Packing some balls.

*DISCLAIMER: If you are freaked out about sex toys, have no desire to read anything about me and sex, just skip this damn post right now. Don't read this and be all judgey.
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So, you have all heard the hype about the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I have read them, obviously, and I'll do a whole post on that and my thoughts and all of that jazz. But the main thing about these books is that it is forcing women to maybe venture outside of their comfort zone and try things they were hesitant to try before.

Now, you know I am no stranger about sex or toys or anything like that, but there were some things in those books that even made me pause. And visualize. And think... OK. I'm down for that.

Coincidentally one of my favorite blogger friends, Shirley, messaged me to tell me she ordered some balls. Specifically, some ben wa balls.

Inserting and removing is easy as both beads have a smooth exterior and are connected to each other by a sturdy nylon string. The secret to these beads comes after you insert them, as you will start to feel vibrations as you move around. These vibrations are caused by two additional balls located inside each of the purple beads. When you move, you will cause the balls to roll around, creating vibrations. When done, you can remove them by pulling on the nylon string loop located at the end. 


Now, in the book Christian gives Ana some balls (*snicker*) and she wears them through a date and it makes her all hot and bothered. I was hesitant. But then I ordered them because they were only $6.95 and I figured hey- I've tried worse. 


They came in the mail on Saturday and what I did not realize was that the balls? Make noise. Yeah. They tinkle. They sound like jingle bells in your vagina, but other people can hear them. When I first put them in, completely awkward. To know you are shoving a pair of connected balls up there, it's kind of awkward and you don't know why people would agree to shove drugs up their hoo ha like you see on COPS and stuff. 


So.. once you shove them in, it's weird. And you have to kind of squeeze to keep them in. Then you start walking around (and doing your own rendition of "Jingle Bells") and whoa. The balls themselves kind of move a little bit, but the ball inside of the ball is what "vibrates" and gives you  happy vibrations all over. I walked up my stairs and holy hell that was kind of awesome. 


I was kind of proud of myself that I was able to keep them in for as long as I did. I went about four hours with them, cleaned the house, took a shower, had some fun time with Matt, and yeah.  It was a great time. I highly recommend you ladies buying some balls. 


The next thing that will be purchased is an under the bed restraint system. Fortunately, my friend is having a party of her own on the 19th so it's going to be a fun time. 

Boob-pocalypse averted.

Well lambwhores, today was the big day. My poor D's/DD's (depending on the day because I'm apparently a freak) were squished into a really intimidating twirly whirly machine. Let me just start by saying that I should absolutely know better than to assume anything will go according to plan for me because it never has. Why would this be any different? So, let's break it down.

I got off of work at 2 and thought I should just head over knowing I had to get over to Duluth, go through some construction, find a fucking parking spot, and go to my OB to get my actual order, which I then had to go across the street to the Breast Center. I figured I'd get there early, have time to read, and all would be good.

Not so. The problem with only going to my OB once a year is that I forget where to turn because I turn based on landmarks, not street signs, and so when all of a fucking sudden there's a Walgreens in the middle of my route I'm all like whoa. I figure it out and am pleasantly surprised they also paved the road because it was pretty bad before. I park into the first lot which is free, but now has all these special signs saying physical rehab parking ONLY or you'll get towed. I parked, had a mental argument with myself for a minute, and then decided I'll get towed because that's my luck, and so I had to leave that lot (tricky when everything is a one way street) and get into the paying ramp.

I walk over to the OB office and I see they've also re-decorated and it no longer looks straight out of the 80's, which probably explains the price hike in services. But whatever, the front desk lady is WAY nicer than the old one so I'll take it. She gets me an order and I see her hesitate when she writes "baseline" on it and she was going to ask, but decided not to, and gives me the form.

I take it and hop on my merry way across the street to the hospital where the Breast Center is and go right on it. Super nice lady at the desk there, obviously new and she's older (like maybe in her 60's), and she's getting me all squared away. It takes her 40 minutes to get my insurance card scanned in and my address entered but she's really nice and is trying to reassure me it'll only hurt for a second. I know she's lying, but she's already struggling with the scanner so I don't want to kill her buzz.

After we're done, I sit down and this nurse comes out to tell me that yeah... they don't do baselines for people under 40. (Something the fucking scheduler could have said on Monday when I called because she asked my date of birth) This meant I had to go back to the OB office to see a nurse practitioner to verify that I indeed, should be getting a mammogram. So I run down the hall, across the street, down the street, into the building and down to the lower level. Fortunately, I get in almost immediately with an NP I've never seen and she turns out to be absolutely amazing and hysterical. We get on perfectly and she thinks this whole thing is nuts, which I agree. So, she does the whole health history thing and then proceeds to feel up my boobs. I learn a few things:

1. She says I have really amazing boobs. Normally this would be awkward, but she seemed genuinely in awe of them. They are as symmetrical as boobs can be on the outside.

2. I have very dense boobs and I'm very symmetrical on the inside as well. She said it's really kind of unusual how completely even my boobs are. I crack a joke about how I have a thing about even all of the time and how I can say my OCD is literally through and through. She bursts out laughing.

3. I also have what is labeled as fiber cystic breast disease. Which... is kind of nothing to panic about it just means that the reason my boobs are sore ALL of the time is because they literally are very dense. These suckers are solid. She also said, "Well, your next stop should be less fun. Good luck." Which is kind of alarming?

She sends me back to the Breast Center.

Once I get there, the front desk lady is much more efficient getting me in. I get called in fairly quickly (it's about 3:45 at this point) and i get the whole run down about undressing from the waist up, cleaning your armpits so you have powder or deodorant on, and then waiting.

I had a good hair day and the gown makes me look fat. Unfortunately, I tried to get pictures of the machine but literally, it's DARK in there so nothing turned out. Sad face. But at least you got a picture of me, right?

So we go in and the lady who does the actual mammogram is in her 50's and is remarkably nice. Actually, every person in the Breast Center was so unbelievably nice. I must have looked petrified and she tried really hard to calm my nerves. Then she sees my file and sees the whole "her boobs are dense and sore all of the time" note and flat out says, "Oh honey, I'm sorry to be the one to do this to you. Just take some Advil when you get home." Guess what? That's the worst possible thing to say to a person who's about to pop the boob crushing cherry.

I step up to the machine and she tells me they take three pictures per boob and I'll be hugging the machine. She flat out says normally people just feel a slight pinch but mine is probably going to hurt more because it'll take more pressure to flatten my boob, and to just do the best I can. To be honest, I came at it with the approach that I pushed two babies out my vagina, I've got this shit. I also realized I have no problem being topless. Maybe it's the setting, but I realized I have never gotten squeamish having to take my shirt and bra off at any doctor visit. Even the tech was taken aback at how I was like, whipping my boob out eager to get this done with. She probably thinks I'm some Girls Gone Wild slut. Awesome.

We start the test with my left boob and squishing it down from top to bottom. No problem. I'm wondering at this point why people tried to scare me. Fucking asshole jerks. Ten seconds, and we're on to the side picture number 1. This one pulls in some the muscle around your boob. Let me be clear- this hurts like a mother fucker. I'd rather be gang raped with a spatula than have that happen again. I made the mistake of looking down and to see your boob get THAT flat? It is horrifying. I hear the beep and start breathing again, not realizing I had even stopped. The tech eyes me up and reminds me I actually cannot pass out in here, so to keep breathing. Side boob picture number 2 is not as bad, but it's painful. Then I get to switch boobs and feel more comfortable with how to hang onto the machine. Again, the top to bottom squish? No big deal at all. Side pictures? I yelped with my right boob. I also teared up and hyperventilated. The second side boob squeeze was worse on this side and I may have swore. The poor lady looked mortified but it's not her fault my boobs are so fucking dense.

The radiologist assistant tech looked at them quick and said nothing obvious jumped out at him. PHEW! I got to get dressed and leave. I pretty much ran out of there. Even a few hours later, you'd think I'd feel at ease but I don't. In fact I feel more stressed out now than I did before and I was fairly stressed before. I should get a letter in about ten days with more detailed findings. I also have to go onto a new birth control to help alleviate boob pain but was told basically, learn to live with it or have boobs removed. I'm going to live with it, in case you were worried about my boobs.

So.. your brave Lambwhore Leader did it. I am now wearing a sports bra because my boobs fucking HURT. Jackson jumped onto me when I got home and I know I teared up. Then I banged my right boob into the door frame, which hurt like a mother. So yeah. It's done. The girls were photographed in all their glory and they are apparently just about perfect. Which, obviously. Look at their owner.

Wishes, Assholes, and Boobs.

Leave it to me to bring two random topics together, right?

First up, do you remember my friend Jessica? She's the one who's been living in the Mayo Clinic in Rochester since DECEMBER awaiting a heart and liver transplant. You can go HERE to see the news story on her, which was really good. If you pay close attention, you'll see me and my friend Amy in the background from when we visited her. But I say you should watch it anyways to be blown away by her humility and perspective considering how crappy things seem right now. Talk about embracing a positive attitude. Anyways.

A few months ago she asked for people to send her postcards because she's probably bored as shit and would like the distraction. I love me some trash TV, but you can only be entertained by it for so long. So I am asking YOU to send her a postcard or something saying I sent you and you hope she does well and gets her organs soon. It would brighten her day for sure and it's important for her spirits to be up. Correspondence can be mailed to:

Jessica Danielson

Patient Care Unit MB4E-744

St. Mary's Hospital

1216 Second Street SW

Rochester, MN 55905

You don't need to know a person first hand to send them a positive thought and I think the lesson we can learn from Jessica is to appreciate each and every day we have and not take it for granted. It'd be great to show Jessica that even strangers are rooting for her. 

But my encounter with a total asshole has made me think of her more than usual this week. I think of her often but this week even more so. 

I won't go into the complete story about it, but let me just say this: When you are hired to do a specific job, it's with the understanding that sometimes unexpected things will come up and make your day a little more hectic. That goes without saying for every job in the world. Not everything will conform to the way you think it should be in your head and your job is to roll with the punches and not be an asshole. I don't appreciate your sarcasm, hostility and flat out saying something is bullshit when A) I had nothing to do with the mix up, B) accidents happen and sometimes people forget to communicate something, we're all busy and C) it's not the end of the god damn world. It would have taken this person maybe five minutes to fix the problem but instead, they chose to be an asshole, rude to me and another person, and make themselves look like incompetent idiots. I don't care how smart you are or how critical you think your position is somewhere, you have no right to treat anybody like this. End of story, period. 

In other news, I have my very first mammogram tomorrow. I'm not going to lie, I am absolutely scared shitless. It's at 3:20 and I'm actually going to try to get pictures so I can share the experience with you. You probably won't get a boob shot, but stay tuned because you just don't know what I'll give you. 

Doomsday probably isn't going to come.

No, I'm not talking about Florida and there incredibly insane and dangerous Stand Your Ground law which essentially means you can shoot anyone if you feel threatened. If I had a gun and that law existed in Wisconsin, I'd be killing at least three people every day. Not even kidding.

But I'm talking about this show Doomsday Preppers. I was told by the lovely and hilarious Finny that I absolutely should be watching this what with my love of Hoarders. Have you seen this show? I have it on DVR now and I watch it absolutely horrified and terrified.

Folks- there isn't much scarier than Mormons, but when you pair Mormons with guns? Bitch you best be running.

One episode I watched focused on three "preppers". One was a guy who believes that we're all going to die by solar flare. He is fully prepared to kill his neighbors if it should come to that. He makes his wife, who looks like she was maybe a mail order bride to begin with, practice scenarios is case marauders come and try to take their weird radios and shit. He was tame compared to the next woman.

She believes that someone is going to unleash a nuclear bomb in the United States. Not in a main metropolitan where the death toll would be devastating beyond belief, but rather in Great Falls, Montana. Because when you think of "places that should be bombed" Montana hits the top of the list, doesn't it? Moreover, she believes once Great Falls is bombed, they will all flock to her in Helena because she's "upwind". So she has converted her house into a really scary version of organized hoarding. She has soup packets taped in door panels, food taped to shelving, stored under beds, in rafters, behind and in books, basically if it's a bizarre location, she will store some type of food there. Don't worry, if you show up bleeding, she has stocked up on maxi pads to tape to your head. Her poor husband is an unwilling participant and you pretty much could tell he thinks she is bat shit crazy but you can't fight crazy.

But the topper of it all?

The guy who lives in Idaho with his family of like 5 kids. They practice foraging for bugs and shit and they make  meals out of meal worms and other disgusting bugs. All of the kids have to eat them so they get used to them should they need to. Why would they need to? Well, this guy thinks someone is going to dirty bomb Idaho. I don't know if he believes in dirty bombs hitting Idaho or maybe lives near meth labs.

They have routine "drills" in which they are seen taping their windows, going to a safe room (which is on the second floor of the house), gather weapons, and they pump air out of the house? I'm not sure what the accordion like thing on the wall was, but the kids were enthusiastically pumping it during their drill. They have a fox hole too. Because nobody will thing a mound of dirt with wood and obviously holes is out of place in a desert with nothing around it. Oh no.

What alarms me about this was that this guy has his kids, some as young as 7 out there shooting guns. Does anyone else feel this is kind of scary? It's one thing to say you're teaching your kid hunting safety, though at that age even that's kind of pushing it for me, but it's quite another to tell them they need to learn how to shoot because if they fail they will die. Christ. When I was 7 I was worried about stranger danger, good touch/bad touch, and not mastering straw insertion in a Capri Sun. (You know what I'm talking about, sometimes it's a bitch to get the straw in just right.)

I almost choked on my pizza rolls when I saw at the end of the show he now has an AK-47. Holy fucking shit. First off, why are regular people allowed to buy guns like this? In what "hunting" situation would an AK-47 be the best choice of a weapon? I really am starting to think that while background checks are fine, maybe a mental health examination should also be mandatory. Clearly not every gun toting crazy has broken a law yet, but they should not have weapons. Can you imagine if Idaho got a huge dust storm? This guy might think dirty bombs are dropping and he shoots down the mail man mistaking him for a looter.

Not to mention that not only are the guns disturbing, but so is the woman hoarding food. It's sad to think that she's hoarding this food that is most likely going to expire anyways when you have hundreds if not thousands of children starving in Montana alone. Instead of prepping for a nuclear bomb that might not ever come in her lifetime, she could be doing a good deed and feeding children.

It's interesting to see how one event in a person's life can morph into a really unrealistic fear that they feel the need to prepare for though the plausibility of it ever happening are slim to none. If Matt started hoarding shit like this I would have to take over everything, get him on medication and send him to a therapist.

Charmed, I'm sure.

I don't give enough love to my fellow Etsy sellers and so I'm going to make a quick post about something very cute my friend Jamie is doing in her shop.



Customized charms! Jamie is ridiculously talented and she will put your crafty to shame. She has made me awesome jewelry, Olivia is fitted with the cutest hair accessories, and she's painted pictures for Jackson's room. This is the one she has made for me and I am anxiously awaiting it's arrival.

SO, if you want something awesome for yourself, have a friend's birthday coming up, or want to get your mom a non lame gift like you have every other year, go to Jamie's shop and get your own customized piece. Also? If you use coupon code CHARM15, you can get 15% off your order. (Be sure to tell her that I sent you, too!)

Don't say I never do anything for you.

My whip, in both senses of the word.

So my fun bitch Shannon did a post earlier this week about her car and what's in it. And since I can't remember if I have ever done this... here we go. I only wish it were more fabulous so you can at least be jealous, but no.

 So, this is what the front looks like. I've got my Bath & Body bird smelly thing on my visor, my beads hanging off my mirror...

the center console under my radio and stuff. The cup holders are pushed in, but I have like 40 cd's shoved in the pocket, the drawer is full of sunglasses, Febreeze and a power adapter. And I have a pair of black flats because I've been wearing heels and I like to have a backup.

 This is a little pop up thingie on my dash. Tons of first aid shirt, tire air thingies, paper, glasses that don't work for my eyes anymore, more smelly freshener stuff and the addresses to places in the Twin Cities I like so I have them handy to enter into the GPS.

 So yeah. My iPod adapter sucks shit so I have to haul cd's for variety. Here are two of my nine buckets, not including the huge binders I have. Currently have Civil Twilight, Death Cab for Cutie, Florence + the Machine, Chiodos, Kings of Leon and The Civil Wars in my player.

 The back seat. Poor Jackson has to ride in a girl seat.

 The way back- I refuse to put my snow brush away.. just in case.

 OH yeah, my glove compartment. I have an emergency blanket I've never used (knock on wood).

There's my beast. I have a lot miles on her and she has served me well. Matt and I are hoping to trade her up maybe next year.. we'll see.

Anyways. So my other whip. Um, I've been looking online for new toys that won't scare the shit out of me. The problem with reading the 50 Shades of Grey series is that it's left me feeling all experimental... until I look at pictures. Um, I'm kind of scared. But at the same time, kinky fuckery sounds kind of awesome.. so I'm going to take the plunge. Matt thinks I have lost my damn mind but I haven't, things needs to spice up around here. I've decided that if I can get hot and bothered by a book, we have a problem.

Boob update and spreader bars.

I am just going to give you a quick post tonight so you know I'm alive, and I'll get to why I'm cutting you short this evening in a little bit. But first....

BOOB UPDATE:

Since my last post about boobies and feeling them up to check for lumps, I have exciting developments to share. As it turns out, the 1-800 number on the back of your insurance card is a terrible place to go to with questions because that girl was WRONG. Coincidentally, so was my doctor and whoever she spoke with because lucky for me, I happen to have a blog reader who works at my insurance company. Yeah, I have hook ups and connections I didn't even know I had.

That's kind of how bad ass I am.

So, who shall remain nameless, told me that not only is my mammogram COVERED, but she'll put something in my file in case I get it and they try to bill me.

*Let's all just have a moment to rejoice in what we're dubbing, "Sara's Boob Celebration".*

That means tomorrow I am going to call and schedule myself a mammogram for the next available appointment. I am absolutely petrified to have my boobs smooshed in a machine, because between me and you, I totally tried to do it in the shower myself, like squish them, and they do not squish. And the pain that occurred while doing so was kind of horrible so I am kind of terrified for this appointment. Not as much as I am about potentially having to get a tetanus shot someday or having my blood taken, but still. It's significant.

In other news, I have been *consumed* by the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy that has been dubbed mommy porn. It absolutely is mommy porn and I wouldn't have it any other way. Things I've learned about myself in the first two books is that I think I want one of these:

Which, when Matt saw what I posted on Facebook about this, he was kind of horrified. Which is strange to me because he's a freak, but whatevs. I have also decided that purchasing a head board and foot board for our bed is the next big purchase. I have grossly underestimated the value in these things.

So, until I finish the last book (which will probably be tomorrow)...

People I'd like to shank: dumb parents.

My Facebook feed blew up today with people up in arms about the news that a kindergarten student was arrested, in handcuffs, and taken to jail. Now, as a parent in general but more specifically with a kindergarten student myself, I was initially appalled by this. I mean, at six years old that can be a fairly traumatic incident and it makes you wonder... did they stab a person? Bring a gun to school? What did this kid do?

Well I'll tell you. The kids threw an epic ass tantrum which included throwing furniture, ripping things off the wall and allegedly some of this resulted in the principal being injured.

Again, I was like, well... maybe they should have called the parent and said, "Hey, your brat of a child is out of control, come get her." If you read the article it says the school made six attempts at trying to contact the mother. Um, really? Six? And mom never answered? Well that's kind of bull shit.

The parents are obviously pissed off but my favorite part of this is when the mom flat out says her daughter has mood swings and this was just a bad day. Really? Because I have had mood swings my whole life and though I wish I could act like that sometimes, I don't because I learned from day one that kind of behavior will not be tolerated. I bet they are going to try to sue and that's lame.

But this begs the conversation- what should schools do? If you really think about it, schools are already in a tough situation no thanks to our government who are continually cutting back on education funding. Teachers are stressed out to the max and then you have parents who aren't even connected enough to be able to control their own kids. School is not meant to be a daycare for your kids when you can no longer deal with them, it's a place to foster education for not only your child, but all of the children.

What gets me is that there are so many parents out there that feel they either don't have an obligation to actually raise their children with consequences and/or accolades for their actions. They feel stressed out and overwhelmed by the job at hand as a parent and I fully understand that. I have two kids, I know first hand it's difficult to get everything done in the course of a day and still be a quality parent for your children and be plugged in with their academic life. But ultimately, when you decide to have children, no matter what happens it is your duty to provide your kids with every tool they need to grow and be functioning, law abiding citizens out in the world.

Which brings me back to the story. Now, I have a feeling just by the fact that they tried to get a hold of mom six times that this is an unplugged parent. I would bet my next pay check on the fact that this probably wasn't the first time this has happened at school. Quite frankly, I applaud the school for doing what they did because maybe, just maybe, that will scare the kid enough to do better. Doubtful since I'm sure mom is at home right now talking about what assholes the school are and that cops are jerks. You know what? Most cops are jerks, but I have to at least think that having to deal with mostly the lower quality of society can do that to a person after awhile.

So when I see parents letting their kids runs around like crazy and be rude as fuck out in public, or when I see kids be completely disrespectful to their parents and other adults, I feel like shanking the parents. Clearly you suck as a parent and you need to do better. Follow through with punishment, give meaningful consequences, don't fall into the line your kids give you. Parents are so afraid of hurting their kids' feelings or taking away things that help them fit in with their friends and that doesn't do them any favors. If I at any time my parents got a call from the school saying I acted like that? I would have been terrified to go home because I knew nothing the school would do to me would come any where close to what my parents would dole out. And it wasn't like they beat me, I can count on one hand how many spankings I've ever had and I can tell you what I did to get each and every one. But my parents took everything away and not for a week- I'm talking I'd lose things for a month. I remember my brother lost his bike for the entire summer. To be 12, a boy and bikeless? Your summer just shit the big one. But you be the never did it again.

So parents? Stop being fucking pussies with your kids. You forget you're the one in control. You forget you're the one charged with raising the heathen so if they are turning into rude as shit, disrespectful, law breaking assholes, that's directly because of you. FYI.

Let's talk about boobs. And let's throw in some ovaries as well.

I bet you were hoping I would flash some boob for you, but alas... I have failed you. There will be no gratuitous boob flashing here this evening, but instead let's talk about something that I've always felt was wrong but now that I'm a victim of it I'm even more enraged.

Which is how every good vigilante starts out.

I will start this off by saying I am a huge supporter of breast cancer awareness and prevention. I feel my boobies regularly and suggest you all do the same. Apparently though, I kind of suck at it? At my last doctor's appointment about two weeks ago or so she felt a lump. Not a huge one, not something glaringly obviously, but noticeably different than the other boob. She tells me I have very fiber cystic boobs anyways so it could very well mean nothing, more so because my period was about to happen and that kind of shit happens when your ovaries decide to attack you.

It's awesome to be a girl.

The only alarming thing was that in the back of my head I heard the exact same thing about the same boob at my OB appointment back in like November. Not one to jump to conclusions like a crazy white girl, I remain pretty calm and noncommittal about it. Then the doctor starts asking me about family health history and I wasn't super clear on it so I told her what I did know. My mom has had a biopsy, my maternal grandmother had a double mastectomy and eventually died from breast cancer (second bout of it). Her mother died of it as well even after a mastectomy. An aunt or something had breast cancer as well. Everybody was in their early 30's when it was first diagnosed and they all died by age 60. Except my mom who's never had it and is just fine now. But as I'm saying this, a little bit of dread comes creeping up my neck and I think... well shit. I always thought I'd die of a brain tumor but alas, my fucking boobs might be waging a sneak attack. Whores.

That's when my doctor flat out tells me that it's not a matter of if I'll have breast cancer, it's more like when. Well golly gee, that makes me just happy to hear. But she's right. I could do all of the genetic testing in the world but if you were a gambler, you'd gamble on me having breast cancer eventually.

So we go through the procedure of contacting my insurance about getting a mammogram and guess what they tell us? That I am not eligible to have my mammogram covered until I'm 40. FORTY. That's in ten years. A DECADE. I could very well be dead by then.

Now, I think this is some kind of bull shit because as a tax payer I am appalled that my government has nothing for me. Wouldn't you think an insurance company would rather pay for preventative things rather than surgery, chemo, and every other expensive treatment out there? You'd think that but you'd be wrong. The pisser of this was that the doctor, who was just as pissed off as I was, tells me if I lived in Canada and had universal health care this wouldn't even be a question. There would be no discussion it would just be assumed I could get this preventative care. But here? GOD FORBID we do such a thing.

So what do I do? Here are my options:

A) Wait until I'm 40 and hope for the best.
B) Get a mammogram and pay out of pocket. This would be a huge financial burden on us. I can't even ask Matt to work another hour of overtime because he is consistently at 70+ hours a week at work as it is.
C) Try to see if I can get an ultrasound instead and see if that would detect anything suspicious. Even if it did, I'd be right back at B again.

What I'm going to do:

I am going to call the insurance company yet again tomorrow to see if I can get a mammogram. I hope that maybe if I get someone who speaks fluent English and is the owner of two boobs and a vagina, I can get a better answer. Failing that, I'm going to ask about the ultrasound. Ultimately, I will be making an appointment for something because to not do anything would be reckless and irresponsible considering I have a family to think about. Unfortunately, we're in the always fucked over Middle Class living the American Dream, so we do not qualify for any programs to help defray the cost of things like this. It just frustrates me that resources out there who are meant to help people are either not there or are being used up by people who are fully capable of helping themselves and choose not to. (I'm talking to you, Mrs. Prada purse carrying, designer clothes wearing, Hummer driving welfare recipient buying Cheetos at the grocery store because you flat out tell the cashier you have the worst fucking munchies in a week, as you drive back to your income housing. Yeah, I'm pretty sure you could get a real job if you had none of the handouts that let you afford all of this.)

And can I just say I am really pissed off about all of the birth control debate right now? Seriously, I don't think any man has a right to say whether or not birth control should be covered under a health insurance plan or not. The fact is, some of us take it for reasons other than contraceptive. And not all of us are whores. I have to take it because my insurance won't cover Matt to get the big snip snip, and I'm sorry- I don't have $1500 just laying around. But if I have to pay for a mammogram and he works more hours, that might just work itself out since I'll never see him and getting pregnant won't be a concern.

Ah-- I see what you did there, Government. Sneaky bitches.

I'd also like to know how its fair that rulings and laws and such are made based on religion or what could very well end up being a book of fiction? Really? Not everyone is Christian, why should we have to live by the rules of that general faith? I don't get it. If you don't believe in birth control or abortions or whatever, then don't do it. Why can't it just be that simple? Why can't we offer the choice to everyone and if it suits you, super. If not, no harm done?

But the bottom line? Every time I hear someone bitch about Obama, ObamaCare, or Democrats? I get angry. Because I feel like until you are in a position like this or where Matt and I have worked so hard to get back from, you don't get it. Unless you know what it's like to not qualify for WIC while pregnant but can't buy milk for your daughter? I kind of feel like you shouldn't have a say in any of this. Especially these people who are grossly wealthy telling me that moving towards a universal healthcare would only make everything worse. Oh yes, because what we have now is so stellar.

So. Think happy thoughts about my boobies, even though I'm sure it's nothing and I'm just angry and hyper sensitive and frustrated. No matter what, I will get checked out even if it means I sell one or both of my cats into prostitution or breeding. Matt and I both have good kidneys, maybe we can each sell one. Who knows. But it'll happen and I'll keep you updated. It'll be fine, but just think of people like me who get stuck in these ridiculous predicaments because people don't consider the consequences of refusing to compromise with others.

I'm about to get all Blair Witch in this bitch.

So, if you are my friend in real life you have heard my stories about Lillian. I don't know Lillian personally, and I bet she was a nice and feisty woman in her day, but the bitch is creepy me out. And before I get into this, let me just be clear- I'm a fan of old people. I like them, they are all right in my book. I'm not even against dead people, I mean- we all die, I don't think death should be something that makes you not like a person. But Lillian is creeping me out and now I think she has some friends.

First off, who is Lillian? Lillian is this lady who owned my house a long time ago. For whatever reason (she either died or she went to a nursing home to die), she sold the house to some do-it-yourself Menards employee who absolutely should not be a home improvement store employee because based on his work here, he is incompetent and maybe mentally handicapped. Anyways. So, she sold the house and when we were at the house closing as we were buying it, we had two conversations with the guy:

1. The toilet apparently "fell through the ceiling" at some point, though he is pretty sure he had fixed it. I almost shit myself because A) I had eaten Taco Johns right before and I was five months pregnant and B) not only did we not know that before we just signed our lives away but we had a very thorough home inspection because of the obvious things we knew that were wrong with the house. (Update- it turned out he was wrong, he just never installed the toilet correctly, which is why it was uneven. Idiot.)

2. Oh yeah, the house is haunted.

Now, when we moved in we really didn't notice anything. Everything was FINE. Then we started putting the addition to the house on and things got weird. We'd hear someone walking around upstairs, we'd actually see her in the living room at the base of the stairs, we have seen her sitting in a chair (the chair was like a ghost too, not like she was on our chair) looking out the window in the living room, etc. We've see cupboard doors do weird things, you get a weird feeling in the house sometimes, all kinds of stuff. Now, as far as we know only Matt and I have experienced these things. It always flares up when we do any kind of work on the house, except when we did the cubby hole- but I think that's because we were restoring a part of the house to how it used to be.

When Olivia was two we moved her into her "big girl room" because I was pregnant with Jackson so we would need the smaller room for the nursery. It made sense because then I wouldn't have to rearrange furniture, etc. Well, the room Olivia went into was our old room which was previously the master bedroom. Also, Lillian's room. I would put her to bed and hear odd things on the monitor but really, thought nothing of it. Now, Olivia has always been scared of the dark and really a shitty sleeper since the day she was born so I just assumed it's an Olivia thing. I have a freak daughter and this is something that will be endearing to her future spouse someday. I remember her telling me once when she was two or three that the "old lady sings" to her or talks to her and that's why she doesn't sleep. Again, we had a plan for her to tell the old lady that it was her bedtime and she needs her beauty sleep. For awhile, this seemed to work.

Until tonight.

At bedtime, Olivia was kind of hysterical. She doesn't want her door shut, she wants her mini blinds open, the closet shut, a flashlight and a night light. Basically, it comes down to the fact she sees "big white blobs" and they are scary. So I ask her how big they are (thinking maybe it's a light shining from the street, a shadow, a reflection, something) and she says they are like people. She said yesterday she woke up and there were people in her room. So she's asking me if I lock the doors and could I hear if someone came in the house or not.

Not even kidding you, I'm fucking freaked out.

Never mind the fact that I am terrified of the dark (not so much when I'm sleeping, but I don't like walking around in the dark no matter where I am) myself. The last few nights I have been up later than usual reading books while Matt snores and after I'm done reading, I have to pee. So I get up and have to turn all the lights on as I go to the laundry room to pee, and on my way back? I run as fast as I can and jump into the bed. What makes the last week or two different is that on my way back to my room (which is not a long distance at all), the back of my neck goes cold and the hair on my body stands up. I am now terrified in my own house. But I think about it, I was in Chicago and walked around our room in the dark and I was fine. I've walked around my mom's house in the dark and I'm fine. But every time I am in my house alone, dark or not, I feel creeped out. Oh!!! And I should make mention my cats are even more dysfunctional than usual. Batman especially, he keeps slinking around the house and making weird noises. Stumpy is kind of lazy and extra stupid, but he hissed at absolutely nothing yesterday.

So.

What do I do? I need to tell Lillian it's time for her to go. And take her homeboys with her. Do I have any Ghost Buster readers? Do you have any suggestions for me??

Finished product/tale of a glutton for punishment.

You want to see the final product of the Great Baseboard Project of 2012, don't you? OK. Here we be:

 It's a really light color carpet so it has truly brightened up my living room paired with the bright apple green and cream walls, white trim. The stairs look actually amazing.

 Doesn't the living room look a million times better???? Mind you, I have no art work or pictures on the wall yet as I'm still struggling with what the fuck I'm going to do with them. If anyone has any interior design suggestions, feel free to step up.

 This is the view if you stand from my kitchen and look towards the door. My sister in law decided last minute our door should be green instead of white, so there we go. We have a little pop of green on that wall now.

 Just ignore the fact my room is a MESS. I have no desk, hence the garbage can and papers on the floor. Plus, this is right when I woke up and I have a problem with making my bed. *Confession*

So the cubby. Oh the cubby. Well, right now it's being used to hold blankets and toys. I have no shelving, no nothing in there, stuff is just on the floor. Basically, I have no progress to report in there. But what I can report on is that when putting toys away this weekend I saw this:

 God mother fucking dammit it all to god damn fucking hell.

 The fruit of my loins, otherwise called my children, wrote all over the fucking wall in the inside of the cubby. Apparently, they thought it was a a chalk board. Olivia blamed Jackson right off the bat and I figured the random scribbles were his. But in that top picture you can clearly see someone is writing out names and words. Fuck me. SO, we're going to paint over it (obviously) and though it's not the end of the world since we haven't painted in there yet, it's still annoying because why??? WHY would they think this was OK? They are on the bad list this week.

 I am most proud of this section of the wall above the cubby. Why? Because not only did I commit to some floating shelves, I actually found cute thingies to put on them. Sure, they are more spaced out than I want, but whatever. I have some cute green things, a picture, a candle, and a weird silver mushroom. But the reason I've waited so long was because I was on the hunt for throw pillows. For some reason, my room doesn't feel complete without two cute pillows on my couch and I refused to settle.

 Until I saw these bad bitches at JCPenney this last weekend. I wasn't even going to go to JCPenney, let alone upstairs to housewares. But I went up thinking I could find some clearance clothes for the kids (fail) and on my way out I saw only two of these. All lonely on a shelf. They practically had a beam of light on them softly calling my name. Never mind one pillow was $26 and I bought two, they MATCH MY ROOM PERFECTLY therefore they are a necessary expense. My only downfall is that was with me during the purchase and almost choked on his gum. But whatever- they match the room perfectly and that means no expense should be spared!

Right???

Anyways. Oh! And the best part of it all is that while I was in Chicago and Matt pawned the kids off on his parents for the three days I was gone because it's hard to watch them on your own and do everything like I do and he just can't handle it and I say HA HA HA I am awesome and you are not, he put the baseboards in. Sure, they aren't done correctly but he says I should be happy that he put forth the effort. I know when to pick my battles because.....

The GREAT DECK PROJECT 2012 shall commence. Soon(ish).

Jigga say wha? Yeah, that's right- I am a glutton for home improvement punishment because I have decided that the free decking that has been killing my grass for the last two years needs to make it's permanent home as my deck a reality this year. That, and the back steps are detached from the house and I see an ER visit in our future with a kid if Matt doesn't get this shit rolling. And an ER visit is a hell of a lot more expensive than some decking project.

Right??

OK, so how big will this bitch be?

Tee-fucking-dah. It's kind of huge-ish? But it'll be nice! And we have enough to do the entire thing and we just need to buy some screw thingies, railing, and deck block. Oh and to rent a digger thing to dig around the foundation to put insulation in and a pneumatic jack hammer thingie to break up the steps. Which is one super gigantic hunk of stone and cement? It's super old and the neighbor called in the pros to remove it because a regular jack hammer wouldn't do the job. But you know us, we only half ass shit up in here, so Matt is determined to do it himself, which may result in an ER visit after all. But the goal is to get this done by Father's Day.

You're laughing with me, I know you are.

Remember when I found a condom under my carpet?

Yes, I'm sure you all remember the start of the Great Baseboard Project of 2012. In true Strand fashion, we half ass nothing around here and we go big and expensive or we don't start at all.

I have some flooring news. Just hold your panties and bite your lip bitches, WE HAVE CARPET. We have like legit carpet free of stains, smells, contact with a used condom, not falling apart and doesn't leave you feeling like you maybe caught the next plague after walking on it. This carpet squishes between your toes. You see where the vacuum has been. You want to roll around on it all day long even though it used up your entire tax return. You don't even care because it's so glorious and so much more than you thought it could be.

But, before all of that happened, it had to be installed. And oh what a to do that was. I don't think you appreciate the amount of shit you actually own until you try to combine three rooms of shit into one. You have to get creative.

 That was my dining room before my bed and couch were shoved in there. Matt and I moved it all the night before the carpet installers came and holy nightmare. I purged as I went but it just doesn't matter. I also don't recommend that you pack your clothes in first so you can't get to them because you will wear dirty underwear the next day. *The More You Know*.

Then once that was all moved, we started ripping out the old carpet because you got a cheaper install price if you did that. Matt was confident it wouldn't be an issue. He started with the stairs since that carpet wasn't actually attached except for the top stair and maybe one half way down.

 Then he started ripping up everything else up. It was disgusting. We learned several things:

1. The carpet was significantly wet at one point as there was huge stains on the wood floor.
2. The wood floor was in ROUGH shape and Matt had to re-cut a plank that was snapped in half but someone used concrete filler to fix it at one point.
3. The wood was filthy. To say filthy is not even close to what it was like but you know I was in there sweeping and mopping it several times before I went to bed that night.

 So you can kind of see how jacked up the place looked.

Oddly enough, the guy whop put the carpet down didn't use tack strips or whatever, he just stapled the carpet to the floor. Which meant we had to pound in a lot of nails and pull out a lot of staples. We were both exhausted by the time we went to bed, but we had to be up extra early the next day.

I went to work, Olivia went to school, Jackson went to my mom's and Matt stayed home to supervise installation. The guy was so nice and he did a fantastic job. Everything looks so much better, it's really night and day.

The best part? As he was finishing up, Matt and Jackson went to get supper so I stayed back to supervise. The guy said our house felt weird and I just casually say, "Oh yeah, the house is actually kind of haunted? Lillian was probably making sure you didn't fuck up her house." His face was priceless. But he is a general contractor apparently and so I was asking him about my po-dunk front porch which looks like it's been through an earthquake and he said if it were him he'd rip it off and rebuild. Oh awesome. JUST what I want to hear.

But I bet you want to see pictures of the finished product? Well you get that tomorrow. As well as a story about the cubby hole.

Jackson is 4. Watch out, ladies.

So I've had a busy few days. I can't wait to tell you all about it because you will laugh. All in this post. Let's start.

 First up, the birthday boy on his actual birthday. He is so freaking cute I can barely stand it.

 Jackson and his big sister! They are like best friends and he absolutely adores her.

Our tradition is that on their birthday they get to open a present from us, they get to pick dinner, and we have a little at home celebration. Then I typically do a bigger party for family and friends that weekend.

 So here's Jackson opening his gift...

 ... and he got Bakugans! He loves these little weird things and I don't know why. But he was plenty excited to bring them to Grandma's house to show her.

His dinner that he chose was hotdogs, macaroni, spicy Doritos and orange soda. Completely random, but whatever. I see he had the exact same dinner for his 3rd birthday once I looked back at pictures. What a goofball.

 Then I made him a cake. I ordered a legit cake for his party, but I figured I should make one (since Matt is bitching about my cake supplies I just HAD to have for my $100 worth of classes) for him. And to be honest, I made the batch of frosting and decided, oh fuck it. I'm done.

 But Jackson didn't care...

 he was thrilled at his ghetto cake because it had his name on it.

 So fast forward a few days. I was sick. Like, I legit sick, thought I was maybe dying sick. I had been for days and I just couldn't shake it. Finally, his party was ready to go for Friday at dinner time, but I woke up at 2am with quite literally, the worst neck and throat pain I have ever had in my life. Now, it had been really painful for days but when I woke up I could not longer swallow and talking was tricky.

Matt starts looking up urgent cares and I'm trying to figure out how much an ER visit would be and my card says at least 25% of the bill so I'm thinking that isn't going to happen. My best option was to visit an urgent care inside of a grocery store at 8am. Totally did that. I went to urgent care in a grocery store looking like death. Coincidentally, I was there with a bunch of other people all with the same thing. We get our swab and we all have strep. Except I have some super strain of strep since I was on day NINE. So the nice nurse gave me 3000 mg of amoxicillin a day for like ten days or something. It's a lot of pills, that's all I know. She gave me the go-ahead to continue with the party, which sucked because then I was getting a migraine.

I had to brave the Walmart pharmacy who is quite honestly, the slowest pharmacy ever. Who knew counting would be such a high level skill? Apparently, a high profile education is needed to be a pharmacy technician. I get home, take some pills, take a nap and only feel marginally human by the time the party came around. I don't know if you know what that kind of dosage of amoxicillin does to a person, but for me? Rampant diarrhea. I know you care to know that, but it's important to note because through the entire party? We had issues. Let's just say it was a good thing I had my period at the same time. If you know what I mean. 

But, the Woody Buzz party must go on.

 I made our Claw game- kids had to grab prizes out of the bucket using the tongs. It was a HUGE hit with the kids.

 And we had it at a pizza place so that was actually really great- clean up was a breeze.

 The kids decorated rocket ships. I spent a week tracing and cutting out these damn things and it was worth it- each kid made like three or four.

 Jackson showing off his claw skills.

The best part of the day was actually at bedtime. Jackson is hands down, the sweetest little boy there ever was. He grabs my face and says, "Mama- you give me the best parties. This was my best birthday ever." Um, melt my heart! Totally makes feeling like death yet going all out for my kiddo worth it.

But god DAMN. My baby is four. I can't believe he is four already. I remember being pregnant with him at a really shitty time in my life wondering if I could even do this. I remember being so scared, stressed out, sad, tired, everything but happy. And when he was born? It was like the clouds literally parted over me and I knew it was all going to be OK, that I could do this, and no matter what happened between Matt and I that this little guy would see me through. It was such a different feeling than when I had Olivia that it made me realize how much post partum depression took from me with Olivia. Jackson was the best baby, he's the kindest little boy with such a sensitive little heart. He's a goofball, he's energetic, he loves everybody, and he tells me he's going to love me forever and it's OK if I love him forever too.

Happy Birthday little monkey- mama loves you to the moon and back.

The Thirteen

Are you in the mood for a creepy and great book?

The Thirteen by Susie Moloney

Haven Woods is suburban heaven, a great place to raise a family. It’s close to the city, quiet, with great schools and its own hospital right up the road. Property values are climbing, and the crime rate is practically nonexistent.

Paula Wittmore hasn’t been back to Haven Woods since she left as a disgraced teenager. Now she’s returning to care for her suddenly ailing mother, and she’s bringing her daughter and a pile of emotional baggage. She’s also bringing, unknowingly, the last chance for her mother’s closest frenemies . . . twelve women bound together by a powerful secret that requires the sacrifice of a thirteenth.

OK, so this books starts off immediately with a fairly gruesome suicide of a seemingly nice, older woman. You think she's grief stricken over the loss of her husband but no. It turns out she is kind of rebelling against the witch coven she belongs to. Basically, every woman had to make a major sacrifice (the death of a husband, child, etc) and in turn, they are rewarded with beauty and success. Sounds kind of messed up, but hey- who am I to judge? 

I really liked this book, it sucked me in fast and every character has their own of weirdness and the story is good. Honestly, I know it's supposed to be kind of spooky and supernatural, parts of it were sad. I mean, to think a person would take success and beauty instead of a loved one. It's an interesting take on witches and this is only my second book dealing with witches but I really like them and it's an interesting subject to read. 

I will say that probably my only complaint, OK one of them, is that there are so many characters to keep track of. The author switches characters from chapter to chapter and a few times I had to stop and think back about the last time this character had a voice and so, reading this before bed was more challenging than I wanted. I also kind of didn't love Paula, the main character who has come back to Haven Woods. I didn't flat out hate her, but she's one of those really narrow minded characters who don't do well in life and can't figure out that it's because they continually make bad choices. You can deal with it, but you still want to slap her up sometimes. 

Overall? It's a good book if you want to be sucked in immediately and be held there. Susie has a website that you can visit HERE. Also see what other bloggers had to say about this book HERE. 

Bitchfest because we can.

Let's have a bitch session, shall we?

We shall!

And because when I feel my world is chaotic, my OCD kicks in, so let's number this list so we're all neat and orderly.

1. I hate being taken advantage of. For the past few weeks I feel like people expect me to say yes to something when really? I mean no. When I tell you no I don't want to, I mean no. No under every circumstance you can think of short of death and even then it might still be no.

2. If I ask you for information, please don't assume I'm taking over. I'm not, I'm just asking for some clarification because *shocker* I don't know everything. So now even more is heaped onto my plate because people feel threatened over something so fucking dumb.

3. I'm sick of hearing about people bitch about Obama and ObamaCare and elections. You know what? I'm 30 and I can't get a fucking mammogram despite having some issues because my insurance doesn't think I should get one until I'm 40. If I had ObamaCare, I could get that mammogram without fearing being in ridiculous debt. I try not to wish ill on others but for all of the people who are so against it, I hope you get cancer or some chronic illness that requires thousands of dollars in drugs every month so you can just get out bed and that you don't have insurance to cover it. Because then and only then do I think you'll really understand what it's like for us middle class people who can't get help with anything to save our lives. Meanwhile, I'm waiting for my Nazi insurance company to approve my migraine pills and I will tell you right now that if they deny me I am going to buy street drugs from the shady Mexicans down the road. I cannot live without my last resort narcotics because I will probably die. I'm not kidding- if I don't die from pain I will probably die from Matt suffocating my whining ass.

4. I'm sick of government cutting funds on education. Again. I don't know how they want us to do great things in the world if you can probably get a better education in god damn Cuba. Of every single budget item this country has, education is the one thing that should not only be getting an increase every year, but it should never be decreased. Same with the state level. Our school district alone is facing $700,000 in cuts and it's like jesus christ- what more can we cut back on? We have shit school lunch, the kids can't even go to art and music every day, after school activities in the elementary level at least are almost non existent and yet, we get more cuts next year. It's absolutely ridiculous how any legislator can justify these cuts.

5. I am tired of being the Poop Nazi in my house. I swear to you, I have to ask about the poop status on both kids at least five times when we come home. First they lie to you, then they start stinking so bad you know they lied, then they try and give up a few times, and then you have to get excited when they do poop because you at least know you don't have to give an enema. It's the small things I guess.

6. I am annoyed that Matt never washes the table after supper. He just wipes the crumbs onto the floor which he then never sweeps. Then I step in it every single morning when I'm serving breakfast and I get angry. I start my day off angry every morning because he can't just wash a fucking table.

7. I am annoyed at Batman for shedding. I brush his ass every day and still he leaves me giant tufts of fur on the carpet. This means I get to vacuum every day. Since having new carpet, post coming soon I promise, I realize how big our rooms really are and my arm is sore from vacuuming. The novelty of seeing vacuum marks in the carpet has worn off and I no longer wish to have this much carpet. Except when I'm barefoot, I appreciate it's softness and squishiness.

8. I wish they made kid muzzles. Today was a day I would have liked to have the option of kid muzzles because Jackson and Olivia were yelling at each other which then escalated to hitting and pushing and trashing their rooms over... wait for it.... who has nicer mini blinds. Seriously? They both have the same and now they are both off their windows because I can't handle another hour of that. Muzzles would have been awesome around 3:45 today.

9. Olivia needs to sleep. Her getting up every 30 minutes beginning at midnight is for the god damn birds. She's scared of everything, she's bored, she's not tired, she's lonely, she has questions, etc. If I can't get a solid night of sleep soon I shouldn't be trusted with any kind of utensil because I can't promise I won't try to harm myself. Between her getting up, the cats knocking things over and breaking things, and Matt snoring I feel like this is like Survivor: Parenthood Edition. I can't do it man. I can't do it.

10. I was having a conversation with a bunch of moms yesterday about play dates, parties, and other kids stuff and I am appalled at how nonchalant people are about letting their kids go places unsupervised. I know I mentioned I will automatically label you as a lazy and terrible parent if you just drop your kid off at a birthday party, but I will do that as well if you just let your kid get into a car with a stranger. The thought of letting my kid walk home from school alone terrifies me- I live in a city where we have a lot of registered sex offenders and any one of them could snatch her up and I would never know. And you don't know what kind of parent other people are- I would never just leave my kid at someone's house unless I really knew those parents well and have hung out with them and really trusted them. Absolutely no way in hell would I just leave my kids unattended. Yet parents don't seem to care and just let their kids go willy nilly wherever. Terrifying.

OK. I have more, but I'm tired and I still have to make the cake for Jackson's home party tomorrow. On the kids' actual birthday I make a cake for after their special dinner and we do a little special family celebration. Jackson's special dinner request was hot dogs, bow tie noodles, spicy Doritos and root beer. Yeah, doesn't that sound divine? *gag* I just hope nobody gets the stomach bug I had last week because that would be maybe the worst puke to clean up ever.

Just kidding!

I realized I haven't given you a blog post in awhile, so let's do a quick and dirty recap of some stuff that I can think of right away.

So a few weeks ago I went to get just a few things that were on sale that I was out of. Matt eats pizza rolls for lunch at work when he's too lazy to make a real lunch and he had been on me about buying more since we were out. My haul included: 2 orange juices, 2 pounds of grapes, 1 pound of ground beef, 2 hams, 2 boxes of waffles, 2 Go Gurts, 2 Splitz yogurts, 5 cake mixes, 3 cinnamon rolls, 3 Grands biscuits, 1 tub of frosting, 10 boxes of pizza rolls, 2 heads of lettuce, 1 pound of onions, 1 package of chicken, and a bag of presliced apples.

 That's a picture of some of my haul. My total? $52.32!! I saved $43.22 in coupons and sales. WOO HOO. The guy behind me in line was like, "Shit- I wish my wife would do that." That was almost 3 weeks ago and I still have most of that stuff. I see though that my stockpile of canned goods and meat is going down so I'm hoping I can snag some more deals soon.

Then Jackson got this firefighter PlayMobil thing and I felt kind of bad ass for taking on the job of putting the little pieces together. I'm not good at putting anything together and god help me if I was a single person in charge of IKEA furniture, because it would be bad. But I got to step 2 here and was like, I don't get this.

 Of course, when Matt came home I was telling him I didn't have that white piece and so I think we're missing it from our box. He replies with, "Sara- that's a fucking faucet. You can put water in the gray piece so water comes out of the hose." I'm sorry, but the "faucet" is the same size as the gray thing- how was I supposed to know that?!

I cleaned a junk drawer that wouldn't shut. That drawer is my dirty little secret.

 I also realized I'm down to one sugar sucker. I'm sad about this and want more.

I have a lot on my plate this week- between my regular wifey and mommy duties I have Jackson's 4th birthday party on Friday, an Easter thing at the zoo and then Olivia's friends' birthday party on Saturday and then Easter.

Can I just say I don't care for Easter? Easter is stupid. Except the jelly beans and Reese's eggs. I like those.

Until Next Time

I'm slowing returning to the world of the living after being sick, but guess what is in it's early stages? A migraine. Thank YOU body of mine for being such a lemon. So while I have a TON to update you on, I'm going to medicate and go to bed but leave you with a book review.

Until Next Time by Amy Lignor

How does a girl choose between the one who steals her heart and the one who owns her soul? Matt and Emily were created for a specific job. Raised and trained as the ultimate angel/warrior team, they are sent down to save, defend, judge and forgive, depending on the 'life' they've been assigned. What they don't realize is that the power of human emotions, such as love, anger, passion and fear can take over even the best of souls, causing them to make mistakes and follow paths that lead to confusion and heartache. When the reason for their training is finally revealed, the angel/warrior team find themselves thrust into a world they know nothing about. Matt takes over the life of Daniel, a young man with a great deal of baggage. Emily becomes Liz, a girl living in a remote village who relies on nothing more than her own strength to survive. A violent storm erupts one night, and framed in the window of Liz's establishment is a frightening face. Let in by the soul of a Good Samaritan, the two visitors bring with them a past full of secrets that could literally change an angel's path and a warrior's plans. From murder to redemption, this angel/warrior team must find a way to keep the faith they have in each other in a world that's ripping them apart.

Has anybody else noticed I seem to have a special spot in my heart for supernatural like books? Because I do and I'm OK with that. I will tell you right off the bat I liked this book not because it's tremendously well written or because the story is that dynamic, but because it's like two stories in one. 

First off you have the Matt/Emily story line and then their story line as Daniel/Liz. You know what they are supposed to do when they leave their angel bodies and come down to their human shells, but the process of going back and forth means they lose their memory and so they have to figure it out. You learn fairly early on what their angel mission is as Daniel/Liz and so you are rooting for them though they mess up. They make human mistakes, sin and all these awful things but what makes that even better is how damn naive they are. Sure, they are angels so they don't know about how crappy us humans can be, so when they experience it first hand, reading how taken aback they are of what life as a human is like, is kind of interesting. 

I've read a few other books along the lines of angels and this comes from a different perspective, which is why I think I appreciated it  more than maybe I would have if I hadn't read any books dealing with angels and such. But I do think this book would be enjoyable and though it's just under 300 pages and a little less than 40 chapters, it is a really fast read. I zipped through this one in a matter of hours on my handy little Nook. 

Buy this book for Kindle, Nook, Smashwords or PDF. If you want to check out Amy's blog you can do that here too. I also invite you to look through some other cool titles at Tribute Books. Happy reading!