Wanna hear me whine?

Good!  You came to the right place!

I am utterly depressed about not keeping up with my vow to blog every day this month.  I really am, I’d much rather be blogging than doing what I’m doing.

I’m ill.  In the sore-throat-high-fever-I hope-I’m-not-sporting-a-case-of-strep variety.  My carpal tunnel in my wrists is flaring so badly driving is a painful chore, let alone the numb burning that I get from typing a few paragraphs.  While condo life is definitely more simple because I have a dishwasher and a working washer/dryer, acting as a single parent is not.  I’d kill for a night with a couple hours to do nothing. A couple minutes would do.

I’m tired, sick, frazzled, and I’m missing hundreds of clumps of hair.  My biggest worry right now is that when my baby girl turns four this Sunday I won’t be able to pull off the sort of cake she’s requested as neither cake making nor art are talents I possess.

There’s more.  I’m just not willing to share.  I’m in one of those moments that won’t kill me but will hopefully make me stronger.

Thanks for listening to me whine.  I’m hoping to make up the loss of posting days.  And I’m also hoping to put up a Christmas tree up soon.  It’s time.

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I’m buying a swim cap tomorrow

Henry is just about a year and a haf old.  He’s an easy kid, for the most part.  He’s a wild toddler and these are the toughest months, but he is a smiley joyful kid and all the mischeif he gets into is easily worth his snuggles and smiles.  

But Henry pulls hair.  Not once in awhile, all of the whiles.  I used to have thick long hair.  It’s still long, in some parts.  But (and this is mostly because I sleep next to him) it is thin and broken and as vain as this is I hate my hair right now because for about the past six months Henry has pulled it out in clumps.  

It’s not a naughtly thing.  He doesn’t pull hair like when a kid bites or hits.  He pulls it for comfort, like a baby sucks it’s thumb.  But the comfort I am prividing him while he sleeps leaves hundreds of hairs on my pillow each night.  

I talked to his doctor, I went and got a real hair cut at a salon to see if I could cover the loss, which I never do as I always just trim it up myself. I tried laying long haired dolls next to him, he prefers natural hair over plastic.  I even started wrapping scarfs tightly around my head at bed time.  He can wriggle his tiny hand into the scarf and commence the pull fest.  

I can ony thing of two more things to try, kick him out of my bed and wear a swim cap to bed.  Tomorrow we try the swim cap.  I really hope this works, I truy don’t want to kick him out of bed?. But little guy-that’s where you’re going if we can’t work this out. My scalp is raw, and my hair is atrocious.  

Anyone have this issure ever?  How did you deal with it?  

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Kids Today…Don’t Have Guns n Roses

I missed yesterday, and while I was in the middle of today’s entry I relized it was going to take too long to post today.  So I have to get something in so I don’t end up needing to make up two days.

Think quick Kristiane…gotta make a post…it’s November…LIGHTBULB!  November Rain!

Oh Guns n Roses, you never fail to deliver. Well in the 90s you didn’t, now you are off the radar.

There has always been great and terrible music.  Any level headed person can see this.  But, as I was re-watching the video for November Rain this evening, I decided that while your generation, if it is indeed different than my own, may have or have had great music…it will never be as great as the generation of those who came of age listening to Guns N Roses.  Not solely because of Axel and his kin, though they are a good part of it.  However (and as I said, there’s great music from all eras) the top 40 music from 1985-1995 is far superior to, in my ever so humble opinion, all other Top  40 decades.  Ever.  It’s more diversive, it’s more artistic, we had freaking amazing MTV videos to go along with the songs etc.  And we had Guns n Roses.

I may or may not have just spent the better of two hours watching old songs on YouTube.  If I had, it would have reminded me that on any given afternoon when school let out I could watch MTV and see a video by Guns n Roses sandwiched between Dr. Dre and Deee-Lite.

I’ll be back tomorrow with something longer and less divisive.  But let’s do one more, it’ll be fun:

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I Asked a Clerk For D-Bags

I am dealing with a new vaccuum cleaner at my condo.  I actually hate this vaccum cleaner, as it requires me to purchase bags.  It also is as loud as a jet airplane.  Ear plugs are suggested when I flip on the power. I realized there are no back-up bags for the thing when I was cleaning today and added them to my shopping list.  The side of the vaccum says, “BAG TYPE: D”. 

I added them to the list.  At the store I found everthing I needed.  Except vaccuum bags.  Sporting one of those I-can’t-find-what-I-need faces a box boy asked if I was finding everything alright?  

“Do you have any D-Bags?,” I replied

“For vaccuum cleaners.” I added, a moment too late.

My face was red.  He was clearly stifling a giant, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  I’m guessing I was the first customer to ever ask his assistance in locating, D-Bags.  

All that hoopla and they don’t carry ANY vaccuum bags.  I rehearsed the phrase, “vaccuum cleaner bags, size D” in my head a hundred times on my way home.   I will write that down verbatum as well on my next shopping list.  

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Car Free Sunday

Have you ever had a flat tire or ran out of gas on the freeway? Sure, it sucks. Inconvenience aside, having to get out of your car and stand on or next to the freeway gives you a totally different experience of freeways (or highways).  
I’m still without wifi and in a quick search for something historic about today, November 4th, I found that here was an oil crises in 1973 which caused Holland to declare Sundays, “car free”.  
I found some pictures. While I am in love with driving. It looks so peaceful on the freeways.

 People rollerskated, biked, even ride horseback on multi-lane freeways. The places they only saw zip by in the past they got to experience without glass and steel separating in between, or even had a place to relax.

  Ok. This is a bit much. Guessing the picture is from an article about the new law of no cars on Sunday. I doubt Jr there hauled the lazy boy and house plant on the back of his tractor.  

So, it’s not a holiday. But it’s a historic event. Forty-two years ago the country of Holland banned cars on Sunday. I think we should revive this here in the US. But not with cars, let’s ban Facebook on Tuesdays and Twitter on Fridays and Saracha on Wednesdays. (Seriously, it’s alright but there are plenty of other superior hot sauces).  

See you tomorrow. And tomorrow, the Internet fix it person arrives. I won’t have to thumb type. Holla!

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My Dirty Little Secret

Did I mention I’m not staying at my home for a few months?  I’m not.  I’m living it up in a condo while my house is being finished.  And by living it up I mean taking money out of the money set aside to finish my house to rent a place to live so my littlest kids don’t eat screws and climb scaffolding. 

My point here is I’m using condo wifi.  And it lasted a whopping two days before going out.  So while I have no reliable internet to use a keyboard ready device I must blog with my thumbs on my smart phone using the small amount of data I allow myself in my cell plan.

Two paragraphs of explanation later, I have to blog quick today.  So let me tell you my secret. I’m currently a barista.  I make coffee and espresso drinks for people in an amazing little shop.  It’s a jewel, to be honest.  We serve the finest espresso drinks around and we’re in a town where most would believe fine things are rare.  I take enormous pride in my work and with a nose pointed high into the air I mock chain coffee with snarky sass and annoying confidence.  

But there’s this drink.  A drink I can only buy at the one place I never buy actual coffee.  *Big Sigh*   Im addicted to Green Tea Frappuccinos.  

It’s so shameful, I know.  I’d say 3-5 times a week I drive my vehicle over to the local abomination of craft coffee shop and make my order.  It’s become such a problem that they KNOW me.  I’m a regular.  It’s just that, nobody else has this drink.  It’s the  green tea matcha powder.  I ask for extra matcha and less sweet.  It’s just…so good.  And above getting my antioxidants in frappe form, it’s being served to ME.  Having someone make me a drink is something I was missing.  I make hundred of orders weekly for other people.  Having someone make me something is really amazing for once.  

So now you know.  I won’t blame you if you have a hard time looking me in the eye for a little while.  But for the record, I still despise   chain coffee. That’s worth something, isn’t it?

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Worst Variety Store Finds

There is a store in the town nearest to my home and it boasts a wide selection of necessities and nonsense.  It’s called The Variety Store and the name explains what they sell.  A little of what you need, some of what you don’t, and a whole ton of things no person alive has ever needed.

I grabbed a ten dollar bill and The Max and told him we had a solid goal of finding the weirdest stuff we could find with my cash.  Plenty of treasures were left behind as ten bucks doesn’t go far, even at The Variety Store.  But let me tell you a story about what we did buy.

Candy cigarettes are still a thing.  Who knew?  But no longer can they be titled cigarettes, but instead, candy.  With, I believe, an imitation at the Lucky Strike logo and proper shape and sized box you can buy your child not candy cigarettes, but candy…candy?!

  Is there a worst tasting candy than this?  Slightly sweet chalk doesn’t seem to be enough to merit pretending to smoke cigarettes.  If we’re splitting hairs about this, pretending to smoke doesn’t seem like a joy ride either.  

There’s so much to love to hate about this gag toy that I tossed a coin on which to start with.  It was tails, and tails was why is this a 14+ suggested aged product?  It says right on the package that children under three years are at risk of cholking on the chunks of plastic.  What about this is forbidden for the four to thirteen year old crowd? 

The package also states it contains pimples and warts.  However I only see one nipple and one raisin.  What fun is a raisin looking gag?  Pop it in a bowl of granola and congrats, your kid just cholked.  And they aren’t even under three.  

Finally that face that gentleman is making because his lady has suddenly sprouted a face full of “pimples.”  This is supporting my conclusion that they are nipples. A man with that receding hair and beer gut certainly has seen a less than fair complextion in his lifetime.  He has never seen a lady with a dozen nipples on her face, hence his cowering stance.

Lord let me never be the parent (or pet owner) who rejoices at the departure of my children.  But if I am, let me not be the person who hangs signs showing whoever I know that I need to visit the great wizard for a new heart.

This was my favorite.  This caused me to break my ten dollar limit.  Fake tampons which I can haul small amounts of hooch.  Perfect. 

Look a little closer.  I can actually read the words booze tube through the the plastic wrapper.  Another thing, these are easily twice the length of a regular tampon.  I’m guessing that if you truly attempted to sneak liquor into these products you would be fine as most folks don’t linger too long while searching purses shoved full of ginormous  tampons.  
My most favorite part of the tampon flask is the they specify it is not intended for illegal use.  I’m still searching to figure out a legal scenario involving camouflaged liquor.  Help me out and suggest one if you can.

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