat stomach that kind of hung down so I had to LIFT the SHIT and probe deeper...trying to find my MARK!

All of a sudden, his breathing became labored and his legs started to shake and I thought, "The FUCK?" and I asked him, "Um...are you ok?" because I thought he was gonna pass out or his legs were about the buckle and he was gonna fall off the table onto ME! He could barely talk but he did manage to get out a feeble, "Um...yeah...I'm ok" and the next thing I know, I have a dime sized dollop of JIZM on my GLOVE!

That's right.

He ejaculated on me.

What's worse, and yet what cemented the fact that my worst FEAR had just CAME TO FRUITION, was the fact that I could SMELL his semen. Fucking nasty.

So....how was your day?"

I responded with my story of working in Plastic Surgery, and dealing with a patient over the phone who had apparently 'spoken with' the doctor I worked for 'about his issues'. It isn't uncommon for patients to present in Plastic Surgery with pictures of their malformed boobies or what not, so when he said, "I'm sending in pictures" and verified our address, it didn't surprise me at all.

What surprised me was opening the envelope a week later and finding 8x10's of this dude jacking off.

I remember one doctor looking over my shoulder as I screamed, and said, "Yeah, some people just do that every now and then to get their jollies off".

Apparently so.

So, how was YOUR day??

Anyone? Anyone?

I LOVE JESUS, BUT I DRINK A LITTLE

Click on the above link and laugh your ass off!

My mom - although by most definitions, she is just like the "no more wire hanger's" mom - was somewhat militant and organized about keeping folders of my schoolwork and other things from birth to college. Each folder is labeled with the year and stuffed with plenty of things I'd long forgotten about. Poems crumpled up into the trash were scooped out, smoothed out, and hidden away. Notes to friends, assignments I passed and failed, and brochures of places I visited during school. As nuts as my mom is (and she is), this is a cool thing.

And somewhere in-between a book report and a playbook with "I heart Theboyoftheweek" written all over it, was a note from my dad. It was about a track meet I had that day.

And you must know, I hated particpating in all things athletic. I was really, really good at cheering those on who could run, like my friend, Julie. She kicked ass at it and I was 100% cheering her on. But me? A big fat NO. I was really awful at it all. In basketball, I'd be too busy trying to remember how to run and dribble, and would forget how the play we were running. In volleyball, my elbows were double-jointed, so when I'd go to pass the ball, it would fly off my right arm into the crowd. And running? Oh HELL no. Unless someone was chasing me, it certainly wasn't for me.

The note that morning from my dad listed off five things at the track meet he thought I'd be good at, in order, with a bit of advice to the side for each one. The first one was the relay because "it's the most fun". The last was the high jump, and he added, "If you don't let the fear of the bar mess with your head". Um, yeah. That fear was certainly there.

He would leave these notes for me on the breakfast counter. If he had to leave for work early, it would be sitting by my cereal bowl. If it was something he wanted me to know during the day, it would be left in the same place in the afternoon when I came home from school. It was a rare occasion that he wasn't at a track meet, either (presumably to watch the other more althetic kids actually be, oh, athletic - ha!).

My dad was an incredible athlete growing up and into college. He ended up playing college football and starting his senior year. I know he wanted his kids to really be into sports, too. I remember countless nights practicing basketball with him in the Shop building behind our house. I tried, I really did. I'd go out and turn on New Kids On the Block (eeek!) and rock it OUT. Sadly for him, it just wasn't my thing. And the day I told him I didn't want to play basketball at school anymore just crushed him.

In a small town, there are only a few things you can do to be involved, and those are:

1. sports
2. sports
3. band

I think, in all honesty, my dad was afraid I'd be sulking the halls with no means of making friends in a club. I hadn't yet figured out I liked drama, so all I had was music.

My music teacher, I think, asked me to sing the National Anthem before one of the basketball games that year with a friend of mine. Now, this was something I was good at and confident doing. This was something that didn't freak me out; I could sing in front of 200 people, but I couldn't run down the court.

While rummaging through this same pile of old papers and such, I found the video recorded of my first time singing the National Anthem acapella at that basketball game. My dad had the video camera. And although in general his movie taking skills weren't too hot, this time he was really shaking the camera. He was a nervous dad!! And when we finished, he yelled out, "GOOD JOB, HDW!!" and let out a sigh of relief.

I'd found my niche and my daddy was proud.

I think these little reminders ... what, 15 plus years later! ... really help continue to remind me of who he was and what he was, and most importantly, really, who I was to him. It's not that I've forgotten, but it's nice to be reminded.

Like hearing his voice coming through the speakers in my living room. I closed my eyes and I could have sworn he was right ... here ...

Labels: daddy, memories

Kath hosted a sex toy party last night at her lovely casa. I decided to write down some of what was overheard last night ...

Regarding the pencil toppers we received:
"Do you have your p*nis?"

"Look, battling c*cks!!"

"Oooops, my p*nis keeps falling off."

"Hey, someone dropped their c*ck on the floor."

"Is this the caucasion size??"

"Who put the p*nis on the weiner dog figurine?? Because that's f*cking FUNNY."

(To see where else the p*nis topper's landed at Kath's house, click right here)

Regarding I'm not sure what:
"It tastes like BURNING!"

About bl*w jobs:
"It's not a BLOW vacation, it's a blow JOB."

"Braces - got me a nice break from blow jobs!"

Regarding the pheromone stuff:
"It's too fruity on me. Wait, that doesn't sound good at all."

The favorite phrase of the evening to describe, well, you know!:
"BEANS!"

Regarding a toy that was a popular purchase:
"This Jelly Osaki is making me turn Japanese"
followed by ".... I really think so! I really think so!"

A certain someone's thoughts about backdoor l*vin', if you will:
"Shipping not receiving, thanks!"

Quote from a lovely lady blogger while placing order:
"Wait, do I NEED c*ck rings??"

Yesterday, The Bug had to have an outpatient procedure done at The Childrens Hospital. It was a procedure that could have been done normally in the doctor's office, but because of his giant-sized tonsils, they had to schedule it at the hospital so an anethesiologist could help.

It wasn't the procedure itself that freaked me out. I mean, it is what it is and it had to be taken care of. But the anesthesia? Ugh. I totally trust them and their profession, but no one really likes the idea of their kid going under.

But speaking of the anesthesiologist, she rocked. They let me go back with him, and she explained to HDToddler that he got to go on a really cool rocket ship ride and in no time at all, he'd be bouncing on along on cotton ball clouds. He was so excited and ready to go. I loved how easy she made it for him, and how sweet she was to him.

It took my son about four extra hours to wake up from the anesthesia. His oxygen levels kept dipping down so they required him to have some help from the oxygen mask. I sat and rocked my baby in the recovery room, thinking, "He is my entire world."


Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

PS The photo was taken a while back when HDToddler told me he'd 'hide' from me. He laid on the floor, covered himself up with a blanket, and giggled.

It appears, friends, that the shit keeps rolling down hill at the HotDoctorFamily House.

First, on Friday, I got to deal with one busted out tire courtesy The Pothole o' Death, and HDH's broken down vehicle all in the same day, all on the same block.

Over the weekend, we got more snow on top of the other snow that hasn't gone away since, by all calculations, um .... middle of December sometime. I don't even remember. Round 1, Round 3, Round 5? It's all the same.

Today ... HDHusband goes to work. He has a bad day at work. But on that one glimmer of positive hope, his vehicle was ready to be picked up after work. We pick him up at work and drive him to the dealership. He gets out. He gets into his truck. He drives off. We go home.

About an hour later, HDH says, "Hey, have you seen my cell phone?". We look around. No cell phone. Not in my car. Not in his truck. I volunteer to drive back to the dealership to look for the phone.

When I get to dealership, I find this mangled, iced over used-to-be-my-husband's-phone ... phone. Looks like when he got out of my car, it fell off the clip and he ran that bitch right over. See evidence below (Note that subtle gesture to said company that makes some pretty flimsy belt clips):



HDHusband has composed an email to his office manager, asking him for a little help in finding a phone that will work for him and a belt clip that doesn't suck horribly bad. He said that everything he touches is breaking today.

He then added, "I'm afraid to go to the bathroom now".

And on that note ....

I'm not sure our local story has made the national headlines, but it's truly worth sharing.

There were two young men - both in high school - taking their dates home from a dance. They got a flat tire. They stepped out of the vehicle and were getting the tire out of the back, when another classmate loss control on a very bad road (remember: it's a frozen tundra of ice and snow here), slamming into their vehicle, pinning both boys.

They each lost BOTH of their legs.

This week, Denver is hosting the National Western Stockshow. It's a great time for kids to come from all over, sell their prize winning animals, put some money away for college.

Instead, Emma Vickland put her hog up for auction and said ALL the proceeds would go to those two young men and their families. As they say in the article, usually you can expect to earn 2k or 3k.

She earned 35k for them!

I absolutely LOVE stories like this, and I wish there were more of them. If you'd like to read the article, click here. It's worth the read. It's an important story.

It's nice to know this world has some good left.

It's snowing in Denver again. Fifth week in a row. Expecting 1-3 inches today, which shouldn't be 'that bad'.

EDIT: SCRATCH THAT - MAKE IT 3-6 INCHES!

Our streets now resemble moguls on a ski slope, giant sheets and chunks of ice to contend with, not to mention the potholes and my blown-out tire from yesterday. Driving along, you bounce a lot, you skid, you slide, the uncarriage of your car scrapes the bottom. And most side streets have little ruts to drive in, but God forbid you get in one and someone else is driving in yours from the opposite direction. Neither one can really drive out that easily. I almost had a head-on with an ambulance the other day this way.

I'm ready - REALLY - for the sun, for melting, for normal driving conditions. I'm over the potholes that eat tires. I'm ready to retire the shovel for at least a little while. I stopped carrying it back to the garage and just left it on the front porch.

I realize asking for sun and a high temp to melt said devil snow is a tall order, considering El Nino is back and going to give us a really wet spring, according to all the weatherpeople who say this on the news then duck to miss the flying tomatoes. (I taught HDToddler last night to say, "BOO HISS!" during the report about 'more snow').

I'm tired of hearing about my family in eastern Colorado and their friends losing livestock (the last count for everyone was over 10,000 head of cattle DEAD). I'm sad to think of the homeless people who are trying to get shelter, and thinking of those opening their doors to try and make room for the stranded.

I know we'll have beautiful flowers, our lakes will be full, our rivers will be running, our grass will be green. I know the drought I prayed would end might have. I just want to skip ahead to that part, please and thank you.

Someone said, "Use dynamite to blast the ice if you have to on my street, I don't care, really".

I might have to agree.

Let me set the scene, shall we??

I was meeting a girlfriend for lunch this morning at 11. She works at the hospital I use to work at, so I was on the road to said hospital, about 10 minutes away. Somewhere during a Lionel Richie song, I hit a giant pothole - and by GIANT, I mean, "The Earth opened up and swallowed by tire".

And when the Earth did so, it busted up my front right tire something FIERCE. I made it about a block and pulled over. Flipped open my cell phone, and on a FULL CHARGE, it died. Dead.

So ... I walk a few blocks in my pretty black boots on a bunch of fucked up icy/snowpack streets and sidewalks back to one of the hospitals nearby. HDHusband had clinic there today, so I stumbled in to his clinic, got the keys to his truck and cell phone, drove over to my car, called roadside assistance, arranged for the tow truck, switched out the car seat to HDH's truck, and got into it, put the key in aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand ...

It died.

No shit!! That's TWO cars from the HotDoctorHousehold DEAD in an hour's time.

It's not the battery. The radio and the lights and the clock still worked. Put key in engine, and nothing happened. Better yet, you take the key out, the radio is still on and won't shut off no matter what. Something's short-circuited big time there.

I pack up my purse and such - again - and walk back to the hospital a few blocks yet again. In my boots that aren't so pretty anymore, by the way. And it's cold. Very cold.

I still intend to have lunch with my girlfriend (about an hour and a half later) because really, she's going to be my ride home, I can't do anything about the cars now, so might as well eat.

While waiting to go up the elevators to her office, I'm swarmed by a bunch of cops and security guards who are looking for an escapee from the Pysch Ward. They make us all stand in one place and get all official about it. At this point, I dare that person to come any where NEAR my ass. I will assault them with my black fucking boot; DON'T YOU THINK I WON'T!

At lunch, I relax. And being the wonderful friend she is, she volunteers to drive me home. And on the way home, we are following a big truck and LO AND BEHOLD, they are fixing THE VERY POTHOLE that killed my tire.

Thanks for that, Johnny On The Spot.

I come home, call the tow truck for my husband's truck, and then realize I didn't leave the car under the mat for them. I called a taxi, and the taxi dude drove me back to the scene, so I could leave the key for the driver. YAY. ME.

I am now home.

My daycare person is either going to bring my son home for us, or will have another parent drop him off on the way here.

My husband is going to have a co-worker drive him home from the hospital tonight. Thankfully, he's not on-call this weekend, so we don't have that issue to contend with.

I have to get my car sometime from the repair shop, whenever they call. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

The Kath Taxi is arriving around 6-ish to take my ass to Happy Hour up the street. If anything happens between then and now, just assume I am tipsy and laughing at everything. 'Cause, really, this is funny.

Right? Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight ...

This Moment: sleepy
Your Shoes: missing
Craving: sleep
The State of Your Home: hijacked
Annoyed By: sickness
Noise In the Background: coughing
Really Want To: travel
Thinking About: plans
Smelling: freesia
Favorite Product In Office Supply Aisle: pens
Don't Ever Want To: forget
Your Eye Color: green
The Weather: cold
Have Never Tried: snowboarding
Think Everyone Should Try: faith
Last Vacation Destination: Taos
The Last Thing You Had to Drink: wine
Your Bad Habit: knuckles
What You're Going To Do Now: sleep ...

Copy and Paste if you want!

They say that from the instant he lays eyes on her, a father adores his daughter. Whoever she grows up to be, she is always to him that little girl in pigtails. She makes him feel like Christmas. In exchange, he makes a secret promise not to see the awkwardness of her teenage years, the mistakes she makes or the secrets she keeps.

- Unknown

Our little nighttime routine around the HotDoctor Casa is to all lay in Mommy and Daddy's bed, look up at the ceiling, and talk about the shapes we see, before heading to HDToddler's bedroom down the hall for sleep. And, we happen to have tons of circle-related shapes going on. Some speakers in the ceiling, the smoke alarm, and a half circle window above the fireplace.

Last night, the light were all off, and the street lamp outside the window above our fireplace was making some crazy shapes happen on our ceiling. After going through the usual round of shapes, HDToddler, unprompted, points to a shadow on the wall and announces to me that it's a 'nip-ple'.

And indeed, it looked just like one. A boobie with a black circle right in the middle.

I fell off the bed laughing and couldn't get it back together for our 'quiet time'.

(And we're getting dangerously close to me answering his latest question of: "Mommy, where's mommy's 'nis ?" - for 'weenus', if you will. Any help is appreciated)

I hosted a SEX TOY PARTY at my casa last night. So, for those of you totally offended by talk of sex stuff, move right on along ....

For those that aren't, you were likely AT my party last night - and thank you tons for coming over (ha) and hanging out, drinking wine, and learning about glass things that you put into certain body places!

I love that when the cream you put on your n*pples came around, I remarked that it smelled too much like Kissing Coolers lipgloss that I had in Junior High. ClizBiz determined it smelled like "melted Barbies". Cracked me up. They also passed around a book of sex positions, and one still leaves me amazed and astounded. I took a picture of the page because, you know, I have to fucking figure that thing OUT ....

I have to laugh, though: With the amount of purchases made last night, I qualified for a cruise trip. Like HELL I'm getting on another cruise ship. So if I make it, anyone else is welcome to the thing!

I don't know who took this picture, I certainly didn't. But, it is of a road outside of my hometown.

I grew up off of a road like this. I rode the bus to school on this dusty road. I learned how to drive on a road like this, sitting on my dad's lap in the old GMC pickup, learning to 'stay out of the soft sand or you'll go into the ditch' (which I did once) ...

I miss my 'home' this week. A lot, actually. I miss those old country roads and the slow pace and a simpler time. I miss going home. My aunt lives in my old house now, and although we're always welcome, the house doesn't look or feel the same. You can still see the fingerprints of the time when I lived there. My dad's pickup isn't in the driveway and my brother isn't out back playing in the yard. My mom isn't hanging clothes on the line. It's changed. Everything changes, but I miss that time.

I'm nostaglic this week for all things small town. And I love that I grew up in one, and I love that it's still important to me.

You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right. ~Maya Angelou

We are home from our anniversary trip to northern New Mexico. I thought I'd share some photos with you first of the 'easy' part of our trip:


This is George, the resident peacock of the bed and breakfast we stayed at. He showed up a few years ago and has just made himself at home. He hangs out on top of the hot tub and makes all sorts of fascinating noises. George is well-loved by all, quite the poser for the camera, and tolerant of their cats.

This would be our super cozy little room. They had heated floors and a wood-burning fireplace. The fireplace caused HDHusband some issues. I had that damn song by Prodigy in my head for the rest of the trip ("I'm the firestarter, you're the twisted firestarter").



What else would be condusive to a romantic getaway? A bottle of champagne in the room? Check! Or ... a hot tub IN the room!? With a great little candle and a funky statue with circles for boobies on the girl. I mean, come on ... it just screams good tub sex, right? Um, not really. Because HDToddler gave us his cold and we were both addicted to Zicam and the hot bath for other reasons. Meh.

We had a fantastic time, no matter. We made it to breakfast with the group every morning and met some interesting folks. My favorite being the couple originally from Germany, now living in Michigan. They'd been married 19 years, and he told me, "It's too short for us". He doted on her and took care of her. It was very, very sweet to witness.

We also went shopping. I got harassed by a creepy dude and only knew how to yell, "Your wife is fat and ugly!" (thanks ElJefe) in Spanish; instead, I walked back into the shop until he went away to creep someone else out.

We had great dinners, bickered, started napkins at the dinner table on fire, all sorts of incredibly dumbass things. We had coffee at a great little shop, and the bathroom cleaning checklist on the wall for employees had been hijacked by a customer. They had written, "What is this? Chevron? Your boss is a Nazi!" - and I cracked up. HDHusband didn't go skiing on this trip because he felt like such ass, but we hear it was the optimal time to do so. Lots of new snow. And snow is EXACTLY what I don't want ANYMORE of ... you hear me, Snow Fairies?

We left early this morning (Saturday) around 8:30. We went back the way we came (north out of town into southwestern Colorado, connecting with La Veta Pass, to I-25 at Walsenburg, then north to Denver. I obsessed (read: made HDH pissy) last night over the road maps and the internet update of road conditions.

Once we determined La Veta Pass was open (but roads weren't 'great', and really, check out that link - it's GORGEOUS), we headed out. We stumbled across this sign in the middle of vast nothingness between Unkwown Town 1 and Unknown Town 2 adevertising: "Lake Front Lots". I'm sure there is a lake .... uh ... somewhere, but ... uh .... where??

We hit La Veta Pass, and this is what HDHusband drove in bare-knuckled for about 40 minutes (see pic below). Maybe more. Certainly felt like a helluva lot more. These giant wind gusts would pick up and you couldn't see the car in front of you, the side of the road, if you were supposed to turn or not with the road. Thank God for listening to Marc Cohn's Burning the Daze. Great traveling tunes and kept the heart rate, well, kinda down ....

So ... we make it through La Veta Pass and into Walsenburg. We stop so I can use the little girl's room. I think that we'll hit the interestate and it'll be better. HA HA HA. JOKES ON ME. We sit on the interestate, at road marker 60 (right outside of Walsenburg, you know, exit Huerfano!!), with everyone else (once) headed northbound.

Turns out, really bad accidents on both north and south bound, so we are stuck on the interstate, car running, in another white out, waiting for them to get stuff figured out so we can go. We watched a guy in front of us get out of his truck and his hat blew off. He got it, but I laughed.

And we wait.

And we wait some more.

I kick the laptop on (yay wireless) and find out about the avalanche that had happened on Hwy. 40. Felt a little luckier after that. And then ... god help me ... I had to pee. BAAAAAAAAAD. I am considering a trip to the Pepsi can in the backseat. I wasn't about to stumble out onto the highway during a white out blizzard-like conditions to pee. My ass would have been seriously wind chapped!!

And we waited some more.

And a while after that.

After about two hours, we all started moving. And of course, people had to stop and gawk and check out all the accidents. Like this one:

That line-up of cars went on and on for miles. I threw a bunch of the photos up on Flickr if you're interested. But once you've seen one semi jacknifed you've seen them all ... (not really).

And see that car on our side of the road? The one right in the corner of the picture? He was the rubbernecker. HE was the one that almost caused another accident because he had to keep looking over. THE ROADS WERE A SHEET OF ICE AND SNOWPACK. I took a picture so HDH could look LATER. And I can tell you this, had that man caused another accident, I would have gotten out and punched him in the neck. DO NOT DOUBT ME. I told HDH this later and he said, "Absolutely, but you would have had to get in line behind me". I hope he ran out of window washer fluid early. So there.

I made it to Colorado Springs before the bathroom break, by the way. We were trying to make up time (on dry roads) and get the Bug from daycare before she closed up shop at 5:00 - and we skirted into her driveway at 4:15.

I can tell you this .... at the end of the bastard day, all that matters is this family of mine. We are all here, we are all safe. It could have ended a lot differently. HDH lamented that half the time he didn't know if we were slipping on ice or if the wind was moving us, or both.

And now .... I'm going to go to bed, taking something to make me sleep (as if I'll really need that help) and pass out until tomorrow morning, knowing we're all safe and sound.

HDHusband and I went out for dinner this evening to celebrate the official anniversary of our marriage five (long) years ago. We picked the restaurant that we couldn't get into the last time we were here (our honeymoon). It's been rumored that a certain movie star (who was briefly married to a certain singer who rocks the house but might not rock the good looks) goes there. I didn't see her. If I would have, I would have yelled out something from Pretty Woman, don't you doubt.

But whatever. If I had a boat and all that.

The following exchanges took place during dinner:

HDH: What things are you looking forward to in the next five years?

...... a little later on .........

HDH: Oh my god, this is the best shashmi EVER.
(takes entire appetizer, eats it, and leaves a crumb - swear to god - for me)
HDW: Thanks. Thanks a lot for the fucking crumb.
Waiter: Can I bring you anything else?
HDW: No, but I'm about ready to stab my husband in the leg with my fork.
HDH: And I have NO DOUBT IN MY MIND that she ACTUALLY will

Happy Anniversary to us and all that.

(We're driving home tomorrow post-snow, think good thoughts for us, k?)

HDHusband (while lying on bed, reading book): Hey, what are you reading on the computer?

Me: Looking up ways to kill my husband on our fifth anniversary.

HDH: Seems to me you don't need to go to all of that trouble because the cold you had? Yeah, you gave that shit to me and now I feel like shit. So thanks.

Me: I do what I can.

WOOT!

We are on VACATION!!

After reading every single website detailing every road we may or may not take (blizzards and all), we finally figured out the right path, dropped off the kid at the sitter's, and took off for our retreat. We stopped in a small town for coffee, and because of my lame ass cold, I can't taste anything. According to HDHusband, I didn't miss much. According to him, it was, "Warm milk with no taste of coffee in it. How fucking hard is it? Apparently hard, 'cause that shit was NASTY". Coffee snobs ... ha.

On our honeymoon, HDH loaded up the CD Player with all the music HE loved. I got stuck listening to shit I didn't even remotely like. This time, he hooked us up with some great traveling tunes. Marc Cohn, Springsteen, and Paul Oakenfold. Trouble is, the latter came on when I was starting to get really tired on our 5.5 hour drive, so we had to switch it --- Def Leppard. ROCK ON!

We are here celebrating our fifth anniversary, same place we stayed for our honeymoon. It's been pretty cool coming back to same place we came after our wedding. The resident dog is gone, but they've inherited a peacock. Apparently a very friendly (and certainly beautiful) one. It's name is George. :) I'll sneak a photo later ...

We went to dinner last night at a great place. But because of my LAME cold and the no taste/smell thing, I gave him a bite of my pistachio crusted chicken filled with goat cheese and spinach. It seemed like it was good, but I couldn't tell. He ate the rest. He said he needed, "a moment with the chicken, please. Just some alone time . ..". We killed a bottle of wine, and I took on a chocolate martini for dessert - and came home. It was 4 degrees here last night. Um, brrr!

And this morning - had a great breakfast here with the other guests (beings it's a bed and breakfast and all). Conversations at these places are always fascinating. This morning's topic was genealogy (as one guest had been stuck in Salt Lake City for 24 hours yesterday, hit up the Genealogy museum) which brought out the LDS church and why they keep tabs on everyone who isn't LDS, to arranged marriages and rich kids in the Hamptons.

We came back to the room and went back to sleep. And let me tell you, that alone is the VERY BEST THING EVER for me. I crawled back into bed and we slept for almost three hours. We'll rally soon enough and hit lunch somewhere in town, and have a good dinner again tonight. (one I won't be able to taste, of course).

Oh, and we have a fireplace and a jacuzzi in the room .... and the floors are heated. Which is really handy when it's 4 fucking degrees outside.

Five Things You Probably Never Knew About Me (tagged by Kath):

1. I qualified for the State level Spelling Bee in Elementary School. It happened to coincide with a trip my ultra-cool grandmother invited me on (anything with her was and still is COOL). I chose going to western Kansas with my grandmother to visit her relatives, and I learned about: condoms in vending machines, the proper way to flip someone off, and cigarettes. One of the best times of my life, and I'm awfully glad I spent that time with her.

2. I'm adopted. I've mentioned that before, but it's worth mentioning again. Adopted at a month and twelve days old. Lived in a foster home for a short time before that. And I think it's awesome to have a child - because truly, he is my only 'real' blood relative. I'm amazed every time I look at him.

3. I was a music (vocal and piano) and theater major in college, but my favorite thing was the marching band - something I never qualified for in college. I hated playing the trumpet in high school and only stuck with it for marching band in high school. Total geek, I know. I'm seriously thrilled to watch the marching bands during the holiday parades. I am a nerd. I love marching band music. There, I said it!

4. Back when I was single, I turned down this Bronco player for an orgy in an hot tub in our complex. Niiiiiiiiiiiiice. (doesn't say much, really - he hit on everyone, I think)

5. My not-so-distant cousin is Kevin Costner. WOOOOOOOOOOOO. You know, that was okay to say during "Dances With Wolves", but not so much with "Water World" ....


Bonus Round: I'm sick. I have a cold. Zicam isn't working. Please remove my sinuses and tell me when it's all over.

I think, right?

Woke up this morning to news of a great Denver Broncos player shot and killed in a drive-by. That's just the saddest thing I've heard. You know me and how I love my Broncos ...

Tragic news.

On a happier note: We had a nice dinner last night with new friends. My brother called me at 12:05 to wish me a Happy New Year, and it occurred to me he was the first to think of me and wish me one. He's not too bad, I guess. :)

Happy 2007, people!