My sleeper is broken

That pic is me and my gal pal. Why? Because this is an MMS, and I can. It’s the bonus plan, baby.

H woke up at 3am with sinus crap going on. Lovely snorting deep back of his throat and sniffling. Dead sexy, baby. He got up and took some sinus meds and went right back to sleep, leaving me wide awake. I laid in bed for a while trying to go back to sleep. Gave up and grabbed my ppc and my smokes so I could sit on the deck and smoke, listen to the trains and crickets, and write. Of course I have my trusty little white tornado on my lap bcus heaven forbid I should venture out of a room without the little hairy shadow. Elli has some severe separation anxiety issues. Let’s just recap what me and my dumb brain have been discussing for the last hour and twenty minutes.

*gives you a hard hat with a search light and a packed lunch just in case we get lost*

To Do list. You know, bcus that is so condusive to sleep… Not.

Went to deaf dinner last night and reran a lot of what I said but changed it from english to asl word order. Because I haven’t yet mastered doing that on the fly. Deaf folks are so patient with learners. At least most of the ones I have met.

Worried about my friend who is facing imminent divorce.

Worried about whether my neighbors are gonna stay together and/or if she is gonna put his engagement ring back on anytime soon.

Agonized and shoulda coulda woulda’d my old job to death. Wow, that was SO productive.

Went back and forth over getting an interpreter or not if I get the two interviews I think I’m gonna get. Still not decided.

Wondered for a while about whether God will heal my hearing or when I might go completely deaf. Wondered what, if anything, I might miss. I got to hear my husband say our wedding vows and babies say ‘Mama’ and ‘I love you’, so I guess I’m good. Music is the only thing I’ll really miss, I think.

Went back over To Do list. Why? Futile.

Proofread this entry, but I’m sure it’s hosed up somewhere. Hey, you try blogging on a fiveish inch by twoish inch qwerty keyboard and fourish inch by threeish inch screen. It’s not easy.

Hey, was I just cheery-angsty in this entry, Rebecca?! LOL

That’s about it.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

My SECOND meme… not as momentous as the first, I suppose.

It seems no matter how much I get done, instead of feeling accomplished, I feel even more behind. My ppc has a task list feature complete with a reminder on the ‘today’ screen, so now I have digitized neuroticism.
I got all the boys’ clothes sorted and put away, but I haven’t even touched their winter clothes yet. I still have to sort through those and put into “still fits R”, “now fits D”, and “Goodwill” piles then get them put away in their dressers. While I’m at it, I’m going to force myself to give up a large chunk of my winter wardrobe. I have items that have been through at least three winters and never actually been worn.
Are you sitting down? Good. I finally started the curtains for the office tonight! Yay!
I filled out all the boys’ school forms and took them to open house at school to meet their teachers today. A Dinosaur-sized meltdown was narrowly avoided on the way into school. He was still being all weird after we got inside, so the teachers got a glimpse of the Crap Sandwiches he can serve up. I met both boys’ teachers. They both have regular teachers, then they both have Spec Ed teachers, Speech Therapists and Paras built into their IEPs. Rocky’s teacher seems to be just right for him, she’s pleasant but has good puttin-da-smackdown potential. I already knew his Spec Ed teacher, (and I like her) and his Para, so that was no surprise. Dino’s teacher is all brand-new and fresh-faced, and has absolutely no clue what’s about to hit him. His Spec Ed teacher seems fine and his Para too. School starts Tuesday. I’m waiting with bated breath right along with every other mom that has been at home all day long with the bored young’uns for the past 12-ish weeks. Tuesday morning at about 8:10am will find me on the way home from dropping the kids off for the first day of school and wishing that it was societally correct to chug a morning celebratory beer. The first day is a half day, wassup with that?! So kids start back Tuesday, ASL 3 starts in a week for yours truly, and Hunky’s back in school August 29. Wooooot.

Man, the summer has flown by. What with all the job applications and the couple freelancing jobs I picked up and tackling a multitude of mundane house projects, summer snuck right by me. I finished up the big freelance project I took on, but they’re dragging their heels on paying me, which really worries me. I was told at first that they would pay me a couple days after delivery of the project to the event, then when over a week went by, I im’d the main contact I had to tell him I hadn’t received a check yet, and he apologized profusely and said it would be more like three weeks since they were going to cut the check at their next meeting. They owe me over $1100, which I’ve already promised to the mortgage company. Then we got two certified letters from the IRS today reminding us that because of an oversight back in 2004, we owe an additional $870. Ain’t bein’ a grownup grand?!

I probably built up the naughty sex toy party and sign language combination a little too much, but that’s ok, right? Friday night I had a party, and a good time was had by all. I made walking tacos and many drank a little more than is socially correct. 🙂 Anywho, a very good friend I made back in January-ish when I started hangin’ out in the Deaf community was there. Her husband had taught me a bunch of the more raunchy signs, and this knowledge came in very handy when there were a few times during the evening that I did a little interpreting between her and the Passion Party Consultant. I had to laugh when at one point the consultant stopped and said, “Wait, what was that sign again?!” If you want, go check out her website and if you order anything, we’ll get it to you. 🙂

Finally, Rebecca tagged me so you can blame her for the next rambling paragraph.
Why do I blog?
I suppose you deserve a better reason than “why not?”.
I started blogging in 2003 over at LiveJournal when me and the mister were separated. I wrote mostly to bitch vent. I wrote sporadically and sported this whole bitter-angsty vibe (as opposed to the cheery-angsty vibe? Duh.). In April I moved over to blogger and took the clean-slate opportunity to lighten the frick up. Now I blog to entertain/inform my real-life friends of the plot line on the Dory Show, and maybe even garner some attention from new victimes people out there in InternetLand. I also blog just because I enjoy writing. As I said yesterday, I just love words, and I always have. I love the emotions I evoke for myself and others, and I enjoy making words play nicely together. In my kindergarten play, I got to be the narrator because I was the only kid in class that could already read. All through school when the teacher assigned reading/writing exercises, the other kids groaned, but I was in my element. In those moments, it didn’t matter that I felt completely awkward socially, didn’t know quite how to fit in, and my peers didn’t know quite how to take me. It was just me and words and my imagination, and we got along fine.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

My first Meme… how momentous.

The Hunk tagged me. I’ll get him for that later. He owes me anyway.

“Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.”

  1. I live in a world full of Charlie Brown Adults. I am hard of hearing. I have a degenerative nerve disease that causes my inner ear to not repair itself when it’s damaged. I have almost no midtones left but still have some hearing in the treble and bass range. I may be Deaf by the time I’m 50 or 60. I’m taking sign language classes and teaching my friends and family in the hopes that by the time I am Deaf, I will be completely fluent in ASL. I have about 40% hearing left, I’m guessing, so I’m not deaf, but I’m also not hearing, which can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. I often wish that some morning I’ll wake up either completely healed or completely deaf. I’ve had about enough of living in limbo.
  2. I must count things that are repetitive. I don’t have to do them a certain number of times, but I must count in my head, and sometimes under my breath. For example, when I’m standing in front of the paper towel dispenser in the rest room, I must count how many times I hit the handle.
  3. I have strong faith. I don’t care if I do get completely flamed for this, but that guy that came up with the whole “Religion is the opiate of the masses” thing can just bite me. I’m still on the face of this earth only because there is a God in heaven that watches over me, guides me, blesses me, corrects me, and tells me how He wants me to live. I do wrestle with some of the issues, but for the most part, I’m all, Yay God!
  4. I’m not the mom I thought I’d be. I pictured all these wonderful Kodak Moments and I want my money back. I do a pretty decent job as The Darling Wife as The Hunk can attest to. But I admit I’m way too selfish to be the mom I thought I’d be.
  5. I hate being wet; I’m like a cat. I’m all about the tanning and reading a good book, But I’ll pass on actually getting in a pool, unless my friends are making strong threats. Which they’ve been known to do, and also carry through on. I don’t mind showering, because I promise I do do that every day; but within three seconds of the water ceasing, the towel is all over my face, rubbing it dry fast enough to risk setting my head aflame.
  6. I have items on my To Do or Die List that are over a year old. Seriously. I also have unfinished craft projects over 10 years old. *sigh*
  7. I have a motorcycle I am completely terrified of. Kawasaki 440LTD. I hate the feeling of being so out of control and not knowing how what I might do is going to affect the motorcycle. I hate feeling so incompetent. Every moment I’m on the damn thing, I feel like it’s going to prove to everyone around me what an idiot I am. Which leads me to…
  8. I was in a motorcycle accident Thursday night. All the sordid details are here. I have road rash on the heel of my left hand, my left knee, and I’m probably going to lose my left toenail. I was a dumbass wearing flip flops on a motorcycle because I couldn’t be bothered to take two minutes and go into the house and get socks and shoes. But I was wearing my helmet.

Now I’m supposed to tag 8 people to torture do this same thing. I don’t have 8 that haven’t already done this, but I will tag The Seester, The Poodle Queen, Phil, Fiona, Jess, and Brown Eyed Girl.

Remember that sticker that I made for my mom’s trailer? My stepfather may have hooked me up with a place to SELL THEM. Rock ON! Further updates as events warrant.

That meeting I mentioned last post went Oh-so-very-well. I’ve put in several hours this week and am going to bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan. But Hunky is doing dishes.

Not my best work here tonight. But that happens. Moving on.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Party on, Wayne.

Heeeere’s your sign.

O… M… G…… I am beyond embarrassed. Here is your very favorite Graphic Designer- Typesetter- Proofreader- person and I’ve had this blog up for how long? I worked on the masthead for at least a couple hours trying to find just the right pics, just the right font, and then what? Yeah, about a month later, my SIL points out a glaring typo. “Blaming in on ADD since 2001.” Let’s say I meant that I was really into the hokey pokey and I was putting my blaming in. Yeah, that’ll be good. Maybe I’ll just fake it like the cat does when he falls off the back of the chair and then looks at me awkwardly as if to say, “Yeah, I totally meant to do that.” Thanks, Betty. I am a complete doofus.

So in other news… I went to the Iowa Workforce Development Monday. You see, the Evil Garden Gnome decided to fight my receiving unemployment benefits. So I went in Monday with two issues. One, I did my weekly call in and the i711 operator somehow messed up when she was working with the automated system. I brought in the relay call printed out so the IWD people could figure it out and set it straight. Two, I had to correct the phone number for them to call me for the hearing, so they will call me on the number that comes straight to me relay assisted instead of my old number. OK, so I go in and I tell the receptionist (you know, the one that guards the gates and decides who gets a quick pat answer, and who has a real problem and needs to talk to someone else so the lines doesn’t get held up for days) that I need some help, and that I’m hard of hearing, so I need to talk their biggest loudmouth. She chuckles and says she can help me. I tell her my deal, and she deems my problem big enough to talk to someone else. So I wait for Someone Else. I get Softspoken Woman. Fabulous. But, Ok, let’s do this. I give her the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of my deal. I explain that I’m hard of hearing but I read lips very well so if I can see her, I can hear her. She’s cool with that, so here we go. I show her the print out of the relay call, and explain what a relay call is. She turns back to her computer and dives into the depths that are the Underground Cave of Iowa Workforce Development. She fusses and fusses with her computer and keeps asking me questions facing away from me towards the computer screen, and I keep answering, “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you”, and she keeps apologizing and repeating herself. About a month later, she sorts through and takes care of that (I hope. You know that sinking feeling in your gut when you’ve just handed your brand new Ming vase to an 18 month old? Yeah? Yeah.) and tackles the next problem. I explain, again, that I am hard of hearing and that the phone number they have listed for me will need to be changed because that’s my old number, and here’s my new number that goes straight to a relay operator who contacts me and does the relay call. She looks at me like I’ve just asked her to put together an Ikea entertainment center with gum instead of screws and only German instructions. I explain again. The lightbulb fizzes a little bit. I explain again. The lightbulb slowly comes up to a full 100 watts. She explains sure, ok, she’ll take care of that, and it may help a lot if I will type up a statement for them to fax to Des Moines, and would I bring it back to her by Tuesday morning? Sure, no problemo. So Tuesday morning I go in with my statement and documents. Same gal, Softspoken Woman, (who, you might have noticed, is not exactly the brightest crayon in the box) takes my papers and looks them over for me. She says they look good and she’ll fax them over, and again makes sure that she has the correct number listed. Good. I’d like to pause the story and recap. We’ve discussed the fact that I am hard of hearing. A lot. Ok. Let’s hit the play button. She asks me in a ‘oh by the way’ sort of voice, “How many words a minute can you type?” I reply 60 words a minute and her eyes light up and she says she saw a job posting that I might be interested in. She goes back in to the depths of her computer and fusses and fusses with it. Finally, she says, “Here it is! This company is URRelay, and this position is a Relay Operator!” and she looks at me like I’ve just won the Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes. I *blink* *blink blink* and I think no, she’s going to get it in a second. Wait for it….
Still with the Aren’t-You-Excited-To-Meet-Mr. McMahon look.
Oh, man, I’m the one that has to burst her bubble.
I say, “I can’t hear the caller.”
Her turn to *blink* *blink blink* “Oh.”

I’ll just leave it at that.

Anyway, so the hearing was on Wednesday, and they will look at my statement and the Evil Garden Gnome’s statement and decide if I will receive unemployment benefits. If I do, great; If I don’t, eh, it was worth a shot.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Word. To your mother.

Irony and Sarcasm… two great tastes that taste great together.

*unpacking boxes*
*flops down on a stack of bedding*
*pops open a cold one*
It’s Miller Time.

So I’ve moved over here from LiveJournal. I’ll check back in over there periodically, but I live here now, at 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

I think the change of scenery will do me well. I’m going to find a lighter voice here. I had quite the teen-angst scene going on over there at LJ, all pseudo-deep and whatnot, and it got to the point where I could barely stand myself. Sorry ’bout that. Gonna try to ease on up on that crap.

For those of you just tuning in, I’m Dory, as dubbed by my hunka-husband when we went to see Finding Nemo in the theater. Dory, the little blue tang fish, came on the screen and The Hunk started laughing… nay, giggling, and said, “It’s you, honey, it’s you! You’re up there on the screen!” And Dory stuck. Within a week, my friends were calling me Dory. Ah, the joys of ADD. You probably couldn’t even begin to believe what The Hunk puts up with, God love him. ADD with a Generous Dollop o’ Crazy, every… single… day.

In other news… I’m fired. I was actually fired not last Friday, but the Friday before. The Boss says that he has never felt so bad about having to let someone go, (of course at the time, my brain was screaming “THEN DON’T, YOU EVIL GARDEN GNOME!”) and that he wanted to give me up to four weeks to find another job AND my parting gift was… a letter of recommendation! Thanks for playing our game! *audience OOOs* So… consequently I feel like Dead Woman Walking. I don’t think any of my co-workers knows, but you know how Rumors and Office politics get along. Like a teeny-bopper and her shiny sequined, hot pink fruffy frou frou trimmed, lime green purse. Except in this case, Rumors and Office Politics are headed off to the 2 day sale at Younkers, MasterCard firmly in hand, their need-to-be-punched pointy little noses high in the air and their beady little eyes darting around trying to figure out how to look down at me whilst aforementioned noses are so high in the air, they are in danger of bleeding. Rumors and Office Politics are absolutely ecstatic that their nefarious plan to remove me from their presence was successful. They’re already deciding who gets custody of the stapler and the pencil sharpener (Rumors gets the stapler and Office Politics gets the pencil sharpener, except Wednesdays and every other weekend, and holidays; in which case they switch). I never blogged about work before because I heard a bunch of horror stories about getting fired because of your blog. Now I’m blogging about getting fired. Huh. Imagine that. Tonight I’ve been actively avoiding working on my resume. Let’s check in and see how I’ve done.

Things I’ve Done Instead Of Working On My Resume:

  1. Erased all the old text messages off my phone
  2. Checked email
  3. Watched people coming and going on my IM list
  4. Looked up the correct spelling for “wallaby”
  5. Watched a couple episodes of Sex in the City
  6. Read each and all the blogs I follow
  7. Started a new blog while watching Finding Nemo for inspiration (bonus points for multi-tasking!)
  8. Tried to figure out if there was a way to rob the Aquarium Screensaver from the Finding Nemo DVD
  9. After much diligent research and some cussing, decided there wasn’t – Yet
  10. Made tacos for dinner
  11. Talked to The Elli Dog regarding my displeasure with her violating the cat (more about the little white tornado that is my undying pride and joy later. And on a side note, damn, I hope she comes out of heat soon.)
  12. Reminisced on the final I took today and again tried to remember more signs that are made with the B handshape (he asked for 7; for the life of me I could only think of 5, and that was reaching. On my tippy-toes with my hamstrings screaming for mercy.)
  13. Overseen the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (the boys apparently can’t get a job done without me standing on the deck micro-managing.)
  14. Smoking while overseeing the Leaf Cleanup Detail in the backyard (Yes, now I’m reaching to make my list longer.)

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.