I'm surviving

OK, so I had a bad weekend. I don't know that things have gotten better, necessarily, but I'm handling it better. One of the problems I had last week was a severe lack of sleep. Have I slept better this week? Well, not necessarily, but when the shit has hit the fan, it's been a relatively small amount of shit and I've had sufficient sleep at that time.

Last night Sproing was being a little shit. He argues about everything. We cannot have a simple discussion without him turning it into an argument. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, Superman was also there helping me and just being close (he's such a sweetheart!) and Sproing was arguing like a madman. It would have been funny if I hadn't been the target of his anger. I stuck it out, got a few hugs from Superman, and carried on. Maybe I'm partially detached from the whole shebang. That's how I survive. Some days it works, some days not so much. I got through it without any pharmaceutical or alcoholic assistance.

So I downloaded an interesting little book for my Kindle yesterday entitled How to Drive Your Family Crazy for Fun and Profit. It was one of the free books offered yesterday. I read it in half an hour or so. The author has some good things to say, much of it she learned from Al-Anon. She applies most of this to her siblings. I of course considered how I could apply the concepts to these teenage hangers-on, and the applications, though limited, are available. When I was reading the book I thought of you, Rox. I recommend it specifically for you. Her family reminded me of your descriptions of your extended family.

Returning to the subject of sleep: my sleep patterns are acting kinda menopausal. Most of this week I wake up around 3:30, give or take half an hour, and I'm HOT. Especially my feet. The soles of my feet get really hot sometimes. I can't get back to sleep while it's still dark, but get irresistibly sleepy around 8 or 9. Had some caffeine this morning (a little bit) so managed to avoid the morning nap, but got the runs instead. That'll keep me awake!

I also seem to be making my monthly quota of Facebork postings today. Usually I scan, "like" a status update, maybe make a comment or two, but don't post much. Sometimes I'll read an especially interesting (to me) article and post a link. Occasionally I'll share something really good. I rarely actually make status updates as such, but have today. As I write this paragraph I'm getting more and more bored. How can you read this boring crap? I obviously have nothing worth saying. At least in this paragraph.

One of the things I like about Facebook is that the first half of the word I type with my left hand, the second half with my right hand. That's what I like about the word "facebook." Really? Is this all I can find to talk about?

I had a dream yesterday during my morning nap. (Damn, that's pathetic.) Tom Hanks lived in my neighborhood, drove a red pickup truck, and dropped by my house to hang out. The neighborhood and house in the dream were nothing like where I actually live, save the brick on all the houses. My house was a two storey affair, but the stairs between the floors were somehow unavailable so I couldn't get from one floor to the other. A bunch of people came by for a party (so unlike me!) which we held in the basement rumpus room. We played bingo? Or something like that. There was a young man who was trying to act like Tom Hanks, but was only successful at being annoying. He was trying to charm me, make me fall in love with him. He thought he was second in line for my affections when Superman abdicated his role as my husband. Superman got angry at him, but don't remember if he decked the guy. The Tom Hanks/husband pretender was at the party and everyone else found him annoying. Also, all the other party guests were old folks in dowdy clothing. Damned dream has been invading my awake life for two days now. I'm ready to forget the thing.

That seems to be all I have to say today. I know I'm smarter and more interesting than this, but damned if I know how to access it today. Perhaps I'm rotting away, bit by bit.

Oh boy

It's bad again, peoples. Bad, bad, bad. I'm losing it.

Many of you will recognize the question "Are you in danger of hurting yourself or others?" I was thiiiiis close on Friday.

This is what I feel like:

(This is a sculpture by artist Bruno Walpoth. His works are shown here.)

Cracked. And not ready to appear in public.

Of course it's the kids. Both of them angered me on Friday. Sproing missed the bus because he's an idiot. As soon as I got back from taking him to school, the school called about Diva. Shit. Diva's pants were in violation of the dress code, and would I please bring some appropriate pants. Shit.

I looked in her room for some pants. O.M.G. What a stinking mess. After poking around for about 10 minutes in the stink (she'd wet the bed and not washed the sheets, and I found other wet sheets bunched up in a laundry basket) I discovered her pile of dirty clothes (but not pee-soaked) and retrieved a pair of jeans. Took them to the school, but had to wait. I was so tired. And angry. Hadn't gotten to sleep until 4 that morning with the help of pain-reliever-PM, so getting up at 7:55 to deal with Sproing ... was unpleasant. I wanted to be home, take a shower, and go back to sleep.

But no, Diva's grade principal wanted to see me first, but she was in a meeting. Shit. (The school has one head principal and a handful of vice principals, each VP in charge of discipline for one category of students.) Well, lots of things happened in the waiting process. I didn't want to see Diva, but was escorted to the counselor's office in which she was waiting. And scowling. She's good at scowling. And was wearing tight, tight leggings, black with gold lame leopard spots. Hideous.

When Diva left the office to change her pants, this counselor (not Diva's regular guy) informed me that Diva has anger issues, is racist, and hates the fact that I am white because she (Diva) is black. Yeah, duh, this I've been suffering for years. YEARS!!! Then Diva's assigned counselor showed up so we moved to his office. Nice guy. Diva feels comfortable talking to him.

Then the vice principal came in. By then I had learned that the principal wanted me to take Diva home because of her behavior. Seems that when Diva was offered a change of pants from the school's clothes closet, she went ballistic. I can picture it. I've seen her do it thousands of times. Scream and yell and cuss at the adults trying to help her. Bitch. Oh, get this: the lady who offered her the clothes, a Mrs. R, has told Diva that she's a brat. My kids have dealt with Mrs. R before. Or rather, Mrs. R has dealt with my kids. Diva told us about the "brat" comment yesterday evening when Superman had his computer opened. (My computer hasn't been on since the day I wrote the previous post.) He looked up the definition of "brat" and lo and behold, it describes Diva (and Sproing) to a T. So I told Diva it's the truth. Diva has also been called a bitch (not by the adults, not in front of her anyway) and that's true, too.

I implored the administrators to keep her at school. By then I was a blubbering mess, eyes and nose leaking all over the place. Counselors kept shoving boxes of tissue at me. I said that she'd already been suspended for three days and it's so early in the school year. She was at school for one day, Thursday, before they wanted me to take her home. So they said if she could behave herself the rest of the day she could stay. Thank the gods in heaven and hell that she did. Stay at school, that is. Because by then I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, not able to think clearly about much of anything. I was honestly afraid of what might happen if I took her home. Really. I had a very strong urge to hurt her very badly. Either hurt her or harm myself. It could have gone either way.

This is actually a kind of progress, maybe. See, in the past I've always turned my anger and grief inward, always aimed to hurt myself. That I want to do serious bodily harm to this brat/bitch is, I think, a good sign. In context, anyway.

So Diva stayed at school and I went home, crying all the way. Took an Ativan (1 mg) as soon as I got home, then showered. After half an hour I still was wound up tighter than a watch spring, so I took another Ativan. By then my dear boy C was home, and he sat on the bed beside me and talked me down, so to speak. I had my bedside clock on my chest, waiting for 15 more minutes to see if I needed another pill. I didn't, thanks in part to C.

I was at the school for over an hour. The whole shebang, starting with Sproing, lasted a little over two hours. I finally went to sleep sometime after 11:00 and slept until Superman got home around 5:00. I had to cry on him for a while. He fed me some supper and I took another Ativan. I needed it. I sort of watched the Phillies beat the Braves (and anne marie cheers!) in a drugged stupor (me, not the Braves) before falling into a deep sleep once again. Sleep is best. It's the closest I can get to dead without actually dying. Not that I'd mind dying, but other people would be very upset. So I just sleep.

All day yesterday (Saturday) I felt pretty fragile. The brats were bratty, but I stayed in my room and Superman dealt with them. I tried not to take another Ativan because they are very addictive. Some of the stress and shakiness I felt when I woke up yesterday was an after effect of the drug. So I waited. By the end of the day I needed another one, but I didn't take it. Had some pain-reliever-PM instead and slept pretty well last night. Had a weird dream about an arsonist in New York City and a deaf girl, but that's beside the point. Probably. (Freud and Jung might have a different opinion, but I don't care.)

Superman took both the brats to the skating rink last night to get them THE HELL out of my house for a while. I was asleep when they returned. (Oh, I tried to watch the Braves vs. Phillies game last night, but was too anxious to watch baseball. Baseball, y'all. The second most boring (maybe third if you count curling) sport on television! (Golf being the most boring.))

Curling in funny pants. Like golf: boring and the players wear funny pants.

To continue: When Superman got the kids home, he had a talk with each of them individually. He told me about it this morning. He told them it was their fault that I was going nutty, and that he did not want to put his wife into a psychiatric hospital due to them being such horrid children. And that if he heard either of them saying anything disrespectful to me, he would hurt them. Pain, he said. They were suitably intimidated. But that was last night. Who knows what they'll be like today. 

Diva got up and went to church with a friend, and Sproing spent the night with a neighborhood friend, so he's not home now either. Superman pretty much kicked Sproing out last night, knowing he'd go to his friend's house. Good enough for me. It will be interesting to see how long it takes the boy to come home today. It's just past noon now. 

Superman called my therapist last night. She talked to me for a while, I told her what all happened and how I feel. Asked her about psych units around here. The hospital in town closed its psych ward a few years ago, though there's talk of opening it up again. My therapist likes the one in Greenville, she said. Not that it's time for me to go there yet. Probably. She also said she is going to talk to a lawyer friend of hers on Monday about getting these kids deemed incorrigible, and perhaps they will be removed from the home on that count. I have my doubts. It's very difficult to get rid of one's nasty children. We've been trying for years. I don't have the strength to look for an alternative placement for them right now. Too traumatized. 

Today's post has been brought to you by the word Traumatized. 

Things I find interesting

I share "thoughts for today" with you occasionally. Many come from A.Word.A.Day. Today's Word.A.Day is honcho. Here, let me show you.

A.Word.A.Day

with Anu Garg
honcho

PRONUNCIATION:

(HAWN-choh) 

MEANING:

noun: One who is in charge of a situation; leader; boss.
verb tr.: To organize, manage, or lead a project, event, etc.

ETYMOLOGY:

From Japanese honcho, from hon (squad) + cho (chief). Earliest documented use: 1947.

USAGE:

“The three head honchos are the recipients of the Best CEO Award.”
Cool Heads and Calm Nerves at the Helm; The Business Times (Singapore); Aug 12, 2013.

Explore "honcho" in the Visual Thesaurus. 
A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
You can out-distance that which is running after you, but not what is running inside you. -Rwandan proverb
And I've included the thought for today which I find to be very true.
Honcho, it turns out, is a Japanese word. Huh, that surprises me. I thought it was Spanish.

I am home with Diva today. She's behaving herself well. Yesterday she acted like a mean bitch, but today she's doing well so far. I've had her doing some work, though not a lot. I don't have the gumption to drive her harder right now. She's reading Elie Wiesel's Night in her English class. I have a copy, and my plan is to read to her from the book later in the afternoon. She doesn't read very well. I could have her read the book herself, but she will bitch about it (probably) and either won't do it, or will pretend to do it and not get anything out of it.

I read some of my favorite blogs today. It's been a while since I read most of these blogs. I love reading what sort of things my blog buddies are up to. Why don't I do it more often? Maybe it's the depression thing. Or perhaps it just takes too much time. Yeah, I've been sitting here for a couple of hours reading blogs when I could have (should have) been doing other useful things. I have stuff to accomplish today. Sitting on my fat ass reading blogs isn't one of them.

Twitch moved out!! We (Superman and I) drove him to Charleston on Saturday, left him in a cute little apartment with a couple of other young guys, friends of his. Operative word is "left." Not French gauche left, but abandoned left. "Left without him." Oh, it's good to have one fewer character living in this house. One of the things I want to accomplish today (this week) is to move the rest of his stuff out of the room he's been staying in and move MY stuff into it, to reclaim it as my office. This is a glorious thing. Though I think I'll paint it before it gets crowded up with my junk. What color? Don't know yet. We have LOTS of extra paint hanging around the house, cans we've used for other things. We have a lot of ugly green paint, and I don't want that. We also have some pink, some dark purple, and a few yellows. I'm thinking yellow would look nice in there. Maybe pink, but probably not. Pink can be nice, but it's easy to overdo the pink.

Superman is coming home for lunch soon, so I'm gonna get this posted and heat up some of the left over chili that's taking up room in my refrigerator.

Diva's school honeymoon period is over

She made it seven days before getting suspended. I got a call from her grade principal this afternoon. This grade principal is different from last year's. We have a woman this year, Mrs. S. She seems like a nice lady. We had as pleasant a chat as possible considering the circumstances.

Diva's offense: hitting another student (male) in the head/face with a three-ring binder. The story as I understand it: the boy got too close to Diva as they were getting their supplies for class -binders or calculators, I've heard it both ways. He might have pushed her, but he definitely got too close to her. According to Diva (as related by Mrs. S.) he called her a bitch. According to Sproing (he's in that class, too, but was on the other side of the room and missed most of the drama) she told him something along the lines of "get the fuck out of my way." It sounds like something she would say. Also, by the way, not that it makes a difference, but she is a bitch. However, it's inappropriate for anyone to point that out on school property.

I haven't seen Diva yet. She either went with the volleyball team to an away game or rode home with her friend on the other school bus. So I haven't heard the story from her. Sproing told me the story according to the injured boy, who told Sproing. The kid's eye was bleeding. Sproing says the binder hit him in the eye ball, but I'm not sure it wasn't just the skin around the eye. I don't know.

I had to stifle my laugh while on the phone when I learned that Diva hit the poor kid. Sounds just like her. Really really didn't want the principal to hear me laughing at Diva's antics. I feel sorry for the boy. Hopefully he will stay out of her personal space from henceforth.

The girl is suspended for three days beginning tomorrow. She'll be home Friday, (Sat, Sun) and Monday is a holiday (Happy Labor Day) so that doesn't count. Suspension days continue Tuesday and Wednesday. It seems she often gets suspended on days that correspond to holidays and/or weekends. So yeah, she gets a whole week off. And it's my pain in the ass to get to keep her busy and NOT having any fun for a week. Oh, we'll let her slide (a little bit) over the weekend, but tomorrow and Tuesday and Wednesday I'll have work for her. Housework if not school homework. Haven't discussed it with Superman yet, but she'll be grounded for the time, including the weekend.

That will be difficult to enforce on Saturday, when Superman, Twitch and I drive to Charleston to deposit Twitch in his new digs. I think I don't care. We'll tell her to say home and get (list of chores) done, but if she goes off with friends, what can we do? If she's still gone when we return, she'll be in deep weeds.

I feel like shit. Here it is, all over again. I have an annoying desire to beat her with a whip.

Any suggestions about what kind of chores around the house she can do?

Good grief

So yeah, I guess it has been a while since I put up a post here. I've been avoiding the internet again. Nothing personal, y'all. Just depressed.

The kids got back into school last Tuesday. They've been at school for just over a week and neither of them has been suspended yet. Yay! I haven't had any calls from the principals. So far so good. Diva says she has all A's so far. She's also going to be part of the girls' volleyball team, sort of. She's been drafted as a line guard or something. She'll watch the boundary line (or whatever it's called) and judge whether the ball is in, out, or on the line. Good for her. She really is trying to keep her nose clean and do the right thing. I'm annoyed with her, but I think that has more to do with the antagonism between the two of us.

I don't want to talk about Sproing. Suffice to say he isn't behaving well. Got another B&E charge (felony) a couple of weeks ago. Still hasn't been to court. Grrrr.

Twitch is moving to Charleston! (South Carolina) He spent last week there with a couple of friends and looked for a job. So far nothing, but he did pay September rent at the apartment there. He'll be the third roommate with those friends. It is my fervent hope that he is gainfully employed within the month and can afford October rent. It's a good move, him leaving here and moving to Charleston. I don't want him to have to come back home. He doesn't either. Superman and I will take Twitch and his load of stuff to Charleston on Saturday. I'm looking forward to seeing Twitch's new apartment and spending some time alone with my husband after we drop off Twitch at his new home.

I am relieved that the annoying teenagers are back in school. I've not recovered from the summer break. Seriously. My nerves are raw and I can't think clearly. Is this a minor case of PTSD? Maybe. I feel as though I'm wounded.

Shall we talk about the dog? Oreo. Predominantly black lab, with rumors of pit bull parentage and signs of possible other breed influences. Dalmatian has been suggested. I'll tell you what, though, he's a smart pup. He's about 6 months old, maybe 6.5. We have him in beginner obedience classes at PetSmart. He learns fast. He is a very good dog. We have considered finding him a new home because we are not really ready to have another dog right now. However, the longer we have him and work with him, the more we want to keep him. If you recall, Sproing brought him home, saying he'd take good care of him, etc. Yeah, right. I said "no." Superman said "no" but the dog (for reasons I can't recall) spent the weekend here, at which point Superman changed his position on keeping the dog. Although he's a wonderful dog, he is a puppy and requires a lot of work, supervision, and diligence to keep him from chewing up my entire house. Right now I want to keep the dog and get rid of Sproing. If only it were that easy.

Do we want to talk about my depression? Disclaimer: I do not want to hurt myself, have no plans to do so. There is no joy in my life. I have a good life, indeed, and I am deeply loved. That helps. I am mortally tired of the shit I have to deal with. I don't really know how to describe it. I'm stuck. Pretty worthless for many values of "worth." Oh, I have many fine qualities, but really? Day to day I'm barely surviving.

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

Braves baseball helps. Fewer than six weeks left in the season, and "we" (the Braves) are almost a shoo-in for post-season playoffs. We're 13 games ahead of second place in the National League Eastern Division. And as of this evening we have the highest win percentage of any other team in the MLB. For most of my readers, that means jack shit. The significance here is that I'm not too depressed to want to watch Braves baseball. So it could be worse.

And that's all I know.

Thought for Today, and other stuff

You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions. -Naguib Mahfouz, writer, Nobel laureate (1911-2006) 

7.5 days until the kidlets go back to school. It can't start early enough. Tomorrow (Tuesday) they'll go over there to get their IDs made and pick up schedules. Superman took them both shopping for clothes last weekend (two weeks ago?) and Sproing was in a mood and didn't get anything except a pair of shoes. He asked a few days ago if we can go out and get him some clothes. He is so out-of-favor with me that I'm not getting him anything. Not now, anyway. A week or four into the semester I'll get him some pants, maybe shirts. He probably needs socks and underwear, too. But he ain't gettin' it this week. 

It's bloody hot here. Hot and humid with intense sunshine. I just checked; current ambient temperature is 91F but the heat index is 99F. It feels at least that hot to me. Diva and I were out in it. She had a doctor's appointment and we drove my truck, Manny. No air conditioning, of course. And no shade in the doctor's office parking lot. But we're home now, so it's alright. 

However, the passenger side window doesn't work. When we got home I pushed the switch to close it and - nuthin'. That's one disadvantage of electric windows. I suspect the window motor is dead. Superman happened to be home for lunch, and he put a sheet of plastic over the window for me. Manny still needs to get his "check engine" light checked out. The light came on as I was driving north on Hwy 7 in Vermont, now two months ago. The light isn't lit when I first turn the motor, but comes on and stays on after I drive for a couple of miles. 

I avoided my computer all last week and through the weekend. When I was going through my email this morning I unsubscribed from quite a few email newsletter things. Not all, but a lot. I still have A.Word.A.Day. That one stays. That's the source of the above quote. 

I'm still depressed. August does this to me. Well, probably not August specifically, but things that happen in August. Like the oppressive heat, and the kids having been on summer break from school for so long! Really, we ought to have school all year, with two or three week breaks between semesters. That, plus all the regular holidays and teacher work days and such, there would still be 180 days in the school year. I've figured it out before. 

That's all I got, folks. Ask me questions, maybe that will give me some ideas about what to write.

Here's the thing

I dread spending time with my children. Well, with some of my children. One in particular. The young boy is being a pain in the ass, and has been all summer. Although to my surprise and delight, Diva is doing very well. Though I'm not eagerly looking for opportunities to spend time with her, when these opportunities occur they can be almost pleasant. It's a process for both of us, Diva and me, learning to get along in each other's company. Sproing, though, isn't attempting to make things better. He's just obnoxious and rude and inconsiderate, etc. School starts in 15 days. Yes, I'm counting them, the days.

Today has been difficult for me, and it's a "me" thing. I slept in, which isn't a bad thing necessarily. I got up and showered, which is good, since some days I forego the shower. (That's one of the signs that I'm depressed, the skipping of the shower. Also the sleeping in.) I spent a few moments in the same room with Sproing. That was stressful, so I left. I was finishing my morning grooming routine in the bathroom but the cat's litter box made the experience odiferously unpleasant. Well, what to do except clean it out, right? Superman usually does that job, but he's at work and I'm uncomfortable with the stench, so here I go. And make a mess of it. Dumped half the cat poop on the bathroom floor. I cleaned it up effectively. (Sometimes when I try to clean up my messes, I end up making bigger messes.) But in the process I stepped in dirty cat litter (no icky solids, but nasty nonetheless). And I'd just had a shower. So I washed my feet in the sink. One at a time; I didn't levitate over the lavatory to wash both feet simultaneously. Now, on a good day I'd have a laugh at my clumsiness and go about my business. Today is not a good day. I very nearly cried. And I've been anxious and on edge ever since. I have some pills to help that, but I'm going to try eating a healthy lunch (I had a healthy breakfast, though it was small) and see if that doesn't help soothe my nerves somewhat. I have to go through the living room where the Sproing is lying in wait to be ugly to me, and that increases my resistance to leaving the relative safety of my bedroom.

As you may have noticed, I'm not writing much here these days. Actually, I went all week last week without turning on my computer at all. I think it was yesterday, Sunday, that I finally logged on and checked my email. I deleted most of that without reading it. Just too depressed. Facebook depresses me these days, too, though I did peruse the 'book for a while yesterday. Probably won't mess with it today.

I watched the Braves win all three games against the Phillies this weekend. That was about the only "fun" thing I could do all weekend. I was strong enough one day last week to get my hair cut. That's a stressful activity for me, as I've mentioned in the past. But it was OK. And I spent the time with Twitch, too, which was pleasant. I picked him up from work (he has a small part-part-time job doing warehouse stuff at a department store), we went to the cheap haircut place and waited a long time for my haircut, then he helped me buy $300+ worth of groceries at Aldi. Aldi is the place where you bag your own groceries in your own bags/boxes. I have a few market bags and miscellaneous small containers for that sort of thing, but not for $300+ worth of groceries. I had an old medium sized dog crate rattling around in the back seat of my truck, though, and we assembled that to hold lots of groceries. Used bungee cords to secure it in the bed of the truck. Thankfully it was a rare sunny day here in the 'wood. The whole thing was kinda funny. Perhaps I should have taken a picture of it, but I didn't. Anyway, that was a busy day. Buying, bagging, transporting, unloading, and putting away that much stuff takes a long time and lots of energy. Way more energy than I have today, for sure.

These paragraphs are too long. I reread them, looking for a good place to divide them into smaller chunks, but find no good breaking point. So there you have it; long, rambling paragraphs. It's the best I can do today, and I'm OK with that.

Let's go find some healthy lunch. Maybe that will help. (It won't help the paragraphs, but will hopefully help my emotional condition.)

Oh, Look at the Time!

As in, it's been a long time since I posted. I've been either busy, depressed, or hiding.

Tonight I had lots of beer. I drank all 5 of the remaining beers in the refrigerator.

We bought another refrigerator. It's a used one, only 10.5 sq ft. It sits in our bedroom. The original purpose of this refrigerator is to keep our beer safe from predation by the other residents of this household. Yes, someone (or more than one someone) has been swiping our beer. What cads! So I got a used 'fridge so we can keep our stuff secure behind the locked door of our bedroom..

There are too many people in this house. Twitch has an alternative situation that might (I hope!!) come to be. A friend of his has a place in Charleston SC and is looking for a third roommate. Twitch has already applied for jobs in that area online. I really hope he can move to Charleston.

The kidlets have been much easier to deal with this summer than in previous years. And actually Diva is sometimes pleasant! Can you believe it? Sproing is a pain in the ass, but I'm not letting it get to me much. Here's the thing: I went away for three weeks (you remember my trip to New England, right?) The separation helped the relationship between me and the kids. While I was away, Superman kinda let loose of the reigns a bit. He's not as strict as I am anyway. So when I came back it was easier to keep the looseness than to impose more restrictions. And I've loosened up on my give-a-shit. So they do whatever and I don't care.

Of course that's not entirely true. I keep tabs on them, and give some direction. But since I've loosened up they seem to be more willing to do what I ask of them. Most of the time. Diva more than Sproing (OMG!!) because he's a pain in the ass.

I've been on edge today. Why? I dunno. Had my period last week, so it isn't premenstrual shit. Maybe it's that my home is stressful. Could be, eh? OMG, the week before my period was hell. I was so cranky, and realized it was hormonal. Poor Superman. I tried to stay out of the way of the kids as much as possible. I recognize when I'm unreasonable.

Hey, lets see what this dog of ours looks like.

 His name is Oreo. I don't like that name, particularly, but that's what Sproing likes. It was what he was called as a puppy, when we got him. It's a name, so whatever. As often as not I call him "pup."

 He's more or less adorable. And bigger now than he is in these pics. He's nearly 6 months old now. He had his balls chopped off earlier this week, and starts obedience class later today. He's pretty smart, and very puppy-like. Weighed 45 lbs on Wednesday when he had his surgery. He's got a lot of Labrador in him, and some pit bull, according to the kid who gave him to Sproing.

Oh look! It's Superman! I like this picture. He's a cutie. I don't notice it when I look at him, but in these pictures he looks older than I perceive him to be. 

 And check out our produce! While I was on my trip this pair of squash was harvested from our garden. I had to get a picture of it to share with you, since it looks so much like a scrotum. I mean, am I right?

How fun is this? We didn't eat it. They picked it when I was away, and by the time I got home it was far from fresh. Oh well.

So, let's talk briefly about this garden thing. We planted green beans, squash, zucchini, and tomatoes. Here's the thing: I don't like squash or zucchini. Besides which, the zucchini plant died from some kind of bug infestation. We've eaten some of the green beans, though I've thrown out more than we've eaten.  I've also used some of the tomatoes. There are green ones on the vine which I'll harvest at the proper time.

So we planted this garden with things I don't like. WTF? I dunno. And Superman is too busy with work and stuff around the house to cook up any of this stuff.

I'm quite tipsy. I've been depressed most of the day, and decided I'd do the beer thing tonight while watching Braves baseball. Didn't have the first beer until the 8th inning, when we were leading the Cardinals 4-1. That was the final score, btw. After the game I continued with the beer. I'm dizzy and feeling smooth, but the headache is there, too.

So. Depression. Superman went to Georgia today to visit his family. Good for him. I'm glad he gets to do that. I hate that he's away, though. Sometimes he takes one of the boys (Diva isn't welcome in his parents' house after beating me up a couple of years ago) but this time he went by himself. So everyone else is home. They all drive me crazy. Wait. This paragraph was supposed to be about depression. OK, so I has it, the depression thing. I hate summer. Maybe things will be better when the kids get back in school. Their first day is Aug. 20th. Less than a month away! I need me time with none of these pariahs at home.

Let's talk about parenting. I've given up, sort of. Diva and Sproing are 15.5 years old now. They are responsible for their own behavior. They do what they want. I leave them alone. That's not entirely true, of course. I just try to keep things together with the minimum effort. I can't do any more than that. They've broken me. I just don't give the kind of shit that I used to.

It's officially Saturday. It's my brother's birthday today. He's 49. Hee hee hee. I can't wait to tease him next year. I'm two years older than he is, so anything I say he's already said to me. That's not why I started talking about Saturday, though. I haven't even opened my computer since sometime last weekend. All week I've been either watching TV (which I rarely do) or reading from my Kindle. I've read I don't know how many gay romance novels/stories. I read a straight romance today. It was weird. The two main guy characters fell in love with women. WTF is up with that? It's time for another gay story, or else something of high quality. I have a collection of E. M. Forster works on the Kindle.  The novel I read today was not well written, so I need something of quality to wash out my brain.

I have another book, a paperback, that I started earlier in the week. It's entitled The Hoarding Handbook. It's written for social service providers who deal with hoarders. It isn't specifically for mental health professionals, rather it is written by mental health professionals for others who deal with hoarders. I have read the first three chapters. It's good, I guess, but hard to read because I see myself in it. I got it so I might be able to help myself a bit with getting rid of the crap I've hoarded. It's a slow process, especially since I keep distracting myself.

OK, I'm going to quit this rambling and get ready for bed. It's high time I went to sleep.

This just in... (sound of random beeps and clicks in the background)

From Sean (Breen Lantern) at Idle Eyes and a Dormy

Which Superhero Are You?
My results:
You are Superman

Superman 70% Spider-Man 70% Hulk 55% Robin 53% Iron Man 50% Catwoman 45% Green Lantern 35% Supergirl 33% The Flash 30% Wonder Woman 18% Batman 15%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

And here I thought I was only married to Superman. 

Saturday stuff

I got a couple of questions from my previous post about how the kids behaved while I was on my trip. According to Superman, they did pretty well. Figures. I leave, they straighten up. He isn't as strict as I am, so they don't fight against him as hard as they do against me, I think. And since I have been home they've done pretty well, all things considered. We haven't had any law enforcement officers involved in our business, at least.

I'll tell you a story about Sproing, though. Last week I took him to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) to take the test for his learner's permit. He took it, passed, and got his permit. All is well. He and his dad went driving a couple of times that day and the next. He was driving at 10:30 last Saturday night to pick up his sister from the skating rink, and got pulled over by a highway patrolman. He had been weaving in his lane, and the officer said he didn't come to a full stop at a stop sign. Superman says the stop sign thing was bogus, but Sproing was indeed weaving a bit. He's not used to sitting in the driver's seat, and it's a different perspective on the edge of the road. He was getting too close to the road's edge, and Superman reminded him to move toward the left a couple of times. The officer came up to the truck and looked at Sproing and his permit. Sproing is kinda small for his age. When he saw that Sproing had the learner's permit, he asked if Sproing was just learning to drive. Of course Sproing answered in the affirmative. The officer said "you have a lot to learn," gave the kid his permit back, and wrote out a warning ticket. All in all it was a good experience/lesson.

However, on Sunday of last week Sproing was acting all crazy. He was angry, arguing with us and throwing things around. He threw his learner's permit at me and stormed out of the room, only to come back a little while later to retrieve the card. Then he got a pair of scissors and cut his permit in half. WTF? Then, of course, threw those at me. So I have them, tucked away in a drawer. He isn't getting another chance, not for a long time.

Sproing discussed the incident a little bit on Monday. He said he wasn't going to be driving anymore, not any time soon. I agreed. He isn't quite mature enough to drive, obviously. One of the things he said when arguing with us on Saturday was that Dad kept commenting on his driving while they were out. Well, duh! No, he says, I don't comment on your driving when I am in the car with you! Which is a lie. He comments on our driving all the time. But he just can't accept constructive criticism, suggestions, or correction in anything that he does. Seriously. This is going to continue to be a problem throughout his life if he doesn't figure this out. And he cuts us off cold when we try to discuss it. Oh well.

Since the kids were pretty chill while I was away, I've tried not to get into their shit since I got home. I don't necessarily agree with this approach, but it's better for my blood pressure if I let it be. I dunno. Things are so far gone with these kids that it's probably too late to try the strict approach. Right now I'm just trying to not rock the boat.

The state agency that supervises Diva's social services is trying to drop her as a client. We had a meeting the day after I got home from points north. Did I tell you about that? Yeah, the ladies in charge said that she barely qualifies for services any more. We've put her case on hold for three months, after which we'll have another meeting. The thing with Diva, she can hold it together really well for a while, then some damn something will tip her over the edge. So yeah, right now she's great. I hope it stays this way.

The scab on the bite on my arm came off yesterday, two weeks after the bitch bit me. The wound isn't completely healed, though. I put a bandage on it after the scab came off, but have just removed it. There's going to be another scab forming, but it'll be a much smaller, thinner one. The scab on my finger is still there, though it is smaller now. That was quite a deep bite on the finger there. And the finger is still a bit sore to the touch.

My new DVD player came in yesterday's mail. We bought a cheap nasty one for the living room a while ago, but it broke, so we donated the one in our room to that cause and I began looking for a replacement. That was more challenging than I predicted. So I ended up ordering one from Amazon. It came yesterday. This afternoon Superman and I watched two chick flicks. He's a good sport. We watched "The Backup Plan" which neither of us had seen. It's cute, but quite simple. JLo, you know. The male lead is a fella named Alex O'Loughlin who I've never seen before. He's cute! After that movie was over I was in the mood to watch more sexy male romantic leads, so we watched my current go-to chick flick, "The Proposal" with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. >swoon< Ryan Reynolds is so drool-worthy! So Superman watched Sandra Bullock while I watched Ryan Reynolds, and we both enjoyed Betty White, because hey, what's not to enjoy?

Not a lot of deep philosophy in today's entry, huh? Eh, it's too hot to think too hard. I'm inside enjoying the air conditioning. We got a new A/C last spring, and it works so beautifully! So here I sit, rotting my brain and cooling my heels.