Putting the "Manic" in "Manic Depression"

Alternate title: The North Pole of Bipolar.

So the thing is that me manic and depressed mostly shows itself through a lot of teeth-grinding and insomnia and no will to do actual housework or whatever, but me manic and not depressed can be pretty awesome. Last night I did not sleep at. All. At five thirty this morning I finally put my head to the pillow and slept badly for about an hour and a half. At seven my alarm went off. Black Friday, and to work for a wench like me! I got Leila dressed and ready (she looks ubercute in cuffed jeans and a polka dotted top) and then I got dressed superduper fast and pulled my hair back and whizzed out the door and zinged into the car and jumped out at the mall, grabbed my coffee, and didn't look back.
I had a $2,000 sale before ten thirty, including FOUR cashmere sweaters. I banged out the rest of my shift and then ran over to Lord & Taylor to tackle their amazing sale. I spent sixty dollars and got two shirts for Leila, a "Belle" of Beauty and the Beast doll (for Leila, her first dolly of that type. She thought it was super neato for about two seconds.) and an outfit for each of my three nieces, plus two awesome kits with wooden beads for bracelet making for them to take home and torment their mother with. (I always give them craft related gifts and clothes. It's a thing.)Some of the pieces ended up being priced as low as pants for $3.74. It was awesome. I tried on a corduroy skirt for me that was an unbelievable price, but it was too tight, and even period bloat could not excuse how awful it looked. Also tried on a DKNY tee that was TEN BUCKS and it was cute and all, but a bit tight, and truth be told, I'd rather put ten bucks towards my kid anyway.
I have been REALLY GOOD about saving my money and I had to give the girls good-bye gifts, so I don't feel guilty.
I then went to Gap and I do feel a little guilty about the stuff I bought there. But I needed another present and then they had these really cute tees on sale! I got a super soft henley for $16.97, and two tees for Leila for $6.97, plus an adorable dress for the youngest niece for $7.97. Two pair of over the knee socks for my sister in law who loves socks pushed me to fifty bucks. $110 and a whole mess o' goodies later, I am still riding high.
I walked to the bus stop and all over creation because the MetroBus dropped me off in some random-ass spot on the side of 29. I feel like a million bucks. I need to go grocery shopping, but I'll settle for the laundry and a general clean-up.

However.
God help us all, if I don't get sleep tonight.

Leila-ism of the day: "Mommy, turn on the light. Thank you, Mommy, for light. Thank you, Allah, for light."

The Worst (or least dependable) Blogger Ever.

My friend France: "You must really be in a funk. You never write in your blog anymore."
The voice in my guilty, guilty head: "You are not blogging. You are not using a god-given talent. Instead you are scrolling through endless nasty gossip sites about celebrities who don't matter to you and movies you'll never see. YOU NEVER FOLLOW THROUGH WITH ANYTHING BAAAAAAAH!!"
Other voice in head: "Waaaaah I never follow through with anyyyyythiiiiiiiiiing. I'm such a bad peeeeeersssssssoooooooon." (sob)

So. Okay. Hi. Trying this thing one more time. At least.

On my list of things to actually follow through with, as facilitated by friends and cheerleaders:
1) Driving lessons. Important. Must. learn. to. drive.
2) Saving money. Checking account should not dwindle down to double digits.
3) Healthy eating, helped along by:
4) Meal planning, and,
5) Grocery shopping! (Husband should not have to eat grilled cheese for dinner more than once in a blue moon when wife likes to cook. Is a good cook. Also a lazy biatch.)
6) Consistent mental health care. Taking meds. Seeing therapist. Very important! (Did you know I'm "bipolar"? They say I am. I can see it.)
7) Consistent general health care, including regular exercise of some sort. I know, I know. I always say that. But I mean it this time! Also, walking to the bus stop does not count! I mean, it counts, but not as the only exercise of the whole day. Especially since soon I will not be walking because remember? I am Getting My License.
8) Standing up for myself on the job. I am only working certain hours, or I am finding another damn job. Period, people. Seriously. Do I look like a doormat? I must. But I am determined to erase that "Welcome!" from my forehead!

Lately I've spent a lot of time thinking about the things I've done wrong in my marriage/with my child. One of the things I feel truly terrible about happened a lot at the beginning of our marriage: people would invite us over, mainly extended relatives of my in-laws, and we would not go. I would always whine and give a lot of excuses--I don't speak Bengali, too many people will be there, I have social anxiety, I don't feel good, etc, etc. My husband's aunts and uncles are all extremely nice. They have been so sweet to me from the very first time we met. Now I am hellbent on accepting every invitation I can, and today we had three separate Thanksgiving dinners, one of which was cooked specifically because I mentioned that I was sad that I wasn't going to get to cook this year. Can you believe the utter awesomeness of that? She even had pumpkin pie and twice baked mashed potatoes--and the woman had never cooked a turkey dinner in her life!
It made up for the fact that her mother asked me why I have gotten so fat and then told my husband to stop feeding me. Three times.
I wanted to explain to her the intricacies of Depakote, but somehow, I don't think there is a good translation for "My crazy meds make me fat and cranky."

Right Now

My child is eating her weight in grapes, and I am trying to commit to writing every day. Even though I go back to work next week. Oh yeah, I spent some time away. But I'm back, ladies. Filling your brains with sheer fluff, one post at a time.

A Royal Wreck

So this morning at about five Leila woke up and started talking to me. That usually does not happen. In the morning she usually just repeats, "LaLa doodoo," in a tiny pathetic voice until I get up and give her a bottle.
(Dood is milk in bengali.) I got her a bottle and she just kept chitchatting and then she SAT UP and I was like, "Oh, no, we are NOT getting up this early."
And then she threw up all over me.
Feroze mercifully stayed home until about ten so I got another hour of sleep. Less than an hour after I left, she barfed all over our second set of bedding. However, being SmartMom, I had washed the first set and took it out of the dryer all warm and cuddly. Right now she is snuggled down into it and I am tempted to join her.
I've been naughty. I haven't been blogging, I've been eating a lot of junk, I've been lazy about my walking because something is wrong with me and my calves and feet hurt really extra super bad. The house has gone to hell and I've been eating out constantly because dinner is just too much to deal with.
In short, I am majorly depressed.
I go to the psychiatrist on Tuesday--wish me luck. Things have got to change.

She's baaaaaaaaaa-aaaack!

Sorry guys, I never meant to be gone for long, but somehow my vacation week stretched into two.
It was hella hot in Arkinsaw but it is EXTRA hot here--and true to its nature, our car has lost its air. There is nothing more awful than driving around on the first truly hot day of the year with no air conditioning. I was soaked in sweat and so sick to my stomach I thought I would die.
I know I sound like a wimp, but I come from a family that does not deal well with heat. My brother ended up in the ER severely dehydrated every year that he played sports, as did my mom. I usually got off with just a migraine or barfing. We also sunburn to blistering within an hour of un-sunscreened exposure. It's pretty yucky.
All in all, I think I got pretty screwed genetically. I'm predisposed to depression and anxiety, I have the same issues with my girly parts as my mother and grandmother did, I get migraines just like both of them, and though both of my parents are great at sports, I suck, and my brother got both all the good looks and the athletic talent.
HATE!
So today it was a-frikkin-hundred degrees here. I was sweating everywhere two seconds after I walked out of the house. Then I tripped over my concrete stairs, went down like a ton of bricks, had to go back in and band-aid myself...by the time I actually got to the bus stop, damp and irritable, I wanted to cry.
Nothing sucks more than coming back to the reality of your daily life after a vacation.
At least I have my adoring public...~snerk~

T-Minus 48 hours...

I am supposed to be Doing Things right now, namely cleaning and packing and also getting ready for work, where I would be handing in my resignation if this wasn't my last day for the next two weeks. Between resignations, family emergencies, vacations, and understaffing, Jennifer and I have taken a beating in the last few weeks. Understandably we were a bit testy with each other yesterday. Our "help" from another store ended up being not much more than warm bodies. I actually feel a bit guilty this morning that I am going on vacation and she is not...of course, I have been without a vacation for the past year and she has only been at my store for three months, but it's been three months without a chunk of time off. And that gets old, fast.
I should also be updating my food journal, and I should clean the bathroom as well. I have to leave for work in three short hours.
I have a headache the size of Montana.
Leila and I fly out at 6:10 AM on Wednesday to see my family and friends in Arkansas. I am crazy excited. I'll see my friend Liv, from high school, who lives on the other side of the country, and I will attend her sister's bridal shower, which seems so strange and surreal. They both adore kids in a not-irritating way, (you know what I mean, all, "wook at da wittle CUTIE PIE,") they're very matter-of-fact and talk to kids like, you know, little humans. Which they are. Anyway, they are dying to meet Leila and I, of course, am dying to show her off. She is the cutest and smartest baby ever, you know.
I guess I should stop calling her a baby. She'll be two in a month and she's crazy advanced. Her sentences are a little backwards and muddled, but she's bilingual, so that's normal.
I had the Worst Mother's Day Ever, which was really bad when you consider it coming on the heels of the Worst Birthday Ever, just over a month ago. Feroze and I had a huge fight in the morning and thus all of our plans were spoiled for the rest of the day. We just went through the motions, basically. Then on Sunday I had to work all day, and it was crazy busy. I mean CRAZY. Then in the car on the way home I burst into tears and yelled at Feroze until he decided that the only way he could prove his love to me was to drive down to Alexandria and get me kabobs from Kabob Palace. I was starving and drained, and the little place was stuffed to the gills with people, so we drove BACK home with our food, listening to "The Big Show" on NPR just like we did last year.
I had a hard time falling and staying asleep--it has been almost two weeks since I last had a good night's sleep--and this morning I have a huge headache and it is a rainy Monday and I just know that it will be dead at work tonight, but that's okay. I will bring tons of new merchandise onto the floor and help rework the sale section so that Jamie doesn't freaking die when she comes back from Puerto Rico and sees the store looking like a hot mess.
This may be my last update for a bit, but rest assured that I'll be back before June arrives with sweltering DC heat.

Something's Afoot!

Over at The Shrinker one of my girlfriends is recording her struggle battle with weight loss. She and I have been discussing co-blogging through a weight loss plan and fitness regimen for months, and she finally got her blog up--now it's my turn.
I'm in a difficult position as far as exercising goes. I've recently started the steroid shots for my chronic pain and I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous (like pick up a two year old) but on the other hand, it's warm outside, and I'm doing a lot of walking. I figure it can't hurt to get off the bus a few stops early, or powerwalk around the mall in the morning before work. About two weeks after the third shot I'll have the go-ahead to do some low-impact type things.
I may have mentioned this, but my baby brother is getting married in July, and I am a bridesmaid. Everyone involved in the wedding has put on weight due to stress in our individual lives, from the bride herself right down to my mom, we're all struggling. My mom has her variety of drugs that are taking away her appetite, but right now I have no such help.
One of my biggest issues since graduating high school has been impulse control. Back then, I was a model of self-control. I was abstinent, I didn't swear, drink, smoke, or do drugs. I ate normal portions at meals (I could never finish my meals at Chili's) and I ate my mom's cooking most of the time. We didn't keep a lot of stuff in the house--we were poor--so if I munched it was typically on apples or generic cornflakes.
Fast forward. I'm the one in charge of the groceries, and I buy a mess of ice cream, cereal, candy, chips, popcorn, coke, etc. I'm not running myself ragged with school activities and I definitely don't munch on apples for snacks.
I've never been a really active person as far as sports and exercise go. The biggest change in my life has been sheer consumption of junk. I want to change this. For one thing, I am terribly affected by what I eat. If I eat grease, I feel terrible, sick and lethargic and depressed. But if I eat fresh food, like apples and crispy salads, then I feel energized! Healthy! Light! When I eat sweets I feel so heavy...when I eat a light, savory meal, I feel so good.
So why am I still eating McDonald's and Edy's Ice Cream? Simply put, I have no willpower. I am lazy. I indulge in my every craving...I don't know how to moderate.
Well, I'm kicking my own rear into gear. Tomorrow begins a food journal. You can find it at The Shrinkers because I'm so terribly original.
I will also be documenting something else over there, under the "Mood" category...this will remain my makeup-n-mommy blog, but that one will be dealing with my health, with my eating, with That Thing We Don't Talk About, and also with my sanity. Which is fragile right now.
So you can choose! Do you want to read about mascara and Finding Nemo? Do you want to pretend that I live a fabulous life with no problems? Then stay over here. But if you don't mind getting down to the nitty-gritty and reading an OCD-esque log of my food and drug intake, you can head on over yonder, and shrink with us.

Le Sigh.

Today was one of those days where I'd convinced myself I was a horrible person before I'd even gotten out of bed and was fighting with my husband before eight o' clock. I went to work convinced I was fat and was sniffling an apology to Feroze an hour later.
Then he picked me up and we went for a long drive, down to VA for Kebab Palace (best. kebabs. ever.) then back up to Potomac to look at the pretty houses, all the while pleasantly chitchatting amongst ourselves.
I blame the pressure in the air. A gray sky hung over the District damply, and everything had a vaguely spoiled smell, like the rain waited so long to break that it went bad. I won't make the obvious comparison to my life, I'm sure you can infer it.

Fluff Piece

--How come celebrities always stand all funky? Toes in, toes out, hips thrusted, head cocked--why can't they just STAND there?

--With all that money, don't you think they could find someone who would tell them the truth about how awfulterriblescary their clothes are most of the time? I mean, who let SJP out of the house in that heinous dress she wore to the Met benefit? Who let her think that was a good idea?!

This is a Public Service Announcement:

If you are riding a bus in the DC Metro area, and you see a chubby redhead in fabulous Versace glasses, that's me. Please don't sit next to me unless you are small enough to only take up one seat, smell nice, and are reasonably sane. Also, from one chubby girl to another: If your cheekspread covers three seats? And just lumbering down the bus has you all out of breath and cranky? You might want to consider getting off a couple stops early, and possibly forgo that box of Ho-Hos I see in your grocery bag. It's for your own good, really, because if you lose a few pounds I won't have to stab you with a pencil the next time I have to stand up all the way from Rockville to Silver Spring because you've taken more than your fair share of seating.

Laws of Parenting, Part 1

IF you are so tired you are dozing in front of the computer, and your child runs upstairs to visit with her grandma, so you lay down on the couch, the child will come back downstairs the instant you fall asleep, followed by her aunt, hollering that the child needs a diaper change.
IF you then sniff the child, determine the stink is of gas origin as opposed to solid, and send her BACK upstairs, the instant you fall back asleep her grandma will then begin yelling down the stairs that there is actual solid poop in the diaper and also she is leaving, so come get the child.
And then, IF you resign yourself to not getting a nap, change the child's diaper, smack yourself in the face a few times to wake up, make everyone lunch, and sit down for some quality time with your blogs, your child will promptly fall asleep face-first into her corn and chicken, and then you will cry, because you're never going to fall back asleep now.

The Sea Monkey Has My Money.

The floodgates have opened and we are officially a Nemo household. The Leila-ized pronunciation is "Ne-nah-mo," repeated in a keening wail until one of us breaks down and puts the movie in and allows her to rot her tender little brain. I have most of the movie memorized, and I keep trying to get her to enjoy "Shrek" or "Ice Age" but I guess they're just not as visually appealling. It looks like I'm going to have to break down and purchase some Elmo videos or something.

I'm about a week into my latest plan to take care of myself better. This plan does not really involve a change in eating habits as I've proven myself totally incapable of that. I've just been drinking a lot of water, walking more, and most importantly, dressing nicely, fixing my hair, and wearing at least a little makeup every day. It's really improved my outlook. When I look in the mirror, I see a real live grown up who cares about her appearance, instead of a pasty blob with frizzy hair. Once I get my haircut I will probably feel even better. It's really weighing my face down right now. I'm hoping all the walking I have been doing will help me lose weight, but I'm not focusing on losing weight, you know? It is pointless and frustrating. I'm trying to eat a bit less sweets and go back to fruit, which I tend to do during the summer anyway, and I've cut down on the coffee. (Switch to passion tea lemonade with lots of sweet-n-low.)

I am totally rambling! You know, I come up with these thought-out, hilarious posts, with lots of funny metaphors, jokes, and anecdotes, but then when I sit down to write, that stuff just doesn't come out! Bear with me...hopefully I'll strike some sort of balance.

More cuteness

ahmbalah = ambulance
kuwalah = squirrel
fun = phone
ahsside = outside
doh = door
dohttee = dirty
keen = clean
kohn = corn
tull = chul (Bangla for hair)
turi = churi )Bangla for bracelet
teet = teeth

And, five hundred times a day, "Bella coming?" "Baba coming?" "Come on, Mommy! Mommy, come on!"

Her cleaning fetish is full force. She was actually angry with me this morning because I ate breakfast before I started cleaning the kitchen. She sat next to me in her chair, scrubbing the table with a dish cloth. I think I can get some use out of this...

Quick Cuteness

Before I pass out all pathetically early I wanted to quickly write out some thoughts I had today.
I was on the bus planning my blog entry o' raging negativity when I realized--I don't want to be one of those blogs where the writers constantly gripe, complain, and generally feel sorry for themselves. Even though I complain on here, I really don't feel sorry for myself. I'm not really that kind of gal, and I don't want to come across that way.
So instead of my whiny post I decided to post about Her Royal Highness.
Without further ado, cute things that Leila says/does:
1) Lotion is "Shoney" and she loves it. When she sees me get it out (or anything remotely resembling it) she totally freaks out, begging for it. If it's in a pot, she dips one dainty finger in and then gently applies it to her cheek.
2) More is "Mow" repeated upwards of twelve times, with perfectly rounded lips.
3) When Mommy goes potty, it is the funniest thing EVER. Every time. Without fail.
4) She loves to name her clothes as she gets dressed. Shirts are "jama" which is shirt in Bengali. Pants are "Pent" with the "P" and "T" enunciated perfectly. Socks are "Moka" ("moja" means socks in bengali) and shoes are "soo."
5) Mishti is "Mikti", whispered reverently.
6) Last and cutest of all, every morning we have roll call. She names everyone in her little world, and I tell her where they are or what they're doing.
"Baba?"
"Daddy's at work."
"Doddi? Dodda?" (her grandparents)
"Doddi and Dodda are still sleeping."
"NiniBella?"
"Isabella is still sleeping."
"Doh?"
"Miss Joy is still sleeping, too, with Bella."
"FooFoo?" (Her aunt)
"Foo Foo is at work."
"Khala?" (our renter)
"Khala is at work with FooFoo."

And so on, and so on, ending with, "La-La?"
And then I tickle her tummy and hug her and say, "La La is here with Mommy!"
And Mommy is soooo blessed.

Sorry sorry so sorry.

Here, I will apologize for lack of posting and commenting on other blogs (sorry, Patricia!) My apologies will be lovingly accentuated by photos of Her Royal TwoNess, of the Terrible Twos.
I'm sorry!
I'll do better!



"I'll be sooo saaad if you don't forgive my mommy!"

"Will a flower help?"

Assvice and rhetorical questions.

1) Leggings are only cute if you weigh ninety pounds. Otherwise, no. Just--NO.

2) A modicum of politeness is really required when you're out in public. Talking loudly on your cell and smacking your gum while the hapless countergirl rings you up? Not polite. Kinda gross, in fact.

3) Boho is a cute trend. I've bought into it. But please, be careful. After ladies reach a certain age, boho tends to translate into "Scary Cat Lady."

4) You know, if I have to chase your kids down in my store, and tell them to stop doing whatever they're doing, because it's dangerous? You may have failed as a parent in some massive way. Also, you may have failed as a human if you can't figure out that letting your two-year-old climb on a shelf in a store is not a good idea. Or if you weren't, you know, looking at her. And especially if you didn't even notice she was gone...

5) Just because I work in retail doesn't make me less of a human, people. In fact, I make pretty good money and I am somewhat intelligent. So don't think you can stand over there and mutter crap to my poor browbeaten associate, because I will take you up sharply, and I don't care who you call. I say everything sweetly and with a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, is there a problem?" (big smile) "Oh, gee, that's just terrible," (frowny face) "unfortunately, our policy is such that I can't honor that for you, though I'd be happy to list the alternatives." (big smile) (cringe at expletives) "Well, ma'am, I'm so sorry you feel that way. Would you like the number of my district manager? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to confirm what I've told you here." (and not back down an ounce, bitch)

A Matter of Faith

This is an email I sent an old friend, who is now a youth pastor. He knew me at a time in my life when I was fervently Christian, and I am sure he'd be shocked at my current state. This is the main question that bangs around in my little head lately, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, too.


It occured to me today that you might be just the person to answer some of my questions.

The thing is, I am not exactly who I was when you knew me. I mean, none of us could say we're the same as high school, but I confess to having a crisis of faith. A big one.

I may or may not have mentioned to you that I married a Muslim man. I'd never seen another faith intimately before, and what I have seen has surprised me. All those years as a hardcore Christian, it had never occured to me, that, um, people of other religions are just as devoted to their religion as we are/were to ours. And I was a little bit horrified, and a little bit scared, and a little bit disillusioned.

Now my faith is such a touchy matter, and I would really like to return to church in some form because I know that I need to; I know I'm not right with God; I know I need the support of fellow Christians. But here's my problem and I'm wondering about your take on it. My mom says I'm too softhearted but I like to think I'm being logical when I ask you this:

How can God send someone who loves Him, in whatever form they believe in, to hell? Think of it this way. Think of your devotion to God, to Christ. Think of your devotion to discipleship and your love of the church. Now think if some Muslim girl came along and preached the Koran to you, urgently telling you that if you didn't believe in it you would go to hell. You wouldn't believe it, still, because you love God, and you feel his work in your life, and you know in your heart that you believe the right thing.
Now reverse it. You're a devout Muslim. You say your prayers, you do your fasts, you give to charity. Then some Christian guy comes along and starts talking about Jesus and repenting, but you don't believe it, because you love Allah and you feel his work in your life and you know in your heart that you believe the right thing.

So now I ask you--how can God be sending one of these people to hell? They both love Him and long to serve Him, they both think they're doing the right thing.

I'm not expecting you to solve my crisis of faith, I just wonder about your thoughts on this. I've gotten to a point where I would love to go back to church, I would love to sing in the choir, I would love to study my Bible, but I can't, because this is eating me up.

I appreciate your input.

God bless,
Jackie

Cake-gasm

I am sure you have all missed me so very much, and I do apologize for that unscheduled break. I was the lucky recipient of not one, but two very different and very nasty stomach bugs, which apparently are afflicting every single person in the greater metro DC area. Luckily (knock on wood) though Feroze and I both got it, Leila did not, and hopefully will not. I am not letting her anywhere near any other children until this epidemic passes.
So what have I been doing? Let's see...I had the worst. birthday. ever. That was followed by three days of dry heaving and laying in bed feeling quite sorry for myself. Then three more days of weaning myself off of the Cymbalta, which left me dizzy and somewhat stupid, especially coming on the heels of the barfing flu. I have been reading lots of books, and eating lots of easter candy. Easter candy is the best kind of candy there is, people. Cadbury Cream Eggs, Cadbury Mini Eggs, Sweettarts shaped like ducks, jellybeans, pastel colored M&Ms...
I have also been working, feeling sorry for myself because all the spring clothes are soooo cute...being resentful because the least-hard-working member of our team has taken not one but two vacations this month, and trying very hard to be a better wife and mother, by cooking dinner every night, and keeping the house reasonably clean, and spending a lot less time on this here computing box.
Also, trying not to kill my toddler, who is in full terrible-twos mode, whose sleeping habits have taken somewhat of a dive in the past few days, and who, after sleeping in my bed until three this morning, woke up at five. Yes. FIVE this morning.
Luckily for her it is the third gorgeous day in a row, and I am feeling quite forgiving. We will be heading into downtown Silver Spring in a bit. I heard they are putting in a DSW and an American Apparel. Now, American Apparel, whatever, but DSW? Thank the sweet Lord. There have been about eight hundred times I have needed to go shoe shopping, but not felt like traipsing over to Montgomery (Lord knows there's nowhere to shop for shoes in my mall, White Flint) or down to Tyson's. Plus anytime I do manage to go to Tyson's I get totally overwhelmed by all the people and can't deal with the thought of having to try things on.
I live about five minutes from downtown Silver Spring, where they have recently revitalized. There's still a horrible, ghetto excuse for a mall, but I have a feeling they will be either kicking most of the current tenants out or just knocking down the whole thing and building another. In the little circle where all the new stuff is, they put in a Bombay, an Ann Taylor Loft, a Borders, several little food chain places like Potbelly and Chipotle, an Ulta, and a couple of restaurants, Macaroni Grill, Red Lobster, a sushi place, and my favorite, a little theme place called Eggspectation. The menu is huge, and it's sort of like an upscale Denny's. They serve breakfast all day, have a huge bar, a huge assortment of gorgeous desserts, andn then some nice dinner-y things like steak, etc.
In the center, they have a big fountain on mosaic tiles. Kids can play in the fountain until eight o' clock during the summer, and during the winter they turn the water off, and the kids just chase each other around on the tiles. Also, they installed Astro Turf across the street, just a huge strip of it, so kids can run around and play. It's really a charming place, though recently overrun by teenagers.
We plan to venture into City Place (ghetto mall) and look at the Nine West Outlet, and Marshalls. Then we'll eat lunch, check out the bookstore, run around on the Astro Turf, look at some makeup, and possibly grab something to compliment our dinner of steak. Wish us luck--it's so gorgeous outside, I can't wait to go!

Stoic, shmoic.

Oh, ya'all. It is not easy going around these parts lately. A round of the stomach flu knocked me flat on my rear at an inconvenient time for everyone. Leila is extra-toddler like. I tried to do our taxes and screwed something up because it came out that we owed, like, $2000 and are you kidding? 'Cause we do NOT make enough money for that. My mom had what amounts to a nervous breakdown; my brother's wedding planning is not going well. My anxiety has ratcheted itself up several notches and my entire body seems in on the act. I'm dizzy, flu-like, cranky, sore all over, and grumpy as hell. I forgot to pay my cell phone bill and damn Sprint, they didn't even send a text message, they just shut the stupid thing off. This was supposed to be a nice celebratory weekend because I was off yesterday and today, and my birthday is next week, but guess what? Feroze is down with a horrible case of the flu. My pain management appointment was supposed to be this week but I couldn't get my MRI due to the flu, so now I have to figure out where to go from there, and my pain has been exceptionally severe, but I've been trying to hold out for this damn appointment. I am not happy, chickadees, not at all.
I did get two cute shirts yesterday, though. But it doesn't make up for the fact that I'm on round two of this damn stomach pestilence.

Dude. Is this the Cymbalta speaking or what?

Yesterday, my lovelies, I woke up in the most fab-tastic mood. I out of bed at 7:30 and got dressed. I skipped into Leila's room and got her ready for a bath. Before ten I had bathed her, cleaned my kitchen top to bottom, fed both of us breakfast, picked up all the clothes from the floor and washed several loads of laundry, and cleaned all the junk from my table and "microwave stand" which doubles as "holder of recipe books and ten thousand miscellaneous pieces of JUNK." Then I called my husband and bragged. At eleven, Joy swung by and we took the girls to the park. It was eighty five degrees. We were sweating copiously, and it was fun. I made steak and baked potatoes for dinner. Frankly, ya'all, I was rocking.
Today our morning walk brought the nasty realization that it was like, thirty degrees colder than yesterday. I almost missed my bus and had to run for it, something that I never like to do, much less when I am heinously out of shape and fill the bus with the sounds of my heavy breathing. In Eatzi's, my iPod cord caught a basket of chips and pulled them all onto the floor. My lasagna was gross. I am most displeased.
This could have a LOT to do with today being my second Starbucks-free day in a row.