hubby got hired!

And is now a working bass player. We've been looking forward to this. So, check out some of his old stuff.

Grossly inappropriate for a kid's t-shirt, #2

I first started carrying my camera around because of a thrift store discovery--a T-shirt that would fit a preteen girl, that spelled out "I'm waiting for my conjugal visit" in sparkly letters.

Today, at Ross, I found the young boys' equivalent shirt. But at least I had my camera, this time.

Insufferable, insecure Starbucks people

I'll admit it, I am one. Hubby is more of a Dunkin' Donuts kind of guy--he wants coffee, hot, black, bitter, fast, and in a large container that won't mess up his truck (like his women?). I, however, want to listen to mellow jazzy music while I wait for a fancy, iced mocha thing. Or maybe herbal iced tea. Just gimme some atmosphere, ok?

My super-elastic expanding office

We moved Son #4 into his own room last week. It had been the sun room, used for miscellaneous storage. Yesterday I moved the last big thing out of his room--my filing cabinet. It is now right behind my desk, meaning I file things the second they're ready--not weeks later, when I walk into the storage room. This is an awesome development.

It also required that I move my desk, which meant that I needed to move the couch...if you give a moose a muffin, he's going to want some jam to go with it.

So now I have a larger, more comfortable, organized office, and a smaller, more cramped official living room. I am bucking for a total removal of the living room furniture, since we never really use that for guests, anyway...some day.

Just a temp

Today I took Hubby for yet another doctor visit. While we were gone, there was a powerful rainstorm. The Sons came home, followed by a dog. Now we have an unidentified dog in the house for the foreseeable future. We've posted online, taped fliers around the neighborhood, canvassed door-to-door, and taken her to the vet to scan for microchipping. At this point, there's nothing else I can think to do.

So, Otis, New Dog and I just went on a walk--two dogs on the same leash. Fun.

Not that I will admit it to the children. "Conoco", as Son #3 calls her, is Just A Temp.

update: After just about 24 hours, "Whoopie" went home with her family. All's well that ends well.

Summertime, and where's the damned remote?

The public schools got out 2 days earlier than I expected, so swim team started early, too. So our school year is over and a bit ragged at the end, there.

Let me just say once and for all (and with no small amount of shame and frustration with myself for feeling this incompetent):
--Dad went into the hospital mid-March, for 7 weeks.
--By the time he was home, I was full into May Madness at work.
--The day (the actual, very DAY) I said "I'm almost done with all this work, so I'll be able to catch up around the house and finish the school year on a strong note," Hubby broke his leg in 3 places, requiring surgery, umpteen trips to the doctor, and more bedrest than he can let himself take. He is scheduled to have the pins removed from his ankle during the week Son #2 and I are out of town, and is really not supposed to put any weight at all on that foot until then. He is exhausted and in pain and there's only so much I can do in my role as support person to help out, there.

In the face of this, there's an Adam Sandler movie coming out, about a guy who gets a universal remote that actually controls the UNIVERSE. I want one. I would like to put the world on "pause" until the house is clean, rewind back to make sure Hubby doesn't break his leg, and fast forward through most of these swim meets.

No respect, no respect at all

One of my humor pieces got picked up, so naturally I sent the link around. Mom was mildly disturbed that I wrote about her again (although, to be honest, it is only a fleeting mention and fairly flattering) and Sis wants to know "when you're going to write about me."

I gave her "when I do, you'll be the first to know."

Meth use isn't an epidemic, after all

...according to this study

So, does that mean that they'll stop harassing middle-aged moms who just want to buy enough cold medicine to be able to go to bed and recover for a few days? Probably not. We'll still be justifying our families' illnesses to some schmuck in a pharmacist's booth, because Someone, Somewhere, Might use cold medicine to make an illegal drug.

My editors can't spell, Unintentional Pun edition

It happened again. This time, my editor wrote the following article title:

"Illusions of the Eye: Staring Reggie Rice".

The thing is, I don't usually read through my articles when they're published. I just flip open to the page to make sure they're there, to see if the pictures came out, etc. So if there are editor errors in the body of the article, I might not even notice.

But this is driving me nuts.

I am the lowly freelancer. As editor, it is their (better-paying) job to find MY errors and correct them. Not to create new errors of their own.

Ugh. Grrrr. Grunt. Argh.

Just add it to the stack of clips I can't use, I know.

Whadda MAN

Hubby and I saw the X-rays of his ankle today. The screws are holding his leg together, basically. I am in awe.

Gee, Christine, you haven't blogged in a while...

Hubby went to upstate New York to fill in for a drummer friend. On arrival, he hurt his leg. He stayed up there, camped for 3 days, played drums, kicked butt, drove back down here, and thought, "Hmmmm...perhaps my foot should not be blue."

We spent an afternoon in the emergency room, where they diagnosed a broken tibia. Hubby complained about pain higher in the leg, and was brushed off.

The next day, the on-call doctor said the same. And again ignored all mention of pain elsewhere in the leg.

The third day, our insurance changed, so we had to visit yet ANOTHER doctor. Who said, "This is not just a broken tibia. You need more X-rays."

Hubby's leg is broken in three places.

Three.

Tomorrow he gets pins in his ankle. The Mom-in-law is coming down to watch the Sons while we are gone. Which means that today, I clean. A lot.