Thank You Note

Forty-eight hours and no one's dead yet. This is definitely an accomplishment.

On the other hand, I've been doing some reading on withdrawal from nicotine addiction, and now firmly believe that whoever thought of calling this first week off nicotine "Glory Week" seriously needs to be shot.

At any rate, as my mother always told me it was only polite to express one's thanks via written form:

Babs and AD, I'm going to look into Chantix. I know it's very easy to lapse (see my fine print), so I figure I need all the tools in my arsenal I can get. Actually, I'd heard of the new medication but could only remember it started with a "C", so the reminder was quite timely (and most appreciated)! Now I just have to get off my duff and call my GP, who said he'd prescribe it for me the moment I asked him to.

Bless that man.

Awesome Mom, thank you for your hopes that we make it through this without killing each other. We happen to share that hope, although there are doubts of the outcome at certain times. Currently Himself is voted most likely to be the victim of any capital crime, primarily because his method of dealing with stress is to be an outward ass. Mine is to be an inward bitch, which is much harder for him to catch.

Okay, I just read that to him and he says it's not hard for him to catch at all, so perhaps the stakes are somewhat more even than I'd thought.

Monkeygirl, I had to laugh at what you said. The office is currently trembling in fear. Well, they're trembling when they're not laughing behind my back as the withdrawal is making me incredibly ditzy. I have my moments of dopiness here in blogland, but at work I'm usually damn sharp. This week? Not so much.

Thanks for the waves of support -- I can definitely use 'em!

Maui, I've heard it can be like that (where a cigarette will smell good for a moment even decades after quitting). My father and mother quit over 30 years ago, and they still have that urge occasionally. I just need to get far enough along that I'm not seriously tempted to torch one up. Way to go for you on 25 years!

{{{{{Angel}}}}} Thank you! Just think, I won't have to sneak out of the restaurant when we finally have lunch to go fire one up :) And I don't know how hard the Lyrica withdrawal was. I remember reading about it in the backposts of your blog, and I think it's probably equally hard, just with different difficulties in different places. For me, it's both the nicotine addiction (which I'm helping with the gum) and the physical habit, like, "Gosh, I'm sitting at the computer... now where is that danged cancer stick anyway?"

Judy, I didn't know about your husband, and I'm so sorry to hear about it. Thank you for your support and for sharing what's going on in your life {{{{}}}}.

Felicity, thanks, and LOL on the "breaking up with your husband," part. It doesn't sound quite right, but I know exactly what you mean by it so it's all good.

Besides, it made me giggle and that's totally welcome at anytime, especially at this moment!

TZ, thanks for pulling for me! And here's hoping you and AD are right on this. I know my family history is bad, but who knows, I could have been dealt some incredible combination of genes that will make this all work out.

Even if not, I've still done some good. If not as much for me, but for my kids.

And fishwithoutbicycle, thank you for dropping by and the well-wishes!

All of you are very much appreciated. I'm going to find a pencil to gnaw now. One of my hugest fears is putting the weight I've lost back on.

On the plus side, I can always re-lose the weight. I hear it's a bit harder to recover from death.

Breaking Up

Oh so many layers upon layers of meaning in that title today. I swear I'm about to snap. But actually there's a very good reason for my "on the edge" feeling... good in both the "valid" and good as in the "positive life decision" aspects:

My husband and I quit smoking.

Last night we sat and sucked down all the cigarettes we had left in the house; we woke up this morning smoke-free. Oh happiness, joy and freedom!

Well, not quite the happiness yet.

I swear, it took me three pieces of Nicorette before I quit wanting to kill someone this morning. My husband, on the other hand, was subsisting on bubblegum and other munchies when I called to check on him around noon, and appeared to be doing fine. However, I did tell him that if he happened to be in a foul enough mood this evening I was going to pry open his jaws and forcibly feed him the Nicorette.

I got home around 6:40 p.m. He'd run out of munchies around 4:00.

There was no jaw-prying necessary because he snatched the packet out of my hand and practically crammed the entire thing, foil and all, into his mouth.

He's only slightly less homicidal right now.

I keep reaching for cigarettes that aren't there. Pa-THE-TIC!

What I'm not going to miss is the god-awful stench, the nicotine stains on my fingers, the funky "ate-up" feeling in my mouth, the breath, and the knowledge that each and every time I fire up, I'm definitely (not just possibly) knocking more time off my life.

My great-uncle died from emphysema. My grandfather died from early complications of lung cancer. My grandmother had COPD, and now so does my mother.

It's too late for me even now, in a sense. Looking at my genetics, I've likely already caused my lungs permanent damage. But at least by stopping now, hopefully it will stave off more damage.

That said, if someone handed me a cigarette right now? I'd look at it, feel disappointed in myself, and fire that sucker up.

Dammit.

Yep, breaking up is hard to do.

Blonde

My husband and I are watching Legally Blonde this afternoon, which led to the following conversation:

Me: Did you notice your wife is slowly going blonde?

Himself: Yeah, I did. And what's that all about anyway?

Me: Uhm... I'm having fun?

Himself: You do realize you lose 25 IQ points when you do that.

Me: Stealth intelligence, sweetheart. They'll never see me coming.

Grocery List

This conversation took place after several hours worth of disjointed "We really should get [insert item here]" notices by each of us, re: the grocery store.

Himself: We need eggs, too.

Me: Okay, when we stop by the grocery store on the way home from lunch tomorrow, you and I can both try to remember everything we need.

Himself: Somebody should write it all down.

Me: Yes, somebody should.

Himself: :looking pointedly in my direction:

Me: :looking pointedly at Himself: So, you're going to write it down, right?

Himself: Me?

Me: Yes, you.

Himself: Huh. I'm supposed to write it all down. Alrightie then.

(Somehow I suspect no one will write anything down, and we'll end up at the grocery store rattling our brains in the hopes that a relevant memory will somehow make its way down the chute...)

Perspectives

In case anyone's missed it, there is a great collaborative story about an automobile accident told from the perspectives of a law enforcement officer, a paramedic, and an ER nurse up on Matt G's blog, AD's blog, and Babs RN's blog.

Have a look. It was worth the wait.

What Would You Do?

Warning -- this is not my usual type of cheerful or humorously ranting post. Contains disturbing material. Read on at your own risk.

If one of your children sexually assaulted his two younger siblings, would you bring that child home pending his entrance into an alternative facility?

Well, down here in our fine area of the state, a mother was forced to do exactly that.

Dusty, the mother in the article, was told she could be arrested and charged with neglect if she failed to pick up her eldest son after his release from a juvenile facility. The judge said he didn't think she'd be charged, but he could make no promises and that CPS would become involved at a minimum if she failed to get her son.

Of course, they'll likely also become involved because she did pick him up.

Great.

So, let's see...

Don't pick up son who you personally believe to have raped his two younger brothers?

Potentially get charged with neglect.

Pick up son who you personally believe to have raped his two younger brothers?

Potentially get charged with failure to protect on behalf of the younger children.

Oh, and any attempts to confine the eldest child in his room pending his entrance into the alternate living facility could result in "false imprisonment" charges.

Leaving the younger kids with family members while their elder brother was in the home could potentially be construed as abandoment. Besides, these children did nothing wrong. Why should they have their lives uprooted for a brother who raped them?

Why is there nothing in place to keep an underage sexual offender out of the very home where he committed his crimes?

The only possible recourse I see for this mother is for her to keep her eldest son under constant surveillance, which would require multiple adults in the house, each taking a shift watching the boy so he wouldn't have an opportunity to repeat his crime. And even assuming she has those resources, that still leaves open the door for potentially exposing her younger children to a known danger.

Lest anyone think I'm overstating matters regarding this case, please remember I used to work in the system. Both law firms I worked for handled child dependency (CPS) cases. I will absolutely grant you that there are cases where the children are better off outside the family home, and in those instances relative or foster care is the only option.

But I have sat on the phone with case workers and have them lie to me regarding the firms' clients' activities. Why do I know the case workers were lying rather than the clients? Because these same caseworkers lied about not receiving the messages I left for them (which I logged in the case file each and every time).

The attorneys I have worked for have come back from court having gone through the same thing, and have watched the case workers backpedal when the call logs were brought out. I have had investigators for the state refuse to make proper requests through the clients' attorneys, continuing to badger the clients at home and at their place of employment.

That said, I have also witnessed parents regaining custody of their children after successfully defeating the problems they were facing that legitimately resulted in their children's removal. I have also seen children go from miserable situations into stable situations where they have thrived... only to be thrown back into the same unstable situation that resulted in their removal in the first place.

Sigh.

So if I sound sickened, disgusted, and depressed over these situations and this one in particular, it's because I am. CPS can do good, and in some cases does. In too many cases, though, it's a flat-out failure of the system.

As I've heard it said in so many places of late: I love my country, but I fear my government.

And CPS.

Vertigo Update

Remember the lovely case of vertigo I got back when I was driving up through Georgia? Well, it hit me again today.

Yuck.

Actually, looking back, it had come in yesterday and also had made its unwelcome appearance a couple of weeks ago as well. The latter event was back at Orientation for my elder son's third grade year. I hadn't had much sleep the night before, so I thought my lagginess was just due to being overtired, but when we turned around quickly in a hallway my vision narrowed down to a pinpoint until I got my bearings back. If I'd had more time to think I would have been a bit freaked out by it, but as I was trying to get through all the school hoopla and move myself toward work in a reasonable amount of time, I just shook it off and chalked it up to exhaustion. I think I survived Orientation okay, and I managed to make it through the day at work.

Yesterday I was also feeling crummy, but I blamed it on my being somewhat under the weather due to this stupid cold I can't shake. My head kept feeling weirder and weirder though... congested, but different from my standard sinus-y congestion.

I popped a Drixoral and went to bed after attending Open House at the elder's school.

Today, though... ugh. I just felt "off," yanno? And then finally it hit me... this was the same weird dizziness I felt when I was having the twenty-two day period from hell. I put that together with how I felt when I was trying to keep my bearings driving on tiny back roads in Georgia (I again apologize to that entire state for my horrendous driving that day)... and it clicked. It probably would have clicked sooner if I'd had to deal with heights or something, but I avoid those like the plague anymore and am greatly assisted in that endeavor by the fact that I live in a very flat state.

Anyway, the verdict? Same. Damned. Thing. Which my GP diagnosed as an inner ear thingie after the first event. That would explain the odd congested feeling.

Whew. I'm weirdly relieved, because that whole dizziness issue and panicking over embankments episode really freaked me out. Now I know it's definitely all in my head, but at least it's not a psychological issue. It's strictly physiological (okay, the anxiety is psychological, but at least there was an underlying cause for this particular event). I just have to get in a phone call to my GP and find out the name of the medication he recommended last time I was in (it's OTC... starts with an M, I think?) and I'll be set.

----------------------

On another note, while researching vertigo awhile back (I've come to the realization I've been having this off and on since late last fall) I found the website of an ENT which linked to his personal, primarily non-med blog, Balls and Walnuts.

Dude's a hoot, and apparently it's a very popular blog. Check it out!

AaaaCHOO!!

Can anyone tell me just why my cats insist on congregating in my bedroom at night when they have the run of the entire house?

Usually the wee beasties aren't permitted in the master bedroom. However, someone who shall not be named (koff... the spousal unit... koff) left the bedroom door open when he came to bed last night.

I woke up around 3:00 a.m. to see Miss Emily batting my toothbrush around in the sink, Daniel staring intently into the bathroom, and Patrick purring on my chest.

Remember those cat allergies I have? Yep. So of course Patrick picked the allergy-afflicted one as his bed.

I practically boiled my toothbrush this morning. I know exactly where Emmy's paws have been, and it ain't pretty.

Anyway, I managed to herd the cats out and was almost asleep again when my husband, for reasons known only to himself, decided to get up.

He went out of the bedroom and shut the door. I went back to sleep.

I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to three cats piled on top of me, and our bedroom door once again open.

Someone who isn't me may be sleeping on the couch tonight.

With all three cats.

Meet Amanda, TechnoGeek Extraordinaire

Well, regarding the title, not really... but I faked it well.

Our normal in-house IT guy is on vacation this week. Of course, this week was also when the digital recorders and accompanying software arrived.

Guess who got to do the install? Yep. Ms. IT-Degree-Dropout-who-Calls-Computer-Related-Parts-"Doohickies"-and-"Whatchamajiggers".

First, the DSS reader program didn't want to install fully. Then when I installed the recorders at the USB ports, the USB ports didn't want to recognize that they were even there.

Of course, once the computers saw the recorders were, yes, indeed there, did they want to recognize there was a test recording (made by yours truly) on them?

No, they did not.

However, many restarts later (many, many, MANY... numbering well into the double-digits), the system worked.

Now I just have to get the program and recorder installed in our remote office. THAT should be fun.

I think I might possibly call in our contracted emergency back-up IT guys on that one.

Addendum to Previous Post

Eventually, the elder offspring was able to focus enough to determine that Josh had 9 marbles total.

And I did not burst out and say, "Kid, he has 3 green and 6 red! Three plus six equals nine! Come ON!!!!" even though my brain was shrieking it. Because I know what it's like to have words and numbers flung together seemingly willy-nilly and have no clue what to do with the ungodly spawn thereof. For me, it created a disconnect between reading (fun) and math (dull) and probably screwed with left- and right-brain functions as well.

It's like learning to play the piano. First you learn how to use the right hand, then the left, then you put them both together. Musically, it was usually no biggie (although don't fling any of J. S. Bach's Inventions at me -- I am halfway convinced he was possessed when he put those nasty little compositions together), but for math it was quite another story.

I had a terrible time with math starting when I was around my elder son's age (8), and it continued until sometime between my sophomore and senior years in high school when it finally just clicked, that math is just another language. Learn the vocabulary, grammar, and mechanics, and yes, you too, can survive math class!

I don't know what sparked this transition for me. It could have been the consistent use of language in geometry in tenth grade that did it. It could have been the poor idiot student teacher in eleventh grade Algebra II, who couldn't teach let alone control a classroom to save her life who spurred me on out of a desire for GPA preservation. Or it could have been both of those plus my most awesome trigonometry/ analytical geometry teacher my senior year who finally made it gel.

Regardless, I survived, and survived to make A's in Calculus I and II on the college level as well.

The boy can do it. It just depends on the "click".

And on him managing to keep from flinging himself about in frustration long enough to pay attention. Oish.

(Note: He did apologize for being rude, lest anyone think I raised a total brat.)

Ah, Normalcy

I've finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, so life can get back to normal around here and on my blog. All I'll say is that it didn't end up being burned. Heh.

Yes, all you non-HP-fans can now breathe a sigh of relief (until the release-night recap).

Everything's pretty standard this evening. Shorter kidlet's in bed, and taller kidlet's grumping over his homework. So am I, for that matter. I remember word problems back when I was in school and how they boggled my mind. Apparently, it's genetic... the mind-boggling-ness of word problems, that is.

I don't know what it is about word problems. In early elementary we got used to 1 + 1 = 2, and even worked our way up to 345 + 987 = 1,332. But toss those numbers into a paragraph? Oy gevalt.

My elder son is painfully bright. I hear rumors that I, too, was bright, before I reproduced and my brains leaked out with the afterbirth. But one problem with bright kids is that they can be so freaking accustomed to getting everything in a snap, that when they encounter a hurdle? Zero coping skills. And I mean NONE.

I remember sitting with my father at the kitchen counter as he'd try and try to help me understand the problems. I'd grit my teeth and squinch my face up, "But I don't get it!!!!" He'd keep on explaining it to me patiently.

It's a wonder the poor man isn't bald.

Tonight? It's my turn to rip my hair out. Homework went something like this:

"Okay honey, if Bob gives Josh 6 red marbles and 3 green marbles, how many marbles does Josh have?"

Huffy breath, exasperated sigh, "I don't kkknnnnoooowwwww!!!!!!!"

"Honey, let's look at the problem. Okay, what is the main idea of what this is saying?"

Leg flail, wiggle, roll eyes back in head, tooth grindage (that last one was me), "I don't knnnoooowwwww!!!!!"

"Okay, stop. Look at the paper. Look at it. Now. Read. The. Problem. To. Me."

"Uh!!!" After another leg flail and mumble, finally he grits out the sentence.

"So, what do you need to find out?"

"Grimblemurffle."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't understand you."

"How many marbles does Josh have!!!!"

"Son you will use your polite voice with me or I will let you finish this by yourself." Enter the Mom Look of Impending Doom. "Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. And you're right. The problem asks how many marbles Josh has. Now, how would you figure that out?"

Huff, puff, "I don't knowwwwww!!!!!"

*headdesk*

This Comment NOT Spoiler-Free

This is a spoiler warning. Not here on the main page, but I warned about possible spoilage in the comments (see below). First comments contain possible spoilers. DO NOT CLICK on comments if you don't want to be spoiled!

HP 7 Page 606

Best Moment EVER.

That's all I'm saying. Stupid teary eyes.

Quote from HP 7

I'm really trying to be good about no spoilers, so see the first comment if you want to see the quote. I don't *think* it's a spoiler, but I do want to be careful in case anyone feels it is...

More Potter, Still No Spoilers

No, I'm not going to do spoilers on this book.

On that topic, I can understand why so many people wanted to know what was going to happen in Book Seven. I can understand why copies of it started to appear on the web. What annoys me to no end is that people were then posting those spoilers to the Harry Potter for Grown Ups (HPfGU) Yahoo! Group and other places where those who, maybe, perhaps, didn't want freaking spoilers could be startled by them.

I admit, I'm a sucker for turning to the back of a book -- and no, I haven't done it yet -- but that's MY choice. When an individual opts to deliberately post the outcome of a book on a public group with a deceptively innocent topic, though, that's just plain mean. The HPfGU list had to close early due to that type of posting; I'm glad they had the foresight to do so and thank the List Elves for taking the burden upon themselves to moderate and make that determination.

And regardless of whether or not my readers give a rat's ass about Harry Potter, I'm not going to talk about the specifics of the book in the main topics at this time. I might do a post where the comments permit spoilers (since I can't do a "cut" to save my life) but seriously... spoilage reeks, in more ways than one.

That said...

Oh dude, this book rocks so far. I'm at page 389, and it's totally making up for the misery that was Book 6. And as long as JKR lets Ron, Hermione and Harry live (and the Weasleys because, well... just because), I'll be totally happy.

Of course, I might be happy regardless of how she ends it. It all depends on how it comes out in the wash, so to speak.

Back to reading again. Yes, I'm blogging about reading. I'm a nerd -- y'all already knew that. ;)

HP 7... GACK! (no spoilers)

I now have Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in my greedy grasp, and am on page 132.

Very interesting. I'm yelling at JKR due to certain things in the book thus far, but... very interesting.

AND... I haven't skipped to the end to see how it turns out, which is somewhat amazing for me. Here's hoping I can continue on and be surprised.

Jut a thought... don't read the chapter titles, and don't read the opening quotations. Just start at Chapter One.

And Chapter Two is really quite cool.

Angel and I had a great time at the release. We both had our elder children with us, and her brother-in-law also came along and laughed his ass off at the two of us together.

A video was filmed of both of us babbling. I have suspicions it will be aired. Be warned, I scratch my face at one point and near the end it's totally obvious I'm chewing gum.

Okay, that's all. Back to reading.

Potter-Mania

Angel and I will be meeting up tomorrow night at our local Books-A-Million's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows release party.

Yes, we're 37 and we're totally into this. Angel mentioned something about finding her wizard hat. Me? Eh, my crazy hat is Christmas-oriented, but if pushed I'm sure I can find something suitably embarassing as my eight-year-old is accompanying me.

I'm over halfway through my re-read of Half Blood Prince now. I may or may not finish it before tomorrow night's release. Not sure if I'll go back and finish it first or just hang it all and dive into Book 7.

Probably the latter. Heh.

Anyway, a report will be issued following the event. There will be a camera present (mine) and I intend on photographing the madness.

And if Angel agrees, I might even get a pic of the two of us goofs at the shindig. Shoot, if suitably inspired I might even blog the insanity via laptop.

We'll see.

:Cackle:

One Year Blogoversary

I'm never quite sure how to spell the one-year celebration of one's blog. Blogoversary? Blogiversary? I like the former, but I've seen folks say the latter is the more correct option.

Oh well, my blog, my spelling. I don't think Webster's has added the word yet so I'm free to mis/spell it as I please. Not that that stops me anyway... I can typo and not catch it for MONTHS. I've gone back to ancient posts and corrected stuff in them that I've just found.

Self-editing is a bitch.

Yeah, I know, English major, former teacher, etc., I should do better. And I try (although I don't always run spellcheck, sometimes to my detriment), but here I'm just relaxing, not worrying about a term paper or official correspondence. Also, you'll notice I don't go around correcting other folks' grammar, mechanics, and spelling. That's because I know I'm perfectly capable of slaughtering the English language myself. Additionally, I often deliberately use sentence fragments and questionable punctuation for general literary effect; so again, just not hopping on the Grammar Police train.

I write this blog the way I talk. Yes, at 37 I still say "Dude" in certain circles with certain friends. "Bite me," is also a part of my lexicon.

Of course, then I use words like "lexicon." Eyeroll.

:Ahem:

So anyway, Happy Blogoversary to me!

A year ago at this time I was finally getting out of the legal field, and I started this blog in part to just put my thoughts in order. Apparently I did that fairly swiftly, and my poor blog languished for a few months, but then I started posting again, more and more frequently.

I can't say I've changed a great deal over the past year except for the fact that I no longer lose sleep over clients. I lose it over personal stuff, but at least it's MY stuff, yanno?

And it wasn't like any lost sleep due to clients counted as billable hours or anything. That might have reconciled me to it somewhat.

I can see the invoice now:

2.1 hours, Nasty Family Law Case, Para (not that I was a certified paralegal, but that's how I was billed), Couldn't Sleep Due to Upcoming Hearing, and Worry that her Boss Might Lose his Freaking Mind Between Now and Then, or Failing That, That the Client Will do [insert stupid action here] before the Judge can Issue a Ruling.

Yeah, that would have had the billing department (all one of her) on my ass in a heartbeat. The solo practitioner I worked with immediately prior to leaving the legal field would have laughed her ass off at it, but again, unlikely that it would make the official bill.

Life is much more peaceful now.

I've also learned in the last year that Stinky Birkenstocks are a topic of many Google searches. Yes, that post would be my most popular Google search, the whole medical blogger thingie notwithstanding.

In the last year I've lost 40 pounds.

In the last year Angel and I re-made contact.

In the last year I lost my beloved dog to old age.

In the last year, I opened my home to three cats.

And in the last year I've run into many interesting blogs, and met some great folks. I'm glad y'all are around.

It's been an interesting year. Here's to Year 2 :)

An Open Letter to my Publix Bag Boy

Dude,

Please do not put the heavy cardboard boxes of frozen Lean Cuisines on top of my freaking produce.

That is all. Thank you.

Resignedly,
Amanda

Revised Miranda Warning

From Kim Harrison's For a Few Demons More:

You have the right to remain silent, but I doubt you will. You have the right to an attorney, which I imagine [your assistant] will be calling soon. If you can't afford one, hell has frozen over and I'm the princess of Oz, but in that case, one will be appointed to you. You understand your rights that the entire congregation of Cincy's finest has heard me recite?

God, if only our fine brothers and sisters in blue (or grey, or green, or brown) could use that on the job!