- I spend way too high a percentage of my money on fast/convenience foods.
- We eat way too much quick, easy, highly processed/preserved meals.
- I want to incorporate more fresh/locally grown foods into our diets.
- I'm sick of trying to decide at the last minute what the heck I'm going to fix for dinner.
- I'm trying to save money at the grocery store. If I know exactly what I need for the month, I (hopefully) will be less likely to have to throw away food that expires before it gets eaten. Also, I'm hoping I'll be less likely to make "impulse" food buys at the store - thus, saving money.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I was bombed yesterday. Not bombed as in "drunk", not bombed as in "actually had an explosive device dropped on me".... Bombed, as in "Mom we're talking about sex in health class for the rest of the year and so each night for my homework I have to ask you questions."
Oh, dear Lord, help me.
Now, I've talked in quite graphic detail with my son about sex. I've talked about how it's best to wait until you are old enough to handle it mentally, emotionally and physically. How God wants us to wait until we've found the person we're going to spend the rest of our lives with and actually are married to before we take that particular step. How oral sex is definitely still sex and it shouldn't be done, either. How diseases can be spread no matter which orifice is used, so it's much better to wait until you've both decided you love each other, are getting married, and have had all kinds of tests to make sure neither one of you is going to give each other a not-so-pleasant surprise. I even described in graphic detail the things that can happen to one's body parts as a result of some of those nasty diseases.
But I'm not sure how I feel about my baby boy asking me personal questions about sex. I mean, it's one thing for me to tell my son about sex, oral sex and such. It's quite another for him to ask me personal questions. And then, for him to say, "Yeah, the questions at first aren't so bad. But then I looked ahead in the book and.... oh, man! You aren't going to like the questions we have to ask!"
Lord, help me get through these next few months. Help us all. And help it do some good and keep our babies from trying to make babies of their own.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
As soon as we got there, she started crying. So did I. She hid under my chair while we waited in the lobby for the "intake process" to begin. She pressed herself as far up against the back of my legs as she could and shivered and shook the whole 15 minutes we had to wait.
And I bawled all the harder when they took her. She cried and scrambled to get back to me. The absolute betrayal she felt was clear. I know I had no choice, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit. I'll miss you, Li'l Bit. I hope they find you a forever home, but I know the odds are against it.
I wish I were young enough to delude myself into believing they'll find her a home right away. That they'll be able to find someone to love her and care for her, train her out of destroying stuff. But I know the pound only holds stray dogs for four days before they deem them "adoptable" or euthanize them. If a dog does, miraculously, get deemed "adoptable", they only hold them for about a week in the pound before they destroy them. And in that week, sweet, loving dogs are held in cold, concrete cages. No freedom to run and play. No one to rub them behind their ears or find that special "tickle spot" that makes them kick their legs and get a look of absolute bliss on their faces. They're kept locked in cages, where I'm sure they wonder what they did wrong, why their people don't love them anymore, why, why, why.
I know I had no choice. These stray dogs are killing me - financially, emotionally, and just the hassle. It's part of what's keeping me up all night. I exhausted every other possibility. Again, it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Fixing doohicky number 1
Fixing doohicky number 2
He was much more enthusiastic about getting up there and looking around the neighborhood than he was about getting down. When it came time for him to swing his legs around and feel for the ladder, he announced emphatically, "I'm just going to stay up here. I don't want to get down. I don't want to get down! I can't get down! You can't make me!" By this point he was screaming, while I was snickering (and coughing) into my sleeve. Finally, I was able to get him down with minimal screaming and no destruction of gutters, roof, ladder or boy. I then rewarded him with a cup of hot chocolate.
Other than that, we did nothing all weekend. Food consisted of soup and sandwiches and whatever else Jamie could fix himself. I'm marginally better today (well, better enough to come to work). I'm hoping Mucinex will loosen enough of this crud to get it all out. I can't afford to go to the doctor, so I'll be fighting this with OTC medicines and spicy food to clear out the sinuses.
Jamie's spring break is next week, so I'm hoping to be feeling well enough that we actually get to do something on his spring break, instead of me spending my vacation days at home in bed, being miserable.
Friday, March 05, 2010
The sheep I count defected.
I am so grouchy!
Work is still stressful,
reports unending burdens.
I need a day off.
babysitting night at church.
Infinite worlds will
blossom in my mind tonight.
Love that "new book" smell.
Sadness comes this way.
Tomorrow one puppy leaves
to go to the pound.
No rescue groups came
to help me find her a home.
I cannot keep her.
Two puppies remain
but are not as aggressive.
I can take my time.
My boy grows by leaps
and bounds; he climbed on the roof
to fix broken vents.
Climbing up was fun!
He could see for miles, but the
climb down was scary.
UT was so great!
Making Rube Goldberg Machine
highlight of the day.
He grows so fast, my
heart breaks watching my boy turn
into a young man.
The sands of time move
swiftly. They take childhood and
leave behind a man.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Oh, yeah, and if you have something you want to rant about - please, feel free to leave it in the comments section. I want to know I'm not the only ranting and raving person in the blogosphere.