Super Nerd Alert

So, I have a confession to make:  I am a super nerd.

Not a COOL nerd, like the Doctor Who/ComiCon/Steampunk nerds*, but a nerdy-nerd with a nerd wish:

I really want to collect stamps.

For real.

I think it would be so fun, and relaxing and filled with tiny things for gluing and lots of boxes to check off.

(Just thinking about the possibility makes me happy)

BUT---

Have you met my children?  The Destroyers?

We call him Hulk.  Because of the smashing.

So, until I can have nice things (never) I do Postcrossing.  (Do you Postcross?)  Basically, it is a free website where you sign up and are assigned to send and receive postcards from around the world.  I send about 6 a month (because international postage is pricey) and I receive that many a month.  Just some happy mail to make me happy.  I buy tourist cards at gas stations and grocery stores and, a few years back, bought a grab bag of art cards from Pomegranate.  (Because some people are PICKY as to what type of cards they prefer to receive.)

It is ALMOST as fun as I think philately would be. (The other day I got a postcard from Crimea--that's where Landen Park-Laine lost his leg!*)

*I wish I was that cool of a nerd
**I am also a book nerd. 

The Saddest Jedi in the World

I am still here. You were prally wracked with wondering, I know.

It is way harder to have two kids than one.

Beyond that, I have so many posts to write. Posts about my thoughts and feelings and all of these things that have been going on in my life. Posts about how I don't like some things that other people like, and posts about how awesome you guys are.

I want to talk about all of the things that I love about my life. And how I have great family. And how we found our yearly scorpions.

Oh, and I want to tell you about Tamales. And Queso. And how I can eat carbs again, but I don't really want them as much. And how Jooj starts kindergarten in three weeks and how I desperately need it to be three weeks from today this very minute.

And the boy! The boy! I have so much to tell you, like he is smiling now, unless he is sleeping. And he has got some memorable intestinal fortitude. And he adores his big sister (who just informed me "But I'm the big sister! I can't get into trouble!")

I also want to tell you to download Mindy Gledhill's new album, because it makes 105 degrees feel a little cooler. And tell you that you should be watching The Good Guys.

And I wanted to write all about how I am so, so tired. And I have been offending people because I am so tired that I don't have appropriate word control. And I am really sorry about that.

But I more than likely won't write those posts. Because it is way harder to have two kids than one.

I am thinking of writing them, though. And isn't it the thought that counts?




Also, my kid fits into the outfits at Build a Bear.

My Grocery List + Gratuitous Baby Pic

onions
hummus
OJ
Oreo pie crust
milk(not that kind.)



Also, your moment of zen.


PS: Who wants to get together for a meet up in P-Town next Monday?

Words No Working Good From Mouth

8-10 weeks to go. And this body is ready.
I know, it only gets more crowded and painful from here, but don't point that out. I will cry.

Because I cry at everything:
Family does not love me.
Family loves me more than I deserve.
Jooj is sassy.
Jooj is sweet.
Plants are growing.
Plants are dying.
Too much to do.
Not enough time to do it.
Too much time left.

So I haven't posted much. Because I am crying and growing and aching and limping and HOLY CRAP my chaunch hurts. Because I forgot I was seven months pregnant and jumped out and pushed our broken down ex-car. And sprained my labia or some other part. The cloiterous? All I know is it hurts to move.

Also it is springtime in El Paso which means I have a precious few weeks to get things done before it turns from a balmy 85 degrees to a horrifying 105. My family is shivering because I already have the air up full blast. So I haven't posted much because I am gardening and cleaning and canning and sewing and HOLY CRAP I forgot I need to start getting some freezer meals ready so we can eat when the baby comes.

And Jooj is beyond ready for kindergarten, but we have three more months until then, so I am desperately trying to keep her entertained, but we are without a car this month. Because W got into an accident and our car is being held hostage until we can pay to get it out of the shop because the OTHER car broke down and we had to pay to fix that one because he has to get to work. And we only had emergency savings for ONE broken car. Because, really, we try to be optimistic even though we should know better by now. And after paying for to fix the Focus it still was broken so we broke down ourselves and got a new (used) car. So I haven't posted because I am working with Jooj on not leaving the house and reading and spelling and piano and crafting and not killing the dog and not throwing fits and HOLY CRAP she is cleaning the floor with her toothbrush because she saw it on Clean House.

In other news, I had a dream that we named the baby Firstus McWhorter.

Meh

Nothing to say, so much, but feel the need to get a post in before the internet shuts down from the sheer glee of a new post by Nie!

Anyway, things are good at the North Mexican home of us. (Yikes, that was a horrible sentence!)

I am going through the seed catalogs, trying to decide what I will kill this summer.

I am making a new blanket for Project Linus.

I am eating Choco Monkey Muffins

I am basking in the total awesomeness of Gossip Girl

I am listening to Jooj speak Spanish (Kink Kink! Oink Oink! Kunta Kinte!) (I swear she says "Kunta Kinte." And we haven't even watched Roots, yet. Must be something to that Jung and his collective memory...)

I am feeling like three more months without W might as well be thirty-three more months

I am deciding I don't need periods at the end of a sentence

And there you have it--and if this doesn't make you long for a Nie post, your bar is much lower than mine

PS: Bid on some stuff and go to a concert.

PPS: I know that this is lame. But leave a comment anyways, because I have low self-esteem today. Prally from watching Gossip Girl and comparing the relative boniness of my clavicle vs. Little J's.

Support the Troop's Wife

For my Christmas gift this year, I want to you tell me one (or more) of the things that make you great. Serious things--none of this "I am excellent at ignoring my housework" or "I beat my child better than anyone around." No back-handed compliments this time. Unlurk yourself.

I'll start:

I am really, truly good at serving others. I just am. Even when I don't want to, even when I wish I wasn't doing it, I serve others. And I am good at it.

Your turn.

One more thing...

I am also thankful that I am not a slut.

No particular reason, just thankful.

Deal Breakers

What are your deal breakers? The things that, no excuses, would make you throw in the towel? Here are some of mine:

If my therapist takes a phone call in the middle of my intake for severe clinical depression and talks to his tennis partner for fifteen minutes, I leave.

If people tell me what I believe or who I hate, I leave (at least mentally, if I can't do it physically).

Staying awake for more than 20 hours. Can't do it. Not to win a million dollars, even. Complete deal breaker.

The Twilight series. Don't ask me to be involved. It will be a deal breaker.

Hearing about someone's "Mucus Plug." Deal breaker. Sorry. (Unless it is a sweet band you are in, called Mucus Plug. I can do that.)

Any situation involving the phrase "My Bad." I immediately want to punch you in the throat.

Asking me to take sides between my parents or other family (or Ecktons.) You are going to lose, and there will be no deal.

Spumoni ice cream (not only a deal breaker, but almost a table-thrower-over). I would leave a free dinner if I had to eat Spumoni.

Share Wheat, Not Winchesters

I am sick. It may be lethal, only time will tell. So I can't blog too much.

But I have been thinking, as the markets plummet (I lost $20!) and everyone starts freaking out about loading up the Model T and driving to Califor-ni-A where you can just pick an orange off of a tree, about food storage.

I have a friend who firmly believes that weaponry is an essential part of food storage. Because the mobs may attack you for your wheat. The other day she was admiring another family's massive collection of water bottles and fruit snacks and Hellman's and said "Don't let the neighbors know about your food storage!!"

I do not agree with this.

If someone comes to my house, knocks on the door, and says "my babies are starving" I am going to crack open an MRE and share with them. Done deal. The oil in the lamps is a metaphor for testimony and a life-well-lived--literally unable to be shared among friends. Rice-a-roni and freeze-dried carrots CAN be shared, just like the ants did with the grasshopper in the Disney version.

I was trying to envision a situation when I would feel comfortable stockpiling arms and defending my home and family from marauding hordes, and the only thing I came up with was: zombie attacks.

But, as W pointed out, a) there are not likely to be zombies in the last days and, 2) to truly render a zombie ineffective you have to decapitate it and remove the brain. Guns are not really helpful against zombies.

The Thing With Feathers

I recently had a conversation with a family member who was saddened by this post, wherein I proclaimed my ambivalence about having more kids, or not having more kids. She thought, on the whole, that my blog was sarcastic and bitter, and it worried her. It especially worried her that I seemed decided against any more children. I set her straight.

But it has been eating away at me ever since our conversation--this idea that my tone is sarcastic and bitter and that readers may think of me as a sarcastic and bitter person who doesn't want the one she has, let alone more kids.

My humor tends to be dry, and I do use a lot of self-deprecation, but I don't view myself as particularly sarcastic. Maybe I use a lot of sarcasm, especially since the deployment, but I don't think that it is a particularly defining facet of my character as a whole.

And bitterness? I think that I am one of the least bitter people I know. I roll with the punches. I may complain for a minute or two, but then I get over it and adapt. I don't often take public political sides, and I try my hardest to wish others well, even when I am teeming with jealousy. I think that I am pretty good at expressing gratitude and love and serving other people, but maybe that doesn't come through so much on the blog.

The best and worst thing with a blog is that everyone can read it. I love reading comments--many times the little affirmations are the only contact I have with a grown-up all week, and I have made so many friends over this crazy little universe. But there is always the threat that someone will be hurt, offended, or misunderstand my intentions, words, or tone. And, at my core, I absolutely hate confrontation. (As a side note, thanks, Secret Clinical Strength, for getting me through the day!) Like many journaling bloggers, I often think about suspending my blog, or eliminating it entirely, but return because I remember how much I enjoy the opinions, snippets, and secrets that I can observe from the postings of others.

Getting back to the family comment--I want to explain my feelings from that post, wherein I talked about things that I just can't summon the energy to care for. By saying that I have no opinions about more children or less children or adopting of fertility or stealing a Romanian baby I am saying just that--I don't have the energy to make those dreams or goals a major part of my day. In a perfect world I would have a house filled to the brim with little Joojes and Yuniors. I would have all of the working parts, or a medical care system that would allow for broken parts to be fixed. Or adoption would not be cost prohibitive and time-consuming and heart-breaking. When I said that I didn't have the energy for these aspirations, it is not because I spend so much time playing games or because I am so busy with my career or because I am currently over-scheduled because of my attempts to make a dalmatian-skin coat. It is because the thing in my life that takes more energy than anything--more than Jooj and her repeated watchings of Da Wuss y Da Peet, more than the back and forth to the post office to mail packages to W, more than cleaning and cooking and yardwork and callings and sewing and laundry and looking for my wedding ring--is hope. It is just too hard to hope.

And that is why. No bitterness, no sarcasm, just honesty.

In all reality, we will probably put in for adoption again. I am going through more fertility stuff as we speak. But the quest for enlarging our family has ceased to be even a tenth of my daily thought. Because I can't get myself to have enough energy to hope and dream, to imagine scenarios and write birth-mother introduction letters, to pick out names and rearrange furniture just in case. I love my kid with a passion I never expected, and I have gotten to the point where if she is the only one, I am okay with that. And if there are more, I am okay with that, too. Just along for the ride.

So there you go.

Attention Dirty Hippies at the Wild Oats:

Carob does not taste like chocolate. Please stop trying to tell the world it does.
Thank you,
La Yen

ps: your deodorant rock does not work that well, either.

Taking A Stand

So Jooj and I went to the early voting place at the local strip mall, and I voted for a candidate, and not much else. And I thought about how I was, essentially, choosing the least douchey of three douchebags.

And then I thought about how, in the olden days, people (not necessarily me) had opinions that mattered to them. They protested and sat-in, and all sorts of things like that. My biggest issue, these days, is getting ticked off when it is so windy that the satellite gets knocked out right in the middle of Passions. (Theresa just got eaten by a shark! And the demon midget elf is back to cause mischief!)
And then I thought, I should let my voice be heard. I should speak out for things that I believe in, and should be not afraid to make my opinions known.

1. Con: If you have bunions do not get a tatoo on your toe. It makes us all have to look at your bunions.

2. Pro: I won some Dropps cleaning products and love them. They are the greatest thing ever made for my washing machine.

3. Con: You should not lock your kids out of the house and refuse to let them back in. Kick them outside to play, by all means. But don't deny them entry. Home is a place of refuge where we are always welcome. By the same token, none of this "Okay, if you are not coming, I will leave you..." at the store nonsense. Kids should never ever have to worry, even for a second, that their folks are going to leave them. Sorry to disagree.

4. Pro: Parsnips. Delicious.

5. Con: labeling the Easter peanut butter eggs from Reeses as "Reester Eggs." Because I want a little more gonorrhea with my chocolate.

6: Pro: Legal immigration. Come on in, pay some taxes, follow the rules, buy our stuff.

7. Cons: Socialized health care. I spent this weekend in the ER for 10 hours. I can't believe that people who think that there should be government-given health care for all have ever been to the ER for any amount of time on a weekend. It is the most horrible, ridiculous place ever. And if more people have socialized medicine, more people will be waiting for a flu shot at 3 am.

8. Pro: Dr Who.

9. Con: Dr Scholl's commercials where they repeat "I'm Gellin."

Are you fer it, or agin it? Let me know!

Resolute

So, just a heads up, W got extended, and is here until next week. So I am good and happy and still able to take naps.

Here are my resolutions thus far:

1. Eat more Peanut Buster Parfaits

Back to Civilization--well, The EP, anyways.

We have been gone for a little over two weeks, allowing W to say goodbye to family and friends before he heads out for the other desert.
Lots of details to follow, but just wanted to let you know that Jooj is a complete demon. And I am detoxing her from candy. Which makes her even more pleasant.
Stay tuned for:
The Halloween Pimp Miracle
Our Brush with Fame
Queen of the Carousel
Venezuela Is for Lovers
Bradley Whitford at the Best Buy

Update #2

In case you were wondering how my spam box was doing, I just received this from everyone's best friend, Jingtao Schrader. (You remember Jingtao Schrader--from band camp?)

Wats up La Yen holy (poopy)! can you even (potty) out of that thing? Jingtao Schrader.

I don't get it--do we want to have the biggest anaconda or a functioning prostate? Can we not have both? How can we decide? It is like Sophie's Choice, I say. Or Back to the Future. Do I pretend to be all into my mother so my father will get angry and get over his fear of Biff? Or do I just play with Otis Redding?

Update

From this post.

Apparently both George and James can help "turn the gardener snake in your pants into a python."

Thank heavens.

Because I have been really concerned about my reptilian situation.

What it must be like to be a dude

My email address has my husband's first name in it. So spammers think I am a guy, I guess. Even though the first name is followed by the word "wife." This is what is in my bulk box today:

"Step up with the big boys and give her a big toy to play with"

"Hitler Youth Northern Jersey Buttons"

"Regards! I always wanted a bigger schlong"

"Take the Manster challenge. In a few months you'll notice results."

So, what I am learning is that being a man involves the following:

1. Obsession with a pulsating tumescence (I got that phrase from my grandmother's Harlequins. Don't you love it!?)

2. Nazi apparel (Dear Spammers: Mi Esposo es Cubano. No es Anglo. Los Aryans no lo quieren.)

So if you were looking to become a dude, these would be the things that you would need to master. I will let you know if there are any more qualifications. (Stew--is it more complex than this?)

10 Things You Might Not Know About Me

1. I hate mangoes and cantaloupes
2. I yell at Jooj's baby shows ("What were you thinking, Clarabelle Cow, when you PLANTED sleeping roses? OF COURSE someone is going to smell them and fall asleep for 100 years!" or "Shut your pie hole, Zoe Monster!")
3. We observe the siesta at my house, because at noon it is too hot to do anything else
4. Even though the party line is I want a house-full of kids, I am pretty much over the one I have and the thought of more makes me throw up in my mouth
5. I am perfectly happy to spend two hours making W a gourmet dinner and then forgo the entree in place of bread and jam
6. I have a phone-phobia and hardly ever answer
7. Yesterday the mail man introduced me to his trainee as "one of his favorite customers"
8. I told the bishop that we would donate a new pinewood derby track to the ward if I could get, in writing, an assurance that W would never be a scoutmaster in our ward
9. Even though I have two degrees that I never use I think about going back to college every day
10. I currently have 2 library books that were due on April 14, but I can't get the ambition to drive down and turn them in because I am sure that the day after I do they will start their amnesty period.