I'm exhausted

I don't know how my parents did it with three.

Too much time on our hands

This is not bad Photoshop work... these are actual life-size cutouts. Well, I guess that could qualify as bad Photoshop work.

Damn, Obama is TALL!!!

Conversation over birthday cake

...between two 7-year-olds.

Zoe: So, do you have any other kids? Like, any sisters?

Lewis: No, I'm single.

Snicker, snicker

Boss: You know those new PC commercials? Where they say, "I'm a PC, and this is my office?"

Me: Yeah. "I'm a PC, and I wear headbands."

Boss: Someone on the internet found the commercial and stripped it down to the code. That commercial was made on a Mac.

He's no Joe the Plumber

Sign on a business on Banksville Road: Tom the Heating Guy works here.

Trip to Simmons Farm

It's all there

"You can grab me 'cause you're nasty."

-- Filthy and Gorgeous, Scissor Sisters



It is truly amazing the filth you can find online.

I do a lot of research online for work, and I often come across shit that catches me off guard. One day I needed a digital picture of a Hershey's chocolate syrup bottle. Ever try Googling that? Don't.

Years ago I did a search for Edward Norton to fact-check something I was editing... and that lead to pop-up after pop-up of boobies on my very visible work computer.

I'm a huge fan of Ferris Bueller, and a recent search to find out what happened to the actress who played Sloan led me to plenty of sites and forums dedicated to her nude scenes. I don't know that I could ever watch Ferris Bueller again without those images surfacing in my brain.

When I opened my first online account in high school, the internet was limited to IRC and those bulletin boards you could DIAL INTO and post to... it was all very remedial compared to what you can snag online today.

I have another blog that I contribute to infrequently... but I check in on it once in a while to clear out the spam. Because that blog deals with more adult content, the comments are... well... more adult. The content of the blog itself is way less benign than the comments it attracts. Comments with links that make me blush.

It has made me start wondering how we -- a generation who grew up with the evolving internet -- will ever be savvy enough to hide this shit from our kids, when we know they are going to discover it at some point. I can't believe we keep debating about sex ed in schools when this shit is waiting for them right around the corner.

Our kids learn to operate a mouse shortly after they learn to walk. And we keep them inside so much because we are so afraid of predators... MOSTLY FROM THE INTERNET... stopping by our homes to prey on our kids.


What I wouldn't give to get back to the days when street lights coming on determined how late kids were getting home instead of how long kids have been missing.

Heroine vs. heroin

On Sunday, I was letting the dog in the house when I noticed an immobile creature on the back patio that didn't belong.

Liam said I started screaming for him, but I swear I merely called out. Screaming is what you do when you win the lottery. Calling out is what you do when you find a dead animal in your back yard.

We soon discovered the fly-covered carcass was a raccoon. Being ever so dutiful, I called up the health department. OK, I was hoping that they'd come get it off my back patio. But they advised me to bring it to them.

"Double bag it," the woman on the phone told me. "And if you can, refrigerate it until you can get it here."

"Honey," I told her bluntly, "I'll bag it as many times as you want, but I ain't bringing that shit in my house and putting it in my fridge!"

Liam and I stood on the back patio with garbage bags trying to determine how to get the damn thing into a bag without sickening ourselves. I can't remember what movie it was, but I keep conjuring up a scene were two guys are standing over a body and slapping their foreheads wondering how to dispose of it. I was nearly sick with thinking I could possibly be dealing with death and disease.

Liam busted out sticks and shovels, and not only did he bag the thing, he actually offered (reluctantly) to transport the thing in HIS OWN CAR to the health department.

The woman on the phone told me that because it was the weekend, I would have to go to the back of the building and find the guard, who would refrigerate the raccoon until they could test it. Liam parked at the end of their driveway in Oakland, and I took the stinky, fly-filled garbage bag out of his trunk and marched into the back parking lot, hoping no one would be alarmed by the sight of this and stop me, because all we wanted to do was unload this fucking raccoon and get on with our day.

I found an open door and went in. There were college-age kids milling around in groups, but I saw no guard. One of the girls turned around and greeted me, as I'm standing there with this plastic bag an arm's length from my body.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

I couldn't say that I had. "No. I called about the raccoon."

"There's.... there's a raccoon in there???" she practically shrieked.

"It's dead, don't worry," I said, reacting to the alarm that spread through the corridor. "They asked me to drop it off for testing."

"Oh, you must want the health department."

I looked at the ALLEGHENY COUNTY HEALTH DEPARTMENT sign just above my head. "Um... this says 'health department.'"

"You want the next door down," she told me. "This is the needle exchange program."

I looked at her. I looked at my garbage bag. I looked back at her.

At that moment, I realized she thought I was carting in a bag full of needles.

I turned and walked out. There was no joke I could make that would have diffused that situation gracefully.




Today the health department called me with the good news: The raccoon tested positive for rabies.

The department of agriculture is paying us a visit this weekend, and I'm not sure why because when I spoke to the man who called, I was so flustered to learn that a rabid animal had been on my back porch AND MY DOG GAVE IT A TONGUE BATH that I couldn't wrap my head around what exactly it was he was trying to tell me. That, and he talked really fast. I heard "quarantine" and "exposure" and stuff like that.

But after I calmed down, I realized, if this was some kind of emergency, the guy wouldn't wait to show up until Sunday in the middle of a Steelers game.

If you need another reason to hate Comcast...

I haven't been very forthcoming about my Comcast woes here... mostly because my attempts at dealing with the company have fallen woefully short. Don't try withholding payment to Comcast for shitty service. Doesn't work. Nor does screaming at some poor technician, or his cubicle mate who is trying to pass off as his supervisor. Come to think of it, calling up sales knowing they are the only department staffed well enough to answer the phone within a reasonable time period is not a proven method to solving problems either.

Sometime during summer, after one of my screaming matches with a poor fool paid to answer phones, I downgraded my service. A few days later, a guy came to the house, climbed the pole, came in and took my DVR (I suck in my breath now.... in despair... I didn't realize what life would be like when I couldn't pause my favorite show while my kids were crawling all over me begging for attention), and I was left with... Basic Cable.

I didn't want to have basic cable, and I didn't want to be without a DVR. But Comcast was driving me insane with bundle-this and bundle-that, and in the end I was getting a few network stations and slow internet for the same price I was paying for the previous year of full-fledged technology.

No big deal over the summer, when Zoe spent a month with her dad and I had no ER to dedicate my Thursdays to.

Then, a miracle happened: Fios finally became available in the sticks where I live.

I signed up, and canceled Comcast. They came and got the modem. I was free.

Or so I thought.

A few days later, I got a $450 bill for the DVR.

I called and explained that they already had it. "Do you have a work order?" they asked.

"DON'T YOU??"

Soon a collection agency was calling. This is while Comcast agreed to do an inventory search. Then a service technician who "happened to be in the area" called and asked if he could pick up the DVR.

I DON'T HAVE IT, I kept telling them. Then, another bill for $450.

Luckily I have all the work orders. Last night, I had a rather lengthy visit with the BBB web site, plugging in service order numbers and account information and very detailed bitching about the "service" that is Comcast.

I have now been harassment free for 24 hours. Good sign.

Growing pains

I have been taking a fish oil supplement to help get off the Zoloft. The HUGE pill is coated in some kind of vanilla crap, and normally it doesn't bother me. I, however, have been burping up fish junk all night for some reason. All I had for dinner is Apple Jacks, so I don't get it.

Which leads me into this natural segway: I have been working on a new site. When I started this blog a few years ago, it was to chronicle my moving from Florida and transitioning into the life I imagined here. There were a lot of twists and turns, but now I'm here!

My baby daddy (thanks, Bob!) and I have been loosely working on a design for the new site. I have a lot of ideas, but any feedback you might have regarding This Thing I Call a Blog will be appreciated.

Hit the comment button. C'mon. It's anonymous! Or just email me at sirschy@hotmail.com, or leave a message in the rail at the right.

Racing time

I have been so sick this week. And it's only October.

Zoe is on her first round of antibiotics for the season. And Jacob began coughing last night.

I feel like I have so much to get done before fall is over. And it seems like it just got here!

Being a homeowner is hard work. I guess it's a little more difficult than I anticipated. As a single mom, it's hard to rely on people... family say they will come to help take down that tree, friends say they will stop by to snake the toilet downstairs... and it doesn't happen, and I fully appreciate that they have their own lives. I feel quite capable of doing a lot of things myself, and I can be quite stubborn about doing so and reaping the satisfaction. But I can't do it all, and this fall my long wish list has been shortened, excluding things that can be revisited next year.

I could never have imagined though that it would be so rewarding to have a home. I have been here a year and a half. I see Liam moving into his own new home these past few weeks, and I admire his patience in getting things done around his children's schedule. I am all too familiar with moving around and wanting to make things perfect before uprooting the kids once again.

As an adult, you want things to be smooth for the kids, but you also want to hurry up the transition to a new life once you've committed.

Things have been changing rapidly for both of us, and it has been a little jarring. Being sick is probably the kick in the ass I needed to slow down and enjoy life for what it is.

Of course, I seem to need that kick every few days.

Season-ing

"If you don't give up
And don't give in,
You may just be OK."

-- The Living Years, Mike and the Mechanics



I have been hard at work getting the yard and gardens ready for fall... I had a blast with the kids today, putting away the pool and cleaning off lawn furniture. Hello, autumn.

It was a great escape from everyday life. I guess normally I would dread all that work of carting shit to the garage for storage, after cleaning it all, but it was ... how do I say this... I don't know.

Cleansing?

Now that Jacob is old enough to be included in all this ritual stuff, it's incredible to watch him take it in. He wants to help with everyting. It's rewarding to watch Zoe guide him. When she's not screaming at him.


There's so much going on in real life that this semi-quiet weekend was not only productive, but relaxing as hell. I think I witnessed something develop with my kids this weekend that most parents might take for granted: Zoe and Jacob realized they are individuals. Jacob is not always with me, and maybe they have felt the need to be together when they can, but today was the first time I saw them spend time in the same place, but mostly apart.

I think if I hurry and install a phone in Zoe's room and Cinemax in Jacob's, I might not have to hear from either of them again until they're married.

Party of five

I made tuna noodle casserole for the first time in years.


Jacob was the only holdout. Wait until he gets to college.

Bring my kid to work day

I had to be a little innovative with my schedule today, so I took my sick Zoe to work and hid her in my cubicle.



I have to say, it was fun having her there. She camped out and watched a movie in between cuddling with me until my dad got off work and could pick her up. I almost wish I could have kept her with me. Of course, she was very subdued because she wasn't feeling well, and our internet was down so I was limited with the amount of work I could do, so this might not have worked under optimal conditions.

After a day and half of antibiotics, her ear infections seem to be easing up on her. Back to school for her on Monday.

On the fence, eternally

I have to say, I'm about as interested in politics as I am in collecting jelly shoes. But tonight I listened to much of the vice presidential debate for the entertainment value. And entertaining, it was.

I like Sarah Palin. Not because she's a woman so much, but that's some of it. I actually forgot a few times that she was the Republican.

If she were running for president, I might consider her. But I can't stand McCain.

Either way, we're making history: the first woman VP or the first black prez.

You betcha.

Things.... disappear

The school nurse called today and suggested I remove my infected daughter from their campus.

Thus began a whirlwind tour around the county to get my daughter to the doctor and in protective care so I could get back to work.

I ended up in my father's kitchen, eating his famous boiled pasta and heated Ragu Super Chunky Mushroom (which he has absolutely perfected), and while we were cleaning up, we started trading stories about Zoe's penchant for discarding her garbage wherever she feels the whim.

I'd like to say Dad won, but a popsicle stick in the yard and a sucker stick behind the LaZBoy didn't match my multiple Pudding Pop wrappers under the armoire or the three granola bar wrappers under the couch.

But Dad and I continued to spar, under the watchful, if fallen, Zoe.

Dad: I baked cookies, and she ate all of them!

Me: I bought groceries, and she at all of them!

So Dad, in his defeat, decided to show Zoe how it's done right. He called her over to his garbage can and lifted a discarded bag from the top of the heap.

"Zoe, if you need to get rid of something, and you want to hide it, just lift the top thing up, throw your thing in, and cover it up."

He replaced the discarded bag to show how it could cover up the contents beneath it.


GEE, THANKS DAD. Now she'll manage to find all the kindergarten artwork and stained jeans I manage to hide in our own garbage.

Dad wins this one.