It has become obvious to some that I have quite the imagination when it comes to my dreams. So let's discuss another recent dream. While this one was shorter, and the details are fuzzier, its weirdness has not eluded me. This dream occurred a few nights ago and while I planned to write about it and hadn't gotten to it due to seasonal gatherings, I still remember the details fairly well.
In this dream, I'm dating Alan Rickman. Many of you may know him from his recently well-portrayed and infamous role as Severus Snape in the Harry Potter movie series. However, if you've seen the latest of the movies, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2", then you know Snape is no longer infamous. For the sake of those who haven't seen this final film, I will say no more.
Anyway, I'm dating Alan Rickman, and we're serious about each other. We're in love. We start off at some type of meeting or banquet hall. In one room, a hypnotist/psychic is holding a show, or presentation- whatever. We're walking past the room and Alan makes eye contact with the guy and I realize they know each other. By the look on Alan's face, it's not a pleasant past. The psychic calls him into the room and is taunting him to come in, "Oh, come on, Alan. You can't still be scared." I tell Alan he doesn't have to do this, and we can go, but he has something to prove and we move over to the table this jerk is sitting at. As we sit down, he's holding my hand very tightly and I whisper in his ear, "I'm right here. Say the word, and we'll walk out of here." It's this part where he looks scared and I feel so badly for him that I know we're in love.
This hypnotist/psychic is messing with him. He's putting him into some kind of trance and trying to scare him. I'm trying to talk to him, but he doesn't hear me. I decide I have to do something and I get up and look for a way to help him.
I walk out of the banquet hall, cut across the foyer, and go into another room. As I walk into this room, my shirt snags on the door frame and rips. Ever so conveniently, it's ripped in a way that it keeps falling down in front. (Shut up) In the room I've walked into, there's a woman wearing a silk blouse sitting at a desk. Holding my shirt in place, I tell her to give me her shirt. She looks at me like I'm insane, and I quickly say, "The hypnotist is making me do this." The stupid, imaginary woman believes me, gives me her shirt, and puts her jacket on.
Here's where the details get fuzzy. When I go back into the hall, I'm able to get Alan away from the hypnotist guy, but the guy's livid that I have. So, Alan and I have to run. We make it outside and into the parking lot where a group of his friends is waiting for us. They hide us in a cargo van and the hypnotist comes running out, now with goonies. He starts to recede when one of goonies sees us and they begin smashing the windows of the van. With the help of Alan's friends, we get away and make it safely to our hotel where we check in as though none of this happened.
And that, my friends, is my dream about Alan Rickman. Now, I haven't watched anything with him in a few months so, I'm not sure where this dream came from. I've never had a "thing" for Snape, or the first character I knew him as- Metatron in "Dogma". However, now I have this lasting feeling as though Alan Rickman and I have once been in love. I would also like to point out, that he was born in 1946. This means that he is approximately 65 years old. Being as I am 28, that is a 37 year difference. But, love knows no age.
Also, while reviewing his work on the IMDb, Internet Movie Database, I learned he was in a film that involved the role of a high functioning autistic woman. I will see this movie.
Well then... I think I'll pop in a Harry Potter flick.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Whoa
Following the steps of my follower, I took a depression quiz. I used to take medication for depression. I started on a low dose of Prozac for about a year before it had to be doubled, then tripled. Then I moved to Lexapro; after 6 months, they added Welbutrin. THEN, they added Clonazepam, and anti-anxiety drug.
Then one day, I came to the realization that all these medications aren't working because I'm not medically depressed, I'm just unhappy with my life. Yes, I un-diagnosed myself and stopped my medication with the help of my psychiatrist. I've not been on meds for over a year.
I took this little quiz today, which told me I have issues, but it all seems normal to me for someone under a lot of stress. Shouldn't I feel stressed and slightly depressed watching my autistic son struggle to make friends, and while I'm trying to graduate with honors, and my husband and I fight almost daily? No medication will change those things. It's up to me to manage these stressors more productively.
So here's my results...
Well then... on with the coping.
Then one day, I came to the realization that all these medications aren't working because I'm not medically depressed, I'm just unhappy with my life. Yes, I un-diagnosed myself and stopped my medication with the help of my psychiatrist. I've not been on meds for over a year.
I took this little quiz today, which told me I have issues, but it all seems normal to me for someone under a lot of stress. Shouldn't I feel stressed and slightly depressed watching my autistic son struggle to make friends, and while I'm trying to graduate with honors, and my husband and I fight almost daily? No medication will change those things. It's up to me to manage these stressors more productively.
So here's my results...
| Disorder | Your Score |
|---|---|
| Major Depression: | Very High |
| Dysthymia: | Extremely High |
| Bipolar Disorder: | Very Slight |
| Cyclothymia: | Slight |
| Seasonal Affective Disorder: | Extremely High |
| Postpartum Depression: | N/A |
| Take the Depression Test | |
Well then... on with the coping.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Listen up, people
When Obama became President, he made promises in regards to secondary education and student loan repayments. Specifically, he said, "...in the United States of America, no one should go broke because they chose to go to college." In a petition on the White House website, through the "We the People" platform, a citizen presented their concern about forgiveness of student loans, the declining economy, and citizen's inability to keep up the job market due to lack being able to afford secondary education. Thus, leading to lower wages and increasing poverty rates. This petition received over 32,000 votes within 30 days. In the response to said petition, they pointed out the increased Pell Grant amount of $5,500.
Today, on the radio, I heard about a bill in the making regarding the Pell Grant. For those of you who don't know, the Pell Grant is a grant from the Federal government that does not get paid back. Whether or not a student qualifies to receive these funds, and the amount a student receives, is based on his/her income and poverty level the previous year- verified through yearly taxes.
The proposed bill suggests decreasing the monthly range of Pell Grant disbursement from 15 months to 12 months and changing the qualifying criteria so that approximately 100,000 students would no longer qualify. All of this is to aid in lowering our nation's deficit.
What kind of hypocrisy is this?
Now, I didn't vote for Obama- mostly because I had a baby that very day and didn't make it to the polls. But, I'm starting to see the problem people have with him. He wants to lessen the country's deficit by killing the future economy. Less funds paid out in Pell Grants means citizens will have more funds from student loans, more debt, and higher payments after graduation.
So, I used our government's new, handy petition generator and pointed all this out. So, I tell you, my people, go. Go forth and sign. Go forth and tell your loved ones to sign. Save our futures and our children's futures.
Here's the link:
Save the Pell Grants
or copy and paste:
https://wwws.whitehouse.gov/petitions#!/petition/leave-pell-grant-alone-and-fix-debt-another-way/kN96dnnJ
Well then... GO SIGN
Today, on the radio, I heard about a bill in the making regarding the Pell Grant. For those of you who don't know, the Pell Grant is a grant from the Federal government that does not get paid back. Whether or not a student qualifies to receive these funds, and the amount a student receives, is based on his/her income and poverty level the previous year- verified through yearly taxes.
The proposed bill suggests decreasing the monthly range of Pell Grant disbursement from 15 months to 12 months and changing the qualifying criteria so that approximately 100,000 students would no longer qualify. All of this is to aid in lowering our nation's deficit.
What kind of hypocrisy is this?
Now, I didn't vote for Obama- mostly because I had a baby that very day and didn't make it to the polls. But, I'm starting to see the problem people have with him. He wants to lessen the country's deficit by killing the future economy. Less funds paid out in Pell Grants means citizens will have more funds from student loans, more debt, and higher payments after graduation.
So, I used our government's new, handy petition generator and pointed all this out. So, I tell you, my people, go. Go forth and sign. Go forth and tell your loved ones to sign. Save our futures and our children's futures.
Here's the link:
Save the Pell Grants
or copy and paste:
https://wwws.whitehouse.gov/petitions#!/petition/leave-pell-grant-alone-and-fix-debt-another-way/kN96dnnJ
Well then... GO SIGN
Thursday, December 22, 2011
So, get THIS...
I'll have my Associate's in Interdisciplinary Studies, with an emphasis in Early Childhood Development, as of May 29, 2012. So, in light of my upcoming degree, I began researching for employment opportunities. After not finding much, I went to my school's website to look up my degree information where they include potential job titles. After about twenty solid minutes of searching, I realize my degree isn't listed anymore. However, I do see a newly listed program with all the same courses listed that I've taken (minus two)- Associate's in Applied Science in Early Childhood Development. THIS is the degree I want. I can't help but think this newly named degree would please the eye of a potential employer more than my current one.
So, I called to see what I need to do to have the "new" degree. An academic adviser tells me I would need the two other courses listed in the new plan. I can't replace my needless two keyboarding classes because the two combined equal 5 credits. If I took the other classes for the new degree, I would exceed my program credit requirements of 90, which I'm not supposed to do. And I wouldn't if my last adviser hadn't scheduled me for Bachelor's level honors courses and screwed up my credit count.
Then I ask, "Couldn't I get my current degree, then take the missing two courses for the new one, carry over the same credits and have both degrees?"
His reply? "Well, yes, but the degrees are really the same thing, with different names."
"But if they're the same degree, why are there different courses? With my current degree, I'm missing these two courses to have the "new" degree," I point out.
"Well, yeah, I guess you are."
"Yeah, I guess I am."
So, I'm left with a degree that I'm not sure I want. I planned to start my Bachelor's in Child Psychology in June, accompanied by some Master's courses, which would leave me with my Bachelor's in Child Psychology by July 2015 and my Master's of Science in Psychology- Applied Behavior Analysis by March 2016.
However, I think I'm going to take those two courses first and get the degree I want.
What's two Associate's degrees going to hurt? Nothin'. Ain't gonna hurt nothin'.
Well then... I'm gonna seem purty smart with all them there degrees.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Time for Braggin', or Not
My current term is almost over. I have a 99.7% in my Caring for Children with Special Needs class, and a 98.9% in my Nutrition class. When you aim for 100%, these numbers disappoint you. My final term ends May 29. My degree will mail out in 6-8 weeks after that so that I receive it around my ceremony date.
I had to register for graduation today, which isn't until August, but if registration is open, that means it will fill up fast. Students have to have a 3.0 GPA to even attend the ceremony, so that probably eliminates quite a few students. Also, they're holding graduation at the Arie Crown Theater in Chicago. While that place is pretty fantastically huge, space is limited. In order to be guaranteed my two guest tickets, I need to register early. Now, I"m not sure why I'm so intent on getting two tickets. The event is on a Saturday, which Dave always works Saturdays...When I asked him if he would take the day off, or even ask, he rolled his eyes. He says he doubts he could get a Saturday off in the summer and that being able to pay our bills is more important. No one else seems to want to go. No one cares, I guess. It almost seems pointless to go. Someone has to watch the kids. If Dave doesn't go, that leaves my mom with the kids, since she doesn't want to go anyway. No one would be going except me, and that's stupid.
Growing up, I wasn't pushed to go to college, or even encouraged. And so far, I'm the only one of four kids to have gone to college. I thought my mom would be proud of me. I thought she'd want to see me walk across the stage and get my degree, with honors. When I told her when the ceremony is, she offered to watch the kids.
No, I'm not getting my degree for anyone else, other than myself. However, I do wish the people most important to me would recognize the hard work I've put into getting into school, maintaining such a high GPA, and finally graduating- with honors.
*Sigh*
Well then... maybe I shouldn't go.
I had to register for graduation today, which isn't until August, but if registration is open, that means it will fill up fast. Students have to have a 3.0 GPA to even attend the ceremony, so that probably eliminates quite a few students. Also, they're holding graduation at the Arie Crown Theater in Chicago. While that place is pretty fantastically huge, space is limited. In order to be guaranteed my two guest tickets, I need to register early. Now, I"m not sure why I'm so intent on getting two tickets. The event is on a Saturday, which Dave always works Saturdays...When I asked him if he would take the day off, or even ask, he rolled his eyes. He says he doubts he could get a Saturday off in the summer and that being able to pay our bills is more important. No one else seems to want to go. No one cares, I guess. It almost seems pointless to go. Someone has to watch the kids. If Dave doesn't go, that leaves my mom with the kids, since she doesn't want to go anyway. No one would be going except me, and that's stupid.
Growing up, I wasn't pushed to go to college, or even encouraged. And so far, I'm the only one of four kids to have gone to college. I thought my mom would be proud of me. I thought she'd want to see me walk across the stage and get my degree, with honors. When I told her when the ceremony is, she offered to watch the kids.
No, I'm not getting my degree for anyone else, other than myself. However, I do wish the people most important to me would recognize the hard work I've put into getting into school, maintaining such a high GPA, and finally graduating- with honors.
*Sigh*
Well then... maybe I shouldn't go.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Whose Bright Idea was Digital Imaging?
Here I am trying to create a calendar online, through Walgreens.com. First, the "fast" uploader isn't working at all. Thirteen images are listed and awaiting upload. Nothing happens. So I close it, and restart it about five times. Same thing, every time. I back out of the calendar maker and go to their photo center area and try to create the album there. Success! ...Mostly. It get to image 9 of 13 before it's stopping and doing nothing. What percent is that? That's right, it's frozen at 69% completion. I end up having to load the remaining four images one by one. Good job, Walgreens. Stellar server operations.
Then, all I need to do now is scan the kids' pictures with Santa from last weekend. Place picture one in scanner, set scan mode on printer, hit start... ... ... nothing. The little screen on the printer says it's scanning, it's communicated to the computer and the computer has a small window saying the image is scanning, but it LIES. It lies, I tell you.
So, I cancel the scan, which doesn't really work and I have to go through the task manager to end the process. Guess what!? Not responding. Who'da thunk it?
This time, I initiate the scan through the software on the laptop. I use the preview scan option first, which works. I can see the image. Then I go to actually scan, and three minutes later, it completes my request.
Second picture. Repeat all previous scanning steps taken. None work. Not even the preview scan. My eyes cannot roll hard enough, or far enough, into the back of my head.
I get the benefits of electronically managing and accessing my pictures, but seriously!!?? I'm so tired of technology and it's blatant laziness and lack of respect towards me.
Well then... time to destroy a scanner. >:|
Then, all I need to do now is scan the kids' pictures with Santa from last weekend. Place picture one in scanner, set scan mode on printer, hit start... ... ... nothing. The little screen on the printer says it's scanning, it's communicated to the computer and the computer has a small window saying the image is scanning, but it LIES. It lies, I tell you.
So, I cancel the scan, which doesn't really work and I have to go through the task manager to end the process. Guess what!? Not responding. Who'da thunk it?
This time, I initiate the scan through the software on the laptop. I use the preview scan option first, which works. I can see the image. Then I go to actually scan, and three minutes later, it completes my request.
Second picture. Repeat all previous scanning steps taken. None work. Not even the preview scan. My eyes cannot roll hard enough, or far enough, into the back of my head.
I get the benefits of electronically managing and accessing my pictures, but seriously!!?? I'm so tired of technology and it's blatant laziness and lack of respect towards me.
Well then... time to destroy a scanner. >:|
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Dream-ception
Last night I had a dream within a dream- twice. And even a dream within a movie, within a dream. I'm such a good actress, I didn't know I was in a movie until they yelled, "Cut!" In the dream, I was reflecting on the dream I had just had that night to Dr. Alex Karev, of Grey's Anatomy. I was laying/sitting across his lap with my head on his chest. I didn't even realize I thought anything of Justin Chambers, who plays Karev- and I just had to look up his name. Anyway, the dream inside the dream was me going downstairs into my basement to do laundry. I noticed it had been cleaned, like really cleaned. Right now, it's a disaster. There's rolled up carpet I was going to lay- until it flooded and ruined the carpet pieces. Same flood ruined some boxes and clothes that deteriorated onto the floor. I barely have time to get down there to do laundry, let alone clean out the ruined items. (I'm home with the kids by myself and I can't leave them unattended upstairs.) Anyway, the basement was clean and organized- it was downright beautiful. Knowing I hadn't done it, and Dave wouldn't ever do it, I assumed the church's trustee came in and did it for some reason or another. When I came back upstairs, Zoey had dumped a basket of clean clothes, which made me mad and I was yelling at her. None of this is any weirder than any other dream I've ever had.
So, after some time of chatting with Alex/Justin, who it took me awhile to recognize because he was clean shaven- not a trait of Karev. It's time to go to our room, and go to bed. We lay down and within minutes someone is busting into the room. We can hear other rooms in the house being busted into (we're in some kind of dorm-like house, or quite possibly an institution). Alex fights the guy off, but ends up with a sword in his face. The sword is protruding at a downward angle in the middle of, and slightly above, his eyes. I have to ignore that for a moment because I realize the intruder attacked the pregnant woman lying on the floor beside my bed. I immediately drop to the floor and say, "We have to deliver the baby!" I prepare to deliver the baby, and see it has already come out and is wrapped in a mucus of some kind. I tear away the layer and as I do, the baby grows larger and larger. It's as if the mucus was containing it and preventing its rapid growth. Within seconds, the "baby" is five feet tall, close to 300 pounds, and has no hair or eyes. I scream to Alex that we have to kill it. I tell him to pull the sword out of his head, "The angle it's at it, it's not touching your brain, you should be able to pull it out without bleeding out or damaging your brain." (Now I'm a doctor o.O) He pulls it out with ease (twss), jumps up behind the "baby" and slits it throat. That only slows him down a little and he knocks Alex/Justin backward. I grab the sword and begin to chase him out of the room. As soon as he's on the other side of the door, I hear, "Cut! Good job, everyone!"
Bet you didn't see any of that comin', did ya?
I wake up after that to get Donovan off to school. Once he's left, I laid back down until Zoey got up- only about 30 minutes. When I fell asleep this time, I was in a room with three other people, one guy, two girls. We're not allowed to leave this room, food is brought to us, and the place is ran by nefarious people who feed us crap food and call us names. This dream is short, and soon someone has taken over the place and bringing us better food. I keep thinking, I need to tell Dave about this. I called for him, yelled even. Then I wake up to Dave coming into the bedroom asking me what I want. I realize I was dreaming and say, "Sorry, I was yelling your name in my dream. I didn't mean to call you in here."
Then I wake up and Dave isn't standing there at all. I managed to experience dream-ception TWICE in a few hours.
Well then... I'd like to see you do that.
So, after some time of chatting with Alex/Justin, who it took me awhile to recognize because he was clean shaven- not a trait of Karev. It's time to go to our room, and go to bed. We lay down and within minutes someone is busting into the room. We can hear other rooms in the house being busted into (we're in some kind of dorm-like house, or quite possibly an institution). Alex fights the guy off, but ends up with a sword in his face. The sword is protruding at a downward angle in the middle of, and slightly above, his eyes. I have to ignore that for a moment because I realize the intruder attacked the pregnant woman lying on the floor beside my bed. I immediately drop to the floor and say, "We have to deliver the baby!" I prepare to deliver the baby, and see it has already come out and is wrapped in a mucus of some kind. I tear away the layer and as I do, the baby grows larger and larger. It's as if the mucus was containing it and preventing its rapid growth. Within seconds, the "baby" is five feet tall, close to 300 pounds, and has no hair or eyes. I scream to Alex that we have to kill it. I tell him to pull the sword out of his head, "The angle it's at it, it's not touching your brain, you should be able to pull it out without bleeding out or damaging your brain." (Now I'm a doctor o.O) He pulls it out with ease (twss), jumps up behind the "baby" and slits it throat. That only slows him down a little and he knocks Alex/Justin backward. I grab the sword and begin to chase him out of the room. As soon as he's on the other side of the door, I hear, "Cut! Good job, everyone!"
Bet you didn't see any of that comin', did ya?
I wake up after that to get Donovan off to school. Once he's left, I laid back down until Zoey got up- only about 30 minutes. When I fell asleep this time, I was in a room with three other people, one guy, two girls. We're not allowed to leave this room, food is brought to us, and the place is ran by nefarious people who feed us crap food and call us names. This dream is short, and soon someone has taken over the place and bringing us better food. I keep thinking, I need to tell Dave about this. I called for him, yelled even. Then I wake up to Dave coming into the bedroom asking me what I want. I realize I was dreaming and say, "Sorry, I was yelling your name in my dream. I didn't mean to call you in here."
Then I wake up and Dave isn't standing there at all. I managed to experience dream-ception TWICE in a few hours.
Well then... I'd like to see you do that.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Nightmares SUCK
Dave, the kids, and I went to a small dealership to look at cars. While we were talking to the sales manager, his wife came in with their two small children asked Donovan and Zoey if they wanted to come play while we talked. So they went. (I still don't know why I let my kids go off with a complete stranger) A few minutes later, Van came running in crying. The wife followed saying he fell and should be fine. We left shortly after.
The next day, we noticed a baseball size bruise on the top of his head and another golf ball one on the right side; it was obvious his skull was fractured in those places. We all ran to the hospital- literally ran, but in more of a slow motion. We get there, ER registration is computer based and done with a handheld device that tries to make it more fun for patients by incorporating mini games. While I'm getting frustrated by being interrupted by pointless games, I noticed Van's face had become swollen. I take the device to the nurse's station and tell them I came here to get help, not play games and explain my son's condition and they immediately book an OR and take him. Hours later, someone comes out and tells me he'll be okay and that his injuries are consistent with abuse.
I piece together the wife having my son and his crying afterward and tell them to call the police.
The rest is blurry and I woke up soon after. I hate nightmares. I hate them when I see my son's fractured skull and his face swell until he's nearly unrecognizable. When I awoke, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and all I wanted was Donovan and to make sure he was okay.
When I finally fell back to sleep, my dream was revenge on the sales manager and his wife. I guess I just couldn't let it go. For fear of my insanity being revealed, I'll sum this one up with, "they died." They were both murdered, by David and myself. No one hurts my babies.
This nightmare, and its murderous spawn, has been stuck in my head for about 6 hours now. So if anyone does dream analysis, fill me in. As time progresses, I think, Why did I let that woman take my kids? And, Why didn't she hurt Zoey? Or did she? Why didn't I check Zoey all over after finding Van's injuries?
I REALLY hate nightmares, especially when they involve my kids.
Well then... I guess sleep won't come easy for a few days.
The next day, we noticed a baseball size bruise on the top of his head and another golf ball one on the right side; it was obvious his skull was fractured in those places. We all ran to the hospital- literally ran, but in more of a slow motion. We get there, ER registration is computer based and done with a handheld device that tries to make it more fun for patients by incorporating mini games. While I'm getting frustrated by being interrupted by pointless games, I noticed Van's face had become swollen. I take the device to the nurse's station and tell them I came here to get help, not play games and explain my son's condition and they immediately book an OR and take him. Hours later, someone comes out and tells me he'll be okay and that his injuries are consistent with abuse.
I piece together the wife having my son and his crying afterward and tell them to call the police.
The rest is blurry and I woke up soon after. I hate nightmares. I hate them when I see my son's fractured skull and his face swell until he's nearly unrecognizable. When I awoke, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and all I wanted was Donovan and to make sure he was okay.
When I finally fell back to sleep, my dream was revenge on the sales manager and his wife. I guess I just couldn't let it go. For fear of my insanity being revealed, I'll sum this one up with, "they died." They were both murdered, by David and myself. No one hurts my babies.
This nightmare, and its murderous spawn, has been stuck in my head for about 6 hours now. So if anyone does dream analysis, fill me in. As time progresses, I think, Why did I let that woman take my kids? And, Why didn't she hurt Zoey? Or did she? Why didn't I check Zoey all over after finding Van's injuries?
I REALLY hate nightmares, especially when they involve my kids.
Well then... I guess sleep won't come easy for a few days.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Sleep's an Issue Here
I understand that as a mother of two young children, I'm not to expect sufficient sleep. In recent months, both my kids have been crawling in to my bed in the middle of the night, kicking David out (That part's ok, haha). Recently, they've been staying in their own beds. If they do come in, it's within an hour of when we have to get up anyway. Which is almost more annoying- waking up 30-40 minutes before my alarm goes off.
So the night before last, when David and I crawled into bed, he noticed a car parked in the parking lot about 20 yards from our house. (Our house is at the back of a church's parking lot. If you're in the lot, you're basically in our yard.) Said car is just outside our bedroom window. We can see people moving around in it, at least 3. Headlights are off, they are in park. Interior lights come one, then go off.
I already don't like Hammond and having a strange car parked outside my bedroom window doesn't sit well with me. I waited 10 minutes to see if they were moving along and when they didn't I called the police. About 10-15 minutes later, one unmarked police car, and one marked squad, pull up and block in the car.
Over the next 30 minutes, four cops pull four people from the car. The first goes straight into the back of the unmarked car, cuffed. The second is pushed against the hood of the unmarked car and patted down- he's left standing, more fidgeting, leaned against the hood for the remainder of this story. They remove the other two, which I swear I saw them walk off along the other side of the church building. o.O They search the car and they obviously found something because it sat on the unmarked car's hood.
Then a van pulls up along side the unmarked car. I'm not sure if these are civilians, or what. The two boys in cuffs are moved into the van. The first boy goes in, then the second- but the cop proceeded to punch the second guy 2-3 times inside the van.
Van goes away, someone drives the car away and police disperse. I might have fallen to sleep once the police arrived if there weren't flashing lights and a flood light filling my bedroom. But seriously, who parks their car, suspiciously, in the back of a dark church parking lot so close to a person's house?
Last night, after making sure there weren't any cars in my yard, I went to sleep FAST. However, I was woken up about four times over the next two hours. Bubbles is in heat. My male cat, Howler, is not fixed. As far as I'm aware, he didn't get to her, but he chased her through the house, downstairs, and had her trapped on the back porch where they meowing insanely loud. I kept having to get up and break it up. I tried to put Howler outside, but he wasn't going for it. I eventually had to trap him on the porch and shut the door. I didn't want to this because that's where the litter box and food is, and the water is in the house, in the kitchen. By locking him out, he can't get water and she can't get food or to the litter box. But screw you, cats, I need sleep. Obviously, I can't do this forever, so anyone want a cat? Or kittens? *sigh* I'll just cut his balls off, that's clearly the smart thing to do.
Well then... I guess I'll just sleep when I'm dead.
So the night before last, when David and I crawled into bed, he noticed a car parked in the parking lot about 20 yards from our house. (Our house is at the back of a church's parking lot. If you're in the lot, you're basically in our yard.) Said car is just outside our bedroom window. We can see people moving around in it, at least 3. Headlights are off, they are in park. Interior lights come one, then go off.
I already don't like Hammond and having a strange car parked outside my bedroom window doesn't sit well with me. I waited 10 minutes to see if they were moving along and when they didn't I called the police. About 10-15 minutes later, one unmarked police car, and one marked squad, pull up and block in the car.
Over the next 30 minutes, four cops pull four people from the car. The first goes straight into the back of the unmarked car, cuffed. The second is pushed against the hood of the unmarked car and patted down- he's left standing, more fidgeting, leaned against the hood for the remainder of this story. They remove the other two, which I swear I saw them walk off along the other side of the church building. o.O They search the car and they obviously found something because it sat on the unmarked car's hood.
Then a van pulls up along side the unmarked car. I'm not sure if these are civilians, or what. The two boys in cuffs are moved into the van. The first boy goes in, then the second- but the cop proceeded to punch the second guy 2-3 times inside the van.
Van goes away, someone drives the car away and police disperse. I might have fallen to sleep once the police arrived if there weren't flashing lights and a flood light filling my bedroom. But seriously, who parks their car, suspiciously, in the back of a dark church parking lot so close to a person's house?
Last night, after making sure there weren't any cars in my yard, I went to sleep FAST. However, I was woken up about four times over the next two hours. Bubbles is in heat. My male cat, Howler, is not fixed. As far as I'm aware, he didn't get to her, but he chased her through the house, downstairs, and had her trapped on the back porch where they meowing insanely loud. I kept having to get up and break it up. I tried to put Howler outside, but he wasn't going for it. I eventually had to trap him on the porch and shut the door. I didn't want to this because that's where the litter box and food is, and the water is in the house, in the kitchen. By locking him out, he can't get water and she can't get food or to the litter box. But screw you, cats, I need sleep. Obviously, I can't do this forever, so anyone want a cat? Or kittens? *sigh* I'll just cut his balls off, that's clearly the smart thing to do.
Well then... I guess I'll just sleep when I'm dead.
Monday, December 5, 2011
An Interesting Day- to Say the Least
Today was full of little errands. Little happenings....
Zoey's rescheduled appointment was at 10:30a.m. today. We checked in about 10:20 and got called back by 10:30a.m. Yay!
Nurse came in quickly. Zoey weighs 30lbs. and is 40" tall. After 10 minutes, the nurse tells us the "doctor" a.k.a. nurse practitioner, will be in shortly. Thirty minutes later, a man in scrubs comes in and tapes a piece of paper on the wall that reads, "We are switching to an Electronic Medical Records program. Your wait time may be longer than normal. Thank you for your patience."
Today I learned not to thank people for something you're not sure they'll give you, i.e. my patience.
Another 20 minutes later, the nurse practitioner comes in and tells me Zoey will need at least one shot. She then asks me if Zoey received a Hepatitis B shot at the hospital when she was born. Hmmm. Let me think back three years to the day my daughter was born, when I was hopped up on drugs, was so tired I kept calling my newborn daughter "him", and was fighting postpartum depression while crying and begging my husband for him and my 2-year-old son to drive 10 miles and sleep on the hospital couch in my room.
I reminded her any shots she received would have been recorded by her original pediatrician in Scottsdale, Az. She looked through her file and there was only the current record, which was a continuance of the original.
I like how it took them until she was 3 to realize she may need her very first Hep B shot.
Anyway, we conclude she'll need 2 shots, she leaves to get them, and returns moments later. I convinced Zoey the doctor and nurse wanted to give her Band-Aids on her legs (she loves Band-Aids) and she cooperatively lies back.
The practitioner gives her 2 shots and Zoey doesn't shed a tear. She looks at me like, "Those Band-Aids kinda hurt", but is otherwise not concerned.
The afternoon continues by picking up my grandma's dog from the groomer.
By 3 p.m., I leave to get a little Christmas shopping done. On my way home, as I drive down the street my home is on, where the speed limit is 25mph, an older man in a beat-up Oldsmobile gets mad at me for going the speed limit. On a two lane road, with no passing, he flies around me then slams on his brakes. Well then....
He continues to fly down the road, then apparently decides he's just too mad at my following the posted limited and slams on his brakes again- sitting there, forcing me to hit the brakes when there's no stop sign, or light. once I'm stopped behind him, he goes forward. From this point, he continuously hit the brakes, screeching to a halt, every 50 feet. He ends up slamming on the brakes in the middle of the road- no stop sign, no light- and gets out of his car, walking toward my now stopped van. Bro looks crazy and I immediately dial 911, report the plate number and vehicle description, and go around him. If he followed, I planned to call home and have Dave meet us in the parking lot in front of the house, with his 45 Ruger- 'cause homie don't play that.
Then I wrapped a few presents, tucked the kids in bed, did some reading for school, and now I'm telling all you lovely people (or one person, I have no clue who reads this) how my interesting day of little happenings went.
Well then... let's hope tomorrow is better, but not any less interesting.
Zoey's rescheduled appointment was at 10:30a.m. today. We checked in about 10:20 and got called back by 10:30a.m. Yay!
Nurse came in quickly. Zoey weighs 30lbs. and is 40" tall. After 10 minutes, the nurse tells us the "doctor" a.k.a. nurse practitioner, will be in shortly. Thirty minutes later, a man in scrubs comes in and tapes a piece of paper on the wall that reads, "We are switching to an Electronic Medical Records program. Your wait time may be longer than normal. Thank you for your patience."
Today I learned not to thank people for something you're not sure they'll give you, i.e. my patience.
Another 20 minutes later, the nurse practitioner comes in and tells me Zoey will need at least one shot. She then asks me if Zoey received a Hepatitis B shot at the hospital when she was born. Hmmm. Let me think back three years to the day my daughter was born, when I was hopped up on drugs, was so tired I kept calling my newborn daughter "him", and was fighting postpartum depression while crying and begging my husband for him and my 2-year-old son to drive 10 miles and sleep on the hospital couch in my room.
I reminded her any shots she received would have been recorded by her original pediatrician in Scottsdale, Az. She looked through her file and there was only the current record, which was a continuance of the original.
I like how it took them until she was 3 to realize she may need her very first Hep B shot.
Anyway, we conclude she'll need 2 shots, she leaves to get them, and returns moments later. I convinced Zoey the doctor and nurse wanted to give her Band-Aids on her legs (she loves Band-Aids) and she cooperatively lies back.
The practitioner gives her 2 shots and Zoey doesn't shed a tear. She looks at me like, "Those Band-Aids kinda hurt", but is otherwise not concerned.
The afternoon continues by picking up my grandma's dog from the groomer.
By 3 p.m., I leave to get a little Christmas shopping done. On my way home, as I drive down the street my home is on, where the speed limit is 25mph, an older man in a beat-up Oldsmobile gets mad at me for going the speed limit. On a two lane road, with no passing, he flies around me then slams on his brakes. Well then....
He continues to fly down the road, then apparently decides he's just too mad at my following the posted limited and slams on his brakes again- sitting there, forcing me to hit the brakes when there's no stop sign, or light. once I'm stopped behind him, he goes forward. From this point, he continuously hit the brakes, screeching to a halt, every 50 feet. He ends up slamming on the brakes in the middle of the road- no stop sign, no light- and gets out of his car, walking toward my now stopped van. Bro looks crazy and I immediately dial 911, report the plate number and vehicle description, and go around him. If he followed, I planned to call home and have Dave meet us in the parking lot in front of the house, with his 45 Ruger- 'cause homie don't play that.
Then I wrapped a few presents, tucked the kids in bed, did some reading for school, and now I'm telling all you lovely people (or one person, I have no clue who reads this) how my interesting day of little happenings went.
Well then... let's hope tomorrow is better, but not any less interesting.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Pediatrician's Office (noun) An office with no concept of time, grammar, or logic
Today, Zoey was scheduled for her 3 year check up and to have any shot updates she needed. Her appointment was at 1:15p.m. In order for me to get her to this appointment, I had to drive David to work while Donovan was in school, and we'll have to go pick him up at 9p.m.- all so I could use the van. We arrived promptly at 1:05p.m. I like to think that if I'm early, I'm helping the office stay on schedule, if not ahead of schedule. Not today.
When we sign in, there are six (6) patients ahead of us (their names aren't crossed off on the clipboard, and the waiting room is full, minus three seats). I prepare for a decent wait and take the kids' coats. By 1:40, everyone that was in the waiting when I signed Zoey in, was still waiting. Our 1:15 appointment, was nearly 30 minutes ago and I can only imagine how long the person has been sitting there that would be the next to go. I remember the clipboard's earliest sign-in not crossed off being in at 12:30p.m. They've been waiting over an hour.
I have nowhere else to go until 9p.m. so I was thinking I'd tough it out. The kids seemed content playing with other children and toys.
At 2:00, more people began to arrive. The waiting area is standing room only. There are about 10 kids running about and equal to, or more, parents. Let's note the waiting room is approximately 20'L by 10'W. This is when things get interesting. Donovan, my 5 year old, is autistic. As more people filled the room and the noise level increased, Donovan became irritated and over-stimulated. He began crying, screaming, squealing, and hitting the walls.
By 2:10, I was having to reschedule Zoey's appointment, therefore defeating the purposing if taking David to work and having to drive back out there at 9 tonight, wasting gas driving to his work twice and wasting the gas to have driven Zoey to the appointment she never got.
Now, let's talk about the things that happened during the wait. First, my kids were the ONLY ones who repeatedly said "please", "thank you", "excuse me", and "you're welcome". Even my autistic son knew to say these things.
I'm beginning to understand why people are worried about the future of our world.
As I sat mostly patiently, I read the multitude of posters and fliers on the walls. Directly across from was the following:
Lucky for everyone, they "except" so many insurance programs. Really? You're a professional business. You made this flier to attract customers, business. Yet you made yourself look so, so, so stupid. Here's the good news though: if you can't afford insurance, and don't qualify for any state insurance programs, they take auto insurance. My head hurts. I seriously contemplated calling them for the sole purpose of pointing out their stupidity.
I sent this picture to a few of my friends. My buddy appropriately replied, "Pick another place- one that's more exceptable." LOL
Well then... I think I'll go post this picture all over the Internet now. Good day.
When we sign in, there are six (6) patients ahead of us (their names aren't crossed off on the clipboard, and the waiting room is full, minus three seats). I prepare for a decent wait and take the kids' coats. By 1:40, everyone that was in the waiting when I signed Zoey in, was still waiting. Our 1:15 appointment, was nearly 30 minutes ago and I can only imagine how long the person has been sitting there that would be the next to go. I remember the clipboard's earliest sign-in not crossed off being in at 12:30p.m. They've been waiting over an hour.
I have nowhere else to go until 9p.m. so I was thinking I'd tough it out. The kids seemed content playing with other children and toys.
At 2:00, more people began to arrive. The waiting area is standing room only. There are about 10 kids running about and equal to, or more, parents. Let's note the waiting room is approximately 20'L by 10'W. This is when things get interesting. Donovan, my 5 year old, is autistic. As more people filled the room and the noise level increased, Donovan became irritated and over-stimulated. He began crying, screaming, squealing, and hitting the walls.
By 2:10, I was having to reschedule Zoey's appointment, therefore defeating the purposing if taking David to work and having to drive back out there at 9 tonight, wasting gas driving to his work twice and wasting the gas to have driven Zoey to the appointment she never got.
Now, let's talk about the things that happened during the wait. First, my kids were the ONLY ones who repeatedly said "please", "thank you", "excuse me", and "you're welcome". Even my autistic son knew to say these things.
I'm beginning to understand why people are worried about the future of our world.
As I sat mostly patiently, I read the multitude of posters and fliers on the walls. Directly across from was the following:
Lucky for everyone, they "except" so many insurance programs. Really? You're a professional business. You made this flier to attract customers, business. Yet you made yourself look so, so, so stupid. Here's the good news though: if you can't afford insurance, and don't qualify for any state insurance programs, they take auto insurance. My head hurts. I seriously contemplated calling them for the sole purpose of pointing out their stupidity.
I sent this picture to a few of my friends. My buddy appropriately replied, "Pick another place- one that's more exceptable." LOL
Well then... I think I'll go post this picture all over the Internet now. Good day.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
A love/hate relationship
My kitty, Bubbles (featured in the previously posted video, Kitty Comic Relief ), and I have a love/hate relationship. I don't mean that I love her and she hates me, or visa versa. I mean that I simultaneously lover her and hate her.
Let's sandwich her features and characteristics.
She has the most adorable green eyes, that pierce my soul.
She uses these eyes to look at me like she's going to kill me in my sleep.
She's playful 90% of the time.
She's playful at 12am, running throughout the house as if someone is chasing her. No one is.
She loves to get up in my lap while I'm watching a movie with the kids.
She can't lay down though until she kneads my stomach fat with her front paws.
She's fairly smart. Smart enough to know to run into the kitchen whenever I open the fridge so she can paw at me through the crack in the door.
However, she's not smart enough to pull her paw out when David closes the door.
When she goes into heat, she loves everyone.
When she's in heat she loves everything, including furniture.
She loves to be around, and get attention from, Donovan.
She lays on his toys as he's playing with them so he'll pay attention to her, and even bats his cars away from him.
She's a good kitty, that uses the litter box.
Unfortunately, she litter box retarded. She's goes into her box to use it, but doesn't go in enough to compensate for excrement to come out inside the box. (Her poo is always sitting in the edge of the box- that takes skill.)
And in the last few days, I've learned she loves Christmas.
At least the Christmas tree that she tries to climb, and the skirt that she rolls around in and chews on its tassels.
I could make a pros and cons list, but I fear her cons would outweigh her pros and then I'd kick her to the curb.
Well then... I guess I should focus on her good traits.
Let's sandwich her features and characteristics.
She has the most adorable green eyes, that pierce my soul.
She uses these eyes to look at me like she's going to kill me in my sleep.
She's playful 90% of the time.
She's playful at 12am, running throughout the house as if someone is chasing her. No one is.
She loves to get up in my lap while I'm watching a movie with the kids.
She can't lay down though until she kneads my stomach fat with her front paws.
She's fairly smart. Smart enough to know to run into the kitchen whenever I open the fridge so she can paw at me through the crack in the door.
However, she's not smart enough to pull her paw out when David closes the door.
When she goes into heat, she loves everyone.
When she's in heat she loves everything, including furniture.
She loves to be around, and get attention from, Donovan.
She lays on his toys as he's playing with them so he'll pay attention to her, and even bats his cars away from him.
She's a good kitty, that uses the litter box.
Unfortunately, she litter box retarded. She's goes into her box to use it, but doesn't go in enough to compensate for excrement to come out inside the box. (Her poo is always sitting in the edge of the box- that takes skill.)
And in the last few days, I've learned she loves Christmas.
At least the Christmas tree that she tries to climb, and the skirt that she rolls around in and chews on its tassels.
I could make a pros and cons list, but I fear her cons would outweigh her pros and then I'd kick her to the curb.
Well then... I guess I should focus on her good traits.
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