Archive for the ‘My Version of Events: A Daily Journal’ Category


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j0405208.jpgSo I’ve been completely remiss in posting.  I could give you a myriad of excuses.  But alas, thats all they would be… excuses. 

I should be one of these people who make time for things they enjoy.   I happen to be one of those people who think about the things I enjoy, and am always doing the things I detest.

 So, despite my lenghthy absence, I want my re-emergance to blogging to be on a low note (yes – I know it should say a “high note”, but trust me  – keep reading, you’ll soon get the picture).

 Let’s do some catching up first:

1) I recently recieved court ordered custody of my adorable 18 month-0ld nephew.

2) I’ve had no sleep since recieving said custody of adorable child.

3) I have been thrust into the world of figuring out how to become a foster parent (in order to legitimatize said custody of adorable child who causes me to have no sleep.)

 One step in becoming a foster parent is getting a physical. 

Now, if you’ve read my previous post, On Being A Weight Watchers Flunky, you know that I’m not the crowning example of physical fitness.  But that aside, I had no choice – and I couldn’t imagine that a few extra pounds (okay – more that a “few”.  Don’t be so judgemental  – I’m working on it !) would keep me from parenting my nephew.

So, this past Monday, I walked into the doctor’s office. (more…)

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j0399288.jpgI. HATE. SCALES.

For the past few years they’ve told me nothing but bad news.  Occasionally, they’ll give some small ray of hope – only to snatch it back on the next visit.  They’re intrinsically evil.

 Every once in a while I’ll try to reason with the scale.  I’ll say things like –

Listen – here’s what I’ll do – I’ll go to the gym all this week.  I’ll even give up the sausage and eggs for breakfast on Tuesday, and Thursday.

 (Monday’s don’t count because it’s a depressing day and I need something to cheer me up.  Wednesdays don’t count because they’re a reward for surviving Monday & Tuesday – and Friday doesn’t count, well… because it’s Friday).

So inevitably I go into this bargain, believing that if I hold up my end, the scale will hold up its part.



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j01850472.jpgMy husband has announced that he’s going camping -I am, obviously, filled with dread.  I have this thing about being alone in the house.  Mind you I’m not technically alone – my 7 year old is with me.  But by alone I mean “without the comfort of an adult who knows how to shoot a gun and/or fight intruders.” 

I unforturnately can do none of those things (and neither can my 7 year old).  I’ve had bad experiences being home alone.  

A few years ago my husband was working graveyard shifts, and I – to avoid being home alone – spent most of my time at my mother’s house.  One Friday, after spending most of the evening in my mother’s company, decided to be a “big girl”, pack it up and go home…at midnight (my 1st mistake).  

Thirty minutes later finds me walking through my front door (turning on every light – because for some unrational reason it makes me feel safer), and I notice something strange… The outside door that leads to my backyard is wide open. A million things beginning spinning round my mind.  It’s midnight – how long has the door been open?  Do I see anything visbly missing from the house?  Why didn’t I invest in an alarm system? and of course… Is HE still here??? 


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