display | more...
Screaming defiant for gnosis
Sick of wading through the interpretations
Facing piles of books that grow with
Each stumbling session of inebriation
Working myth from myth
Forming some knowledgable constellation
That will demonstrate the shift
From truth to the lie we're facin'.

And I want incessantly to at least be re-assured that I am not, that I can not be the only person that feels this way.

I'll rest when I'm impressed
So I stay stressed
I'll close my eyes for death
And (though I prey for something different) I'll stop being tense for nothing less.
Why?
Exactly.
But beyond the point, probably because I can't put the pieces together, and it seems the wise men keep saying that the only way to see the picture is to ignore that it is there.

I guess at the end of the day
All I'm trying to say
Is that some of us stay awake
With a shaking, frightened grip on the hope that somewhere out there is something that will let us know that it's all worth it. Something that will make it obvious that we can close our eyes and relax and breathe in the beautiful summer air and sit down under the sunset and know without even the slightest of doubts that we're okay.

Honestly, after reading the first two writeups I almost didn't post my trivial family update (it just seems wrong to put my little 'happy family' piece after two such angst-and depression-filled writeups), but I've been putting it off for so long... so here goes:

It's been awhile since I had the time and energy to update you all on what's been going on with me and my family. When I've posted lately, it's been impersonal organizatory stuff like There goes the neighborhood! 2: Unfinished Business and E2 Secret Santa 2006. I figure a short update is in order.

We moved to West Lafayette, Indiana in June 2005. I'm working nights (7p-7a) as a RN in the Emergency Room. Alex works nights from home, which eliminates the need for a babysitter. Rowan is now in 7th grade and would be doing well if she would 1) do her homework and 2) turn it in when finished... *sigh*... on the other hand, unbelievably enough, she's almost 13, still likes to hang out with me and Alex and thinks we're cool (!), so I guess maybe I did something right. Either that, or she's severely mentally disturbed, which, given the fact that she's my kid, is also possible. Ian is 9 and in 3rd grade, doing well academically but also not getting his work done (see a pattern?)... *sigh*

Some of you, especially those who were at our house, are ninjagirls, or are in E2Parents, already know the big news... We're pregnant! Big surprise, big shock. I'm at 19 weeks now, almost halfway through. We actually found out August 31st, IMMEDIATELY before our nodermeet. The baby is due in April, and we've decided we don't want to find out what sex it is. There are too few surprises left in the world in any case. Little Gwenatrix is eagerly awaited by its siblings, who are thrilled that I have a bump they can see now ;P I'm a little less thrilled.

We're severely understaffed in the ER, which means we're being tapped for more hours than usual, so I haven't been noding as much as I'd like to. I promise to do better, and hang my head in shame. If those of us who've been here for awhile aren't noding, who's to blame new noders for being confused as to what is expected of current writeups? I'm thrilled to see that some of my favorite noders have gotten back into the swing of noding, and that many of my longtime favorites are still hanging in there :). Of course, I also have that lovely carrot of a homenode pic waiting for me at level 6 - only 45 more writeups to go ...

Maybe I'll get there by April...

And after two angst-ridden write-ups and a distinctly NOT trivial announcement of a healthy fetus, I post a truly trivial bit of sweetness and light simply for the purpose of sharing a good laugh.

No kidding, this really happens to some people.

Yesterday was a particularly productive day for me, culinarily speaking. I baked a really good OneTwoThreeFourCake and made a whole wheat pasta casserole with oodles of dark green vegetables and fat free dairy products. How was it that I was able to do all that without barking out "Hup!" every twenty minutes? I began to wonder. Huh. The Marido must have taken the dog with him to go visit La Familia Loaiza Alfaro. He hadn't said anything, but this has become SOP for my husband.

Pippin hasn't quite grasped his place in the home organization. In his little doggie-mind, he is the Alpha Male. Noises mean intruders, and intruders mean a fight. Pippin can also be counted on to throw a fit when you leave him in a car or outside a store for... actually, duration is not important for Pippin. As soon as he sees your back, the fit starts, complete with shaking and high-pitched yelping. Then people glare at us like we've just choked our precious little pup and gutted him and left him to die alone in a ditch. Hence, three hours sans Pippin can be very relaxing. Also very productive, as in addition to the cake and the casserole I also edited two marketing letters and ran the dishwasher.

So my husband calls from the Hess station down the road. He asks, "Did you miss us?" "Us?" says me, "You, yes. Pippin, eh." "We are coming home after I get the paper. You know, there are some Costa Ricans here and they have been here three months and I didn't know about it and they are just married..."

I have trouble carrying out long conversations with people on cell phones, so I asked him to tell me about it when he got home. Fine. The premonition that my productive streak would come to a screeching halt as soon as my family got back home descended upon me and I had to make the best of my remaining minutes. We said I-love-you-bye-bye and I took the cake out of the bundt pan and d-d-d-dl-l-l-r-r-iiing there's the phone again, and again it's the husband. Ai. What?

"Mami, I need a little help of you."

"Yes Papi, what do you need," I said, preparing to do a directions search or product search or finding of Immigration Paperwork or whatever.

"The dog step on the lock and he lock me out of the car."

Silence.

Loud, long laughter.

"Mami, I am freezing my colita off here, can you get the key from the downstair? And the car is running."

"Here it is, Papito, I'm on my way."

And off I go, driving a distance I could easily have walked but for the fact that, like most Lapsed Catholics, I spend Sundays in pyjamas and slippers. It would take something quite significant to get me into anything more formal than sweatpants, and a doggie who has decided to wreak revenge by locking his human out of the car does not qualify.

Up to the Hess station I drive, and I look carefully at the door locks. They are in the up position. Looking stunned, my husband strolled around to my open car window and quietly uttered, "He unlock the door."

Open mouth silence.

Longer, louder laughter.

"He hear your car and he jump and he step on the button."

"See you at home."

On the short drive back, I thought about what would have happened had I not been home, had we not had a spare key, had it been pouring down rain, had the car been about to run out of gas and miles away from anywhere. That, you see, would not have been funny.

Not for about five years, at least.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.