MFA Mama

today BROUGHT IT!

*   I may have a freelance gig doing something I am only marginally qualified to do for someone terrifyingly rich and important at PseudoCorp. When they asked me to meet with them I thought it was regarding PseudoCorp business, but instead they want my help with a personal project that is kind of neat but OH MY GOD DID I MENTION HOW BIG AND IMPORTANT AND RICH AND TERRIFYING THEY ARE? YES? WELL THIS IS ME DOING IT AGAIN BECAUSE GAHHHHH!

*   Okay. Deep breaths. I'm actually more qualified than I thought to do this, in fact it may be something I could start doing as a consultant on the regular if I can get over the overwhelming urge to puke on The Client's shoes and run screaming and waving my hands in the air, heedless to the enormity of my pit-stains (what, you don't sweat profusely when you're nervous? LUCKY YOU). I just...well. I have kind of a complex when it comes to rich people stemming back to my childhood when the only rich people I knew were banging The Narcissist and lavishing her with gifts, which I think my dad kind of accepted as his penance for transgressions of his own in prior marriages, but the whole thing kind of cheesed me off because it tended to throw fuel on the fires of her "I was meant for better than this" complex, with "this" meaning "me." WHOA. AWKWARD. I don't talk about The Narcissist on here (or anywhere else) much for a reason. ANYWAY. Rich people. TERRIFYING. Shit.

*   I have a strict "no turning down work" policy, however. I will put on my big girl panties and Do Lunch with the rich people next week and see where it leads. If I do a good job this might be a foot in the doorway to Better Things. So: YAY!

*   Then I came home and TORE UP the garden, and didn't even find and have to kill any venomous snakes in the process, so, you know, that was good.

*   And then...well. The boys had dinner visitation with their father tonight and I won't stoop ALL the way to juvenile lockerroom bragging, but...a bar has been raised in this house, and that's all I will say.

*   Hotter is feeling much better, obviously. 

*   I am starting to feel less panicky about Big Child's pending birthday. I Have A Plan. He has an Innernet Fairy Godmother who stepped in and is helping me out with the whole Red Robin thing (which is fabulous, because he will be thrilled but also because with his Asperger's if you do something ONCE you have set a PRECEDENT and if you don't do it again the next time the world will fly off its axis and crash into the sun and we will all DIIIIIIIIE...okay, not really. It's not QUITE that bad. But no matter how carefully I tried to explain it he would most likely internalize it as "Red Robin is where one goes for birthdays and we are not going this year because I HAVE DONE SOMETHING TERRIBLY WRONG" and start washing his hands raw again and making us repeat everything we say until we hit the magic number of repetitions, so: yeah), and the only thing Big Child has mentioned really wanting lately (my kids don't ask for much...they know we're poor and don't ask unless they're really, REALLY jonesing for something special) is a Hunger Games t-shirt that one of his friends has that he is convinced is ONLY sold at the very mall where the local Red Robin is located. So if I tell Big Child we have to wait until a non-schoolnight then I will have gotten paid and will be able to get him the t-shirt while we're there for dinner next Friday night. It'll kill me a little bit to buy it in person without a coupon or any cash back from eBates, but it'll make him happy so I will deal :)

*   And now I am off to bed...how are all of YOU?

daily reminder: don't be a jerk

   I am LIVID, so please excuse any typos.

   My old biddy neighbor (yes, the same one who called our landlord and complained about the length of our lawn a couple of summers ago while Hotter was in Club Med fighting for his life) just called me over to the fence between our yards to give me a ration of shit because she wants us to buy a trashcan that matches hers.

   I'll give you a moment to let that sink in.

   Now, I realize that letting a garbage bag sit in the side-yard now and again until I can take it to the nearest unguarded dumpster is not ideal, and that you can pay companies to come and take your garbage away on a weekly basis, but here is the thing: we're poor. We're not the only ones, either. A lot of folks are struggling right now and currently something like half the children in America (my own included) have received Food Stamps at some point in their lives (we do not currently qualify because I "make too much money," although "too much money" evaporates with a quickness when you're buying transplant meds and trying to get dental work done on your transplant-recipient spouse to keep him from developing a life-threatening infection before Something Happens to your job). Nobody talks about it, because it's Not Nice, but you know what? Maybe more of us should.

   So I stood up straight, looked her in the eye, and said "Mrs. Neighbor, we are out of bread, milk, and butter, we have $0.21 in the bank right now, and I don't get paid until Tuesday. Therefore I. Am. Not. Worrying. About. A. Trashcan."

   Go easy on your fellow humans, y'all. If their lawn is unsightly, maybe they have a loved one in the hospital and can't afford gas for the mower. And maybe if they're not worrying about their trashcan matching yours, it's because they're about to go and make some biscuits with coconut oil despite the one child hating the flavor and try to make their kids think that Everything Is Just Fine. Sure, maybe it's just that they're a lazy slob, but give them the benefit of the doubt, okay?

still here, now with MOAR junk in the trunk!

   I'm still around, y'all. I'm just kind of laying low waiting for things to suck a little less so this isn't one big whiny depress-o-rama (I know, I know, FEW YEARS TOO LATE, HA!). Plus, lacking the funds to replace the video card on his computer, Hotter's solution was to plunk my laptop down on his desk, run the monitor cable to his Giant For The Blind Man Monitor into the side of it, move the charger to the outlet under his desk, and...yeah. I'm like a fourth-world nation over here, wandering around with my iPhone bundled up in a spotted handkerchief tied to the stick slung over my shoulder. It's super-tragic.

   Meanwhile, life goes on. I've added to the garden and there are now five twenty-foot rows and a 3x12-ft bed at the end of those in the back yard in addition to the six original beds out front and two new raised beds in the side yard. I DIG WHEN I HAVE FEELINGS, OKAY? As far as my feelings...eh. I'm still utterly panic-stricken about money, unsure of how long my job will last, and not feeling entirely fabulous, although (knock wood) Bad Ear is no longer painful and Jank Jaw seems to be subsiding somewhat as well. I am hopeful at this point that Bad Ear was the reason for Jank Jaw acting up, and maybe now that I'm not in pain from the ear the jaw will settle the eff down and revert to its' pre-ENT Clusterfuck of 2012 level of brokenness (status: effed up but nothing a $500 mouthguard and daily PT exercises at home doesn't keep to a dull roar). Bum Leg is doing better since I quit running (again), the Mystery Surgical Situation I mentioned before is no worse, and my lungs are behaving. I am quietly optimistic; maybe this won't be the bump that upsets the whole goddamn applecart of my health after all, and wouldn't that be nice? Most of what still ails me is, I think, the lingering effect of all the stress on my body (my adrenal glands, judging by the dark purple scarring I tend to do lately, are struggling more than usual, which makes sense given all the stress and steroids of the past couple of months and I'm bone-tired in a way that I was no longer accustomed to being on a daily basis--today, for example, it was utterly gorgeous and I came home from work, changed into gardening clothes, applied bug spray, and then crawled into bed and took a nap).

   Hotter's next dental appointment is in two weeks and I still have no idea how we're going to pay for that. Dammit, we really need to win the lottery over here (not that we play it, which might be why).

   I...still have nothing to say, really, unless you want to hear about how pissed I am that in over a month of religiously tracking my caloric intake and exercise using MyFitnessPal I have managed to...wait for it...gain eight pounds. 

Figure One: Weight loss. UR DOIN IT RONG! Center number redacted because my husband reads my blog and my weight is the one secret I have from that nosy, nosy man. If it weren't for him I'd tell the rest of y'all, if only as a PSA of sorts, because the number is one that commands some motherfucking attention and yet I don't look all that bad. Society is so stupid about womens' weight :(

   So either I have some kind of infection brewing, or I'm just legitimately gaining weight on 1200 or fewer net calories per day, and neither option makes my heart sing, but oh well. On the bright side my clothes still fit about the same (yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat and I get a TON of exercise in the garden, but I still think this is a little absurd), so if I hadn't bought a scale in order to become healthier I'd never even know to be worried (no joke, I am thinking of just getting rid of the scale and going back to eating what I want as long as my clothes fit--I felt a lot better about myself when that was my system).

   And that is all the non-news that's fit to commit to rambling pixelated print. Except that via TFLN I learned today of a sex act called The Pterodactyl and I haven't stopped giggling since (especially after Hotter attempted to pantomime how one might go about doing such a thing). How are all of YOU?

things I'm doing to try and feel better

*   This (Dr. Mom gets two thumbs up from me).

*   Making this a lot.

*   Sleep.

*   Garden, garden, garden (it's good exercise, it's soothing, AND it creates food which helps address a lot of my anxiety about how we'll eat this summer if Temp Agency #1 doesn't have anything for me after PseudoCorp).

*   Cordyceps sinensis (yep, could be total woo, but the endocrinologist who suggested it to me tracked my p.m. cortisol with labwork and if it didn't make a huge difference that was one helluva coincidence/placebo effect).

*   No sugar. Very few white carbs.

*   No stress. I just refuse. Everything is wonderful and fine here, and I'm going to keep saying it until it is true, god dammit.

DRAW ALL THE THINGS

   If anyone needs me for the next week, I'm MFAMama on Draw Something.

 

P.S. It's about all my brain is or will be fit for, seeing as how Isis shook, whimpered, and twitched all night last night as the anesthesia wore off, and then I went in early today to make up for leaving early yesterday, and now Isis seems determined to whine, whimper, and grovel all night tonight because there is a cone on her head. Yes, I know YOUR dog adapted just fine to the cone. Want to trade?*

*  That's right. She is being SUCH a pain in the ass about the cone currently, what with the trying to shake/lick/scrape/paw it off and the whining that it only took us twenty-four hours to go from "DA POOR BAYYYBEE" to "is she better enough to kick yet?" SPOILED DOG DOES NOT LIKE THE CONE OF SHAME.

Ass Wednesday

*   There is nothing quite like finding out you've been fucking ROBBED before 6 a.m. to start your day off shitty. Well okay, not technically robbed, but apparently Temp Agency #1 reset everyone's W-4 status to "single, no exemptions" as of Valentine's Day for who-knows-what-reason and I was supposed to know to refile my tax forms? I don't know. What I do know is that my paycheck this week was light by about 20%, which? UNACCEPTABLE.

*   Don't tell me I'll get it back next April, because I won't. The Department of Education will get it next April. I think this is part of why I was so deeply unhappy about the whole thing (aside from the whole "money snatched from my pocket while attempting to save up for badly-needed medical care for my husband" bit); it reminded me that I suck and am a loser.

*   Speaking of things that suck, why the buggery FUCK doesn't Medicare cover preventive dental care for transplant recipients, anyway? I get that a lot of dental work can be considered cosmetic, and that technically one can get by without teeth, but here's the thing: in an immunocompromised person a dental infection can kill. There is nothing optional about getting the very worst of what's wrong with Hotter's mouth fixed, and Medicare isn't even saving Uncle Sam any money by not covering this stuff, because I'm guessing not a lot of single transplant recipients go on to marry people who are willing to work their ass off and handle this shit. Which means that some of those who are even more fucked than Hotter is end up getting infections, which if they are too poor to have broken teeth extracted and cavities filled and already scrambling to cover their 20% of the medications they need to take every day to not DIE they probably aren't going to go in for right away. When they end up septic Medicare then covers their ambulance trip, their ER bed, their emergency oral surgery and week of IV antibiotics, their echocardiogram to see if they have vegetation on their heart valves, their maintenance meds and ICU bed, and whatever else they need while they're in-patient (and taking a transplant patient to the hospital is like taking a teenaged car to the mechanic--you may go in with a specific goal in mind but they WILL find more work to do while you're there). And all of that for the unfortunate few? Costs a HELL of a lot more than two cleanings and a set of x-rays every year for everybody, even if those DO reveal the need for a few fillings and maybe an extraction or two. /soapbox

*   So I had kind of a crappy day, but it wasn't entirely without merit. For one thing, today I wore a new scarf (this scarf was the last frivolous thing I bought before money went utterly to hell again) that thrills me to the very core for two reasons. First, it's a fabulous scarf (half silk, half pashmina, butter-soft and utterly gorgeous). And second, it was an AMAZING deal ($9.99, free shipping, 1% cash back).

*   Speaking of deals, this free app gave me a sick little thrill earlier today. It's designed to help you find the cheapest gas around, but that's not what I use it for. I already know that Big Box Membership Store will have the cheapest gas around and so unless I have some fuel points from Local Grocery Store to use elsewhere I just buy gas there. No, I use GasBuddy to GLOAT. Yesterday I paid $3.36/gallon for gas at Big Box Membership Store and today that same gas (from the same place) is $3.42/gallon!!! So I saved a little over a dollar by filling the MFA Minivan up yesterday on my way home instead of waiting until today. WHOO TITS!

*   Also my dog is crazy-cute:

Figure One: Of *course* I mean Isis. Bumpus? IS NO DOG OF MINE! He's on his second psych med now; the first one didn't work and while on it he ate a door. I love how Isis does the homie lean, or maybe she's just trying to get AWAY from Bumpus (actually they are the best of friends, which is one of the only two reasons Bumpus still draws breath under my roof, the other one being that so far the cost of the therapy Big Child would need if I got rid of the stupid dog still outweighs what we'll lose of our security deposit thanks to his crazypants antics).

*   And then a sweet friend did something incredibly kind that really raised my spirits. I don't know if she'd be okay with my saying what she did, exactly, or naming her, but I really needed something to cheer my sorry ass up, and this did the job. 

*   I am off to bed, because tomorrow is a seventeen-hour day. Ooof. God, I hate money.

tired

   I think maybe nineteen hours is too long a work-day, because yesterday I was a hot mess (thank you to everyone who did the virtual equivalent of petting my head and fetching tissues when I had my big emo hissy-fit yesterday on the Twitter). I saw the kids for less than an hour all week long and then realized that I was already at work and would be working until 2:30 this morning and wouldn't see them before they left for an Away Weekend and...lost it. Like, ugly cry in the ladies' room at work lost it.

   And that was around nine in the morning, so my day had barely begun and I got to spend the WHOLE THING with the post-ugly-cry achyface.

   A couple of you have asked just what is the deal with the dental work and the more-than-the-bluebook-value-of-the-minivan...I guess people were picturing crowns or something? But no, to be clear, all of that is just to make Hotter's mouth SAFE, not PRETTY. It's things like removing the root of a tooth that is broken off below the gumline, and filling giant holes...just things my dentist (who I trust) has said are serious infection risks (and yeah, in someone who is immunnosuppressed dental infections can get really ugly, really fast, so...). Mind you, he ALSO "needs" four crowns on front teeth that are disintegrating, but we're not even considering trying to do that, because then the cost of his dental work would be coming up on half of what I made last YEAR and there is just no way. So no, I am not killing myself to make my husband have a pretty smile, I am killing myself to keep him ALIVE and therefore it's kind of non-negotiable. And yes, Hotter brushes and flosses and all of that good stuff. But the "throwing up thirty+ times per day" thing he did for months prior to his transplants due to gastroparesis (AND the smoking...*grumble*) just wrecked his teeth (the dentist says he actually started out with excellent teeth and that they're very strong--bad as his mouth is, it apparently isn't NEARLY as bad as what they were picturing and they told me "if it'd been you we'd be pulling 'em all"). We've been ignoring Hotter's dental situation because there wasn't anything we could do about it anyway, but now that I'm actually making decent money, if I'm willing to really bust my ass and we keep on living like we did before when it was kind of up in the air whether there'd be enough for everyone to eat at times we can at least address the very most dangerous stuff going on in Hotter's mouth, and given how badly things could go if we did NOT, that is the plan. We're tackling Hotter's mouth in "quadrants" and Phase One is scheduled for 3/20, so I've got until then to raise about $500 over and above our usual living expenses. Oooof.

   And yes, I am not proud to admit it, but I *did* get kind of bitter about this. I let myself spend an afternoon sulking because I had plans to buy some soil and really go nuts on the Spring garden, and get myself a cute new purse (nothing designer, just a $35 jobbie I fell in love with on Etsy) (isn't that gorgeous?), and get Little Child a new bed (at six he still fits in his toddler bed so that is what he sleeps in, but he is FINALLY pushing the weight limit for the thing and really ought to have a twin). Plus? I'm tired, y'all. It would be great to be able to cut back to just the day-job at PseudoCorp and Fairy Sweatshop Job (which I can do at home while I help people with their homework), and have dinner with my family every night, and be there to tuck my kids in at bedtime. I never sank so low as to get resentful or anything, because if you'd told me ten years ago that I'd be where I am today I would still marry Hotter in a New York minute; because of him I can finally say that someone in my life (who I didn't give birth to) truly loves me like in the movies, and that is worth everything and then some. But bitter? Yeah, for that afternoon I rocked bitter.

   It wasn't a good look, so I put it back on the rack.

   I'm not bitter (anymore) but oh my goodness, I am tired.

the one with the yella sweetener

   I? Am so tired I can't see straight after two back-to-back longer-than-usual days at PseudoCorp (to pad my hours in advance of tomorrow's work-from-home take-Hotter-to-the-dentist get-the-minivan-fixed day--probably I'll only put in a few hours, and I can't afford to lose any!) followed by banquets. Apparently there's going to be another banquet on Friday, too (and one on Saturday that I'll have to miss due to it conflicting with Hotter's and my second beekeeping class, which is the last in-class lesson) (there's an outdoor session TBA that'll involve suiting up and messing with some bees during the nectar flow, but we don't know yet when that'll be because weather factors in--probably in April sometime). Ooof.

   So you get the following (my apologies to those of you who already saw this on the facespace, which I can easily update from The Precious; I still hate Typepad Mobile like poison, sorry):

Woman at last night's banquet service function: D'you got enny 'a that yella sweetener?
MFA Mama: Splenda?
Woman: It comes in th' yella packets.
MFA Mama: Splenda--
Woman: Nevermind, ahl find someone't speaks English!

   And she waddled away!

   Oh, America.

 

Pee Ess: I left my work laptop at the office, realizing it only after I'd arrived at New Weekend Warrior Job. NWWJ is literally only one minute away from PseudoCorp, but I was now in a tuxedo and honestly debated whether or not to show my face in the building thus attired (yes, PseudoCorp's building is open 24/7 if you have an access badge; it's guarded around the clock and I was therefore guaranteed to see someone I knew because I'm friendly with the security guards). Finally I decided it was stupid to let my pride get in the way of my having the tools I needed to be productive tomorrow and marched in there. "Wow, look at you," said the guard on duty, grinning. "Yep," I said, "now my secret is out. My second job is at Chippendales--you oughta see me spin the bowtie!" And we had a good laugh and then I went and got my computer.

work/life

*   I went into the office at 6 a.m., brought my work laptop home so I can work up until getting into the dentist's chair tomorrow, had homemade spinach/artichoke/cheese dip and wine for dinner plus fabulous sex and am STILL kind of worried about my newest active work-project (of which, suddenly, there are like FOUR). Y'all, suddenly I am kind of a big deal. I have already had meetings--MEETINGS!--with five people this week. That is no exaggeration, FIVE PEOPLE. HOUR-LONG MEETINGS. TO DISCUSS PROJECTS I AM WORKING ON AND OMG HOW DID THIS HAPPEN I HAVE A CUBICLE AND A BOX OF TISSUES AND EVERYTHING. Sorry, sometimes I get like that when I try to mentally cram my sense of self into corporate America. Because it's so wrong, but also? Because increasingly it's not that hard and I even feel kind of fond of good old PseudoCorp. MY GOD DO THEY PUT IT IN THE BREAKROOM COFFEE???

*   I effed up with Fairy Sweatshop Job. Or rather, I apparently misread handwriting on a card, but this is clearly me and my stupid eyes at fault here, and OMG LOST IN THE MAILNESS. My one consolation is that I think Fairy Sweatshop boss had planned on the work taking me longer than it did, so MAYBE she won't give up on me entirely if my work doesn't UTTERLY suck (not gonna lie, I think a few widgets I blew entirely, but no more than 5% of them). I am kind of gutted about that. I really liked the work, dammit! Now if I no longer have a job Imma have to troll Etsy looking for someone else to subsidize my sparkly new hobby.

*   I dunno y'all, I feel really good about my career-ish stuff right now, so why am I not happier? I feel like I need to hurry up and replenish our savings, expand our garden for the coming growing season, build this and fix that and what the hell? Is this an early midlife crisis? Meanwhile I think Hotter is feeling isolated and lonely at home without me and I hate that, although if I wasn't working where I'm working I'd be working somewhere else...I dunno.

*   This morning my life passed before my eyes. A quart-jar of water kefir broke in my work-bag (which would be bad enough, the loss of the water kefir and the big canning jar and the BlogHer '10 swag-bag, but AFTER tipping the worst of it out onto the floor of the parking structure and putting it in the minivan and sighing and going about my day, AFTER getting halfway into my work, I realized THE PRECIOUS WAS IN THAT BAG. I raced back downstairs, yanked the minivan door open, fished the dripping OtterBox out of the wreckage, brushed the glass off it, and tore it off The Precious and...she was fine. SHE IS OKAY, PEOPLE! OtterBox, come here and let me hold you...

*   How are all of YOU?

tomorrow...

...I have to put on fancy clothes and cloppy high-heeled shoes and makeup and jewelry, and do something with my (freshly cut and colored myself for the occasion) hair and in general try to look like I did not just get an overdraft fee or anything like that and take part in a Very Important Meeting about my work-project. It's not a "maybe if it goes well I'll be hired on permanently" type of meeting, or a "if it doesn't go perfectly my arse is history" type of meeting or anything like that; I am not RUNNING said meeting but rather supporting my boss and standing ready to answer any technical questions that may arise vis a vie The Project, and am confident that it will go well, because I am very good at what I am doing and everyone seems tickled to death with me. So there is no need to be nervous about the actual meeting's outcome or anything, but if you wanted to think some good thoughts for me, that I don't spill coffee down my front or get a ladder in my stockings until AFTER the meeting, I'd appreciate it all the same!