* After sleeping on it, I decided to take the Dalai Lama out of "meh." His tweets really are full of the awesome, I just miss most of them because Twitter without lists anymore is ridic.
* Unfortunately I couldn't do that, because our innernet is off. And I can't do anything about that until the XY pays the child support, which he usually does a day or two late anymore.
* Also I have a wicked stomachache.
* And today's temp job sucked (not the job itself so much as the location, which was THE VERY COURTROOM where the XY's and my most terrifying legal encounters all took place).
* Currently I'm borrowing the library's innernet because I had to e-mail some photos from today's job to the client (yes, I know that you're not allowed to take cameras into courtrooms, but I had to for today's job; a deputy escorted me to ensure I didn't do anything nefarious with it).
* I took the Dalai Lama out of "meh" and put him into "Top Dogs" JUST IN CASE.
* The third duck has continued to lay spiral eggs. I think I might try to market them as rare narwhal eggs. THAT would certainly pay the innernet bill!
* If I'm not already following any of you, which is probably more to do with my not knowing you're on the Twitter (AHEM, Christine) (Lala I stopped following you because you don't tweet but will refollow when my innernet works again), leave me a comment and I'll follow you. I won't even put you in "meh!"
* Anyone wanna buy a narwhal egg?
Hotter: What are you doing?
MFA Mama: Sorting my Twitter-people into lists.
Hotter: Are you THAT BORED?
MFA Mama: Eh, it just needed to be done.
MFA Mama: Twitter was getting too crowded since I started entering lots of contests. I was missing tweets from people I cared about and getting too many freaking commercials and coupon offers.
Hotter: So unfollow the spammers.
MFA Mama: I don't have a spreadsheet for end-of-contest dates to tell me when I can stop following them. Plus then there's the problem of people I really SUPER care about getting lost among other people I don't want to follow. So I made a list called "top dogs" to put them in if I only have a minute to check up on my peeps.
Hotter: How many lists do you have?
MFA Mama: Five. Funny is for the ones I want to see. Contests is for ones I'm just following for contests. Top dogs I already explained. Meh is for people who everyone follows so I followed them and then they followed me and now I don't want to offend them by unfollowing, and people who lurve me but I'm just not that into them and I don't want to HURT them by unfollowing. Also people who are kind of depressing who I might not be up to reading just any time. WTF is for people I don't really recognize by their profile or remember why I followed them, but usually I have a reason so I put them in there.
Hotter: Oh. That seems...complicated.
MFA Mama: Yeah like right now? The Dalai Lama.
Hotter: THE DALAI LAMA IS ON TWITTER?
MFA Mama: Yep. It's kind of a tough call, because--
Hotter: That can't really be him.
MFA Mama: It's a verified account.
Hotter: I didn't think they had electricity!
MFA Mama: Well, he at least has a cell phone, because he's on Twitter.
Hotter: AND HE TWEETS IN ENGLISH?
MFA Mama: Yep. He's the Dalai Lama, of course he knows English.
Hotter: I AM DISAPPOINTED IN LIFE.
MFA Mama: If it's any consolation he tweets really profound and thought-provoking stuff. He gets a TON of retweets. Aaaanyway. This is tough, because I like him a lot, but he's just not FUNNY. Sorry Your Holiness, you're going in Meh.
Hotter: YOU CAN'T PUT THE DALAI LAMA IN MEH!
MFA Mama: Dude, I'm not always up for the Dalai Lama. I don't think he's gonna hold it against me. Besides, I'll still read him, just not when I'm feeling shallow.
Hotter: stomps off
Hello, lovelies! I didn't forget y'all, I just had a hella long day yesterday starting with waking the whole family at oh-god-hundred and taking them en masse to Transplant Clinic at Local Teaching Hospital (which on the whole? I'm getting better about that; I no longer want to rip my skin off and run screaming down the street to escape that venerable institution and actually credit working there quite a bit with helping to break me of my horror of the place) (that said, it is still Not My Favorite Place) and ending with working past midnight at the Top Secret Job of Legally-Binding Confidentiality And Nondisclosure.
Also, I still can't tell you about The Greatness, although some of the guesses are amusing the HELL out of me, nor can I sleep. So instead, upon noticing that the wonderful May's husband H wrote on her blog and did a meme (but, bless his cotton socks, forgot to tag anyone) I decided I'd try and encourage him by tagging mySELF. I've done some variation of this one before, I think, but it's fun so here it goes again (I don't like to tag people in case they don't want to be tagged, so if you WANT to do this, then pretend I tagged YOU):
Not as easy as you might think…
your boyfriend/girlfriend (husband, whatever): loving
your hair: long
your mother/stepmother: sinister
your dog: two
your favorite item: laptop
your dream last night: terrifying
your favorite drink: margarita
your dream car: hybrid
the room you are in: bedroom
your fear: loneliness
what you want to be in ten years: comfortable
who you hung out with last night: Isis
what you're not: conformist
one of your wish list items: home
the last thing you did: snacked
what you are wearing: jammies
your favorite weather: Fall
your favorite book: many
the last thing you ate: cheddar
your life: full
your mood: sleepy
your best friend/s: husband
what are you thinking about right now: classified
your car: decrepit
what are you doing at the moment: blogging
your summer: austere
your relationship status: enviable
what is on your tv: huh?
what is the weather like: bipolar
when is the last time you laughed: always
* The Reuben my chickens were eating was not food-waste from within Casa MFA (horrors!) (nor do we use bought bread at all, nor could I be arsed to make marbled rye; Hotter is lucky if I make him plain Swedish rye once in three months), but rather a "hot-box leftover" from the concession stand at Weekend Warrior job several weeks ago. Technically it was probably okay for human consumption, but just dried-up and fatty as HELL and Weekend Warrior Job has been kind enough to let me take leftovers on several occasions for my chickens with the caveat that they are NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION so I remain true to my word on that in the name of the local Health Department :) That is how my chickens have come to be connoiseurs of pricey hot sammiches and things like pigs in the blanket and marinated mushrooms. Lately I'm a fan of protein and fat for the poultry that I don't have to pay for, organic or no (and a surprising amount of the food served at Weekend Warrior Job actually is). So lest anyone think I'm buying and failing to eat fancy sammiches or letting them go to waste, that's the story behind the Reuben.
* I tweeted a photo a while ago because the view from my seat at the dinner table made me giggle, and then almost immediately felt self-conscious because I've written openly about how grave our financial situation is on several recent occasions. In case anyone saw the tweet and was wondering/worrying/rubbing their hands together with glee and calling CPS on me, there was also a roasted chicken involved in tonight's meal, we just don't put the carcass on the table because SOMEone is sure to burn themself on the pan if we do (or start asking anatomical questions that will make at least one other person present queasy). The recent discussion of the tip jar made me worry that someone would either surmise that we had nothing else and feel uneasy/pressured to do something about that, or start a new Twitter account just to talk about how I'm a big misrepresenting liar who tells tall tales on the innernet to line their pockets via PayPal, or...hell I dunno maybe I overthink these things due to some of the stuff in Stalky's manifestos? Ennyhoo, there was a chicken. Swearsies! The end.
* I also tweeted some garden porn today:
Figure One: We thought the cauliflower the chickens ate was history, but it has made an incredible comeback!
Figure One: Our first zucchini of the year forming on the bush with the flower still attached. I heart squash flowers! May have also inspired Backpacking Dad's new band-name!
Figure Two: Substantially less impressive until I tell you that I only ever got ONE artichoke seed to sprout and transplanted it triumphantly into the ground at the same time as the cauliflower. It met a similar fate and lost all but one leaf down so far down the stalk that I despaired of side-branches ever forming, but because I love a lost cause I kept watering it. WHOO TITS!
* Time to get up and go to work. Gah. How are all of YOU?
Okay, sure, I had to use the nebulizer for the third time in forty-eight hours (I seriously liked it better when the mere presence of the large boxes full of albuterol amps intimidated my lungs into exhibiting their very best behavior) and Hotter got pissy with me for going back to bed (I stayed up much of last night AT HIS URGING to help my body get used to that idea ahead of tonight's work; I was productive, too, baking breakfast for the family and crunching a lot of very depressing numbers I'd been avoiding), which would either of them in and of themselves Ruin My Day a couple of months ago, but in the new-normal they're small potatoes; today is still going better so far than yesterday did.
I went to the grocery store and stayed under my budget amount (which was under fifty dollars, and we're out of EVERYTHING, which is why this was such a nervewracking task), but still managed to get nutritious things to feed to everybody (including the cockatiel and the dogs) until my next paycheck is in.
And I made a payment toward my phone bill that SHOULD be enough to keep them from disconnecting me, which would make it very hard to keep working. So that's good. I bought gas yesterday on the way home from Weekend Warrior Job, at the small-town gas station near the Soulless Corporate Monolith job that I've discovered has it for twenty cents less than anywhere else in town, big-box membership stores included, so now we're stocked up and in a holding pattern (with enough for one half-gallon emergency milk in the bank) until payday.
Having food and gas both be several days to the good is such a comfort, y'all. I didn't exactly take it for granted before, but I had become accustomed to having it be minimally worrisome for a good long run prior to the past few months and now I pretty much feel like a bigshot if neither is on my immediate radar on any given day. And the phone is good because that's my lifeline on breaks at Soulless Corporate Megalith; yes I need to be able to keep tabs on Hotter and the boys and know if there is an emergency with them or call MFA Mechanic if the MFA Minivan strands me somewhere, but the good it does my mental health to have my Twitter peeps at three in the morning when I'm on lunch and Hotter's sleeping is not to be underestimated.
I do hope the universe doesn't feel like I need a little slap to keep me awake tonight at work or anything. A facespace friend recently compared my life to Wile E. Coyote, jumping in with "at least there was no giant box of TNT going boom?" I did laugh at that. Friends who compare me to a looneytune and sympathize with me on my "pullet wound" (yeah, a pullet attacked me and pinch-bruised the shit out of my arm) remind me that we can choose laughter. So tonight at work I'm just going to try and stay out from any giant safes or pianos on creaky, fraying ropes and hope for the best. It's all any of us can do I guess.
After some initial panic due to a slight misrepresentation on the part of Temp Agency #1, I rallied with the aid of caffeine and finished my shift at Soulless Corporate Megalith last night (this morning? Yesterday? Whatever the fuck...). And I'm going back today (tonight). Actually...right about now. Seeya on the Twitter...