sueeeus

Things are going slow.  I’m trying to figure out how to make the links work and how to get the format situated and how to import my blogger stuff.

There are a lot of settings, but once they’re done, I think things should be good.  I like the tool itself, so far.  This is a blockquote example.

Here is another blockquote, nested.

1. The template is set up for lists and such
2. I need to learn about the inline imaging.  It doesn’t resize and the aspect ratio isn’t locked.

And another nested one.

My name is sueeeus.

I am…

…a loving mother to a beautiful boy, sometimes exasperated wife to a sometimes exasperating husband, sister to many, friend to some.

100 things about me, in no particular order…

1. I am a half breed.
2. I have six brothers.
3. I have two sisters.
4. I am the oldest girl.
5. I am second of nine.
6. Just before I started Jr. High, I moved to a rural town and our well ran dry. The only water we had was dark dark dark silty putrid orange. Our pipes froze every winter, too, so we didn’t even have access to the orange water for months. We hauled drinking water from town in 5 gallon jugs and sometimes melted snow to wash dishes and take sponge baths. It was so embarrassing for a teenage girl. After I left home and went to college, my parents were able to afford to have a new well drilled. Crystal clear delicious water.
7. I have a degree in Electrical Engineering.
8. I graduated ‘Cum Laude’.
9. I’m quite certain I would have done much much better had I not convinced myself that it was much harder than it was.
10. I only chose engineering because that major had the best hiring stats at the time.
11. I minored in Computer Science because I liked computers/computing/programming.
12. I used to think that CS was for people who weren’t smart enough for engineering. You know… idiots. So I didn’t take it very seriously, and I didn’t go work for Microsoft in the 80s because it was beneath me. See who’s the idiot (me) and see who’s basking in their cashed in stock options (not me).
13. I am sometimes a snob (see 12).
14. I love broccoli.
15. I can’t stand the taste, texture, or smell of most squash.
16. I’m deathly afraid of and disgusted by stink bugs.
17. I love gadgets. Especially kitchen gadgets.
18. I love tools, so I don’t give my husband too much trouble when he buys tools, because secretly I plan to take advantage of his stash some day.
19. I met my husband on the internet (match.com) in December of 2001.
20. I’m embarrassed to tell people how we met.
21. We’ve lived together since the day we met in person, three days later.
22. I’m embarrassed to tell people we’ve lived together since the day we met in person.
23. We got engaged ten days later.
24. He proposed via email.
25. I’m embarrassed to tell people how he proposed.
26. We got married 01 April 2003. I chose April Fool’s day so I’d always remember our anniversary.
27. I love my husband.
28. I love him even more, now that we have a baby.
29. I take most things way too seriously.
30. When I was in second grade, some of the boys called me fat.
31. I wasn’t very fat at all. I had a little bit of a blubber belly, is all.
32. More than 30 years later, one of those boys works down the hall from me, in a giant company that is located over 350 miles from where we went to grade school. I don’t consider him my arch-enemy any more.
33. I am ‘morbidly obese’ by the text book standards.
34. I don’t think I am morbidly obese.
35. I used to be ‘drop dead gorgeous’ (according to a few people, myself not included).
36. When I was a teenager and obsessed with the size of my waist, I told my sister that her waist would never be smaller than mine. (Teenagers can be so cruel.)
37. I now weigh twice as much as my sister.
38. I didn’t get a car until after I graduated from college.
39. I’ve always wanted to have children. Two boys and a girl.
40. I’m 40.
41. I don’t ovulate (much).
42. I got pregnant the first month that I started fertility treatment.
43. I miscarried my twins on my 38th birthday.
44. I took a break from fertility treatments (gave up) and started taking classes for foster parenting certification with the option for adoption.
45. I had to plow through alot of HMO bureaucracy before I started fertility treatments again. When I finally got the authorization to proceed, I took a precautionary pregnancy test. It was positive.
46. I believe in miracles.
47. I’ve had a life prayer that I’ve prayed for most of my life, to become a mother before I’m 40. (I know not to bargain with God, and impose time limits, but I did it just the same.)
48. I gave birth to a beautiful healthy boy 2 months and 2 weeks before I turned 40.
49. I believe what the bible says about the holy spirit.
50. I believe the bible is God’s word.
51. I don’t go to church.
52. I love to sing.
53. I don’t sing very well, but sometimes it seems like I do.
54. I think Bono is my soul-brother.
55. I love alot of music by the Who, the Moody Blues, and Pink Floyd.
56. I loathe the marijuana culture.
57. I was involved in long-term (non-consecutive) relationships with not one, but two, marijuana addicts.
58. Almost every boyfriend I’ve ever had was a drummer.
59. I freaked out when my husband expressed interest in playing the drums.
60. I used to be in love with Barry Manilow.
61. And Johnny from Emergency 1.
62. And Luke Skywalker. In fact, I used to daydream that I had a horrible life threatening disease like leukemia, and he (Mark Hamill) would be moved by that, come to my bedside, and fall deeply in love with me. Such drama. Acccckkkk, how embarrassing to admit that, and even to have ever thought such a thing! AAcccccckkkkk!!!!
63. Shortly thereafter, I switched my infatuation to Harrison Ford, who remained hot until the Calista Flockhart mid-life crisis incident.
64. I think Ed Harris is hot. My husband never lets that one rest; he is very amused by it.
65. I don’t like blondes. (Not that I don’t like them, but given the preference, and if I were that superficial, I’d choose a dark-haired man over a blonde.)
66. I married a blonde man.
67. I have a blonde baby. So I LOVE blondes!! He is so beautiful.
68. I like to design and make things. All kinds of things. Like fountains, furniture, toys, costumes, gadgets, gizmos, web sites.
69. I don’t actually complete many of said designs/projects.
70. I like to paint.
71. I like to write.
72. I like to go outside in a torrential downpour and turn my face toward the sky.
73. I’m a leather snob. It doesn’t have to be name brand, but it has to have just the right weight, texture, sheen, etc. for its given application.
74. I love hot hot hot spicy food.
75. I want to write a book some day. And have it be a bestseller.
76. I’m designing my next home, which I plan to participate heavily in the construction thereof.
77. I want to start my own business and have it be wildly successful.
78. I love TV shows and films. They calm me down because I get too stressed out over too many things.
79. I get too stressed out over too many things.
80. I cry during tv shows and movies when sad things happen.
81. Especially the news. I don’t like to watch the news. I don’t like to see people’s babies washed away by tsunamis and hurricanes and such.
82. I intentionally ate half a piece of spice cake laced with hashish in Amsterdam, for the ‘full Amsterdam experience’ and also in retaliation to my then-boyfriend’s accusations of my hypocrisy for passing judgement against the recreational use of mind altering substances when I’d never walked a mile in those shoes, so to speak.
83. I’ll never do that again, and my opinion about mind-altering substance use remains intact. But the blue spaghetti that I had for supper that evening was the best ever. I don’t remember what turned it blue, but it had nothing to do with the hash. Honestly.
84. On a camping trip once, in a beautiful forest by a crystal clear stream, I danced naked in the pouring rain by a blazing bonfire in the middle of the night with my face lifted up to heaven. It was bliss. Later the rain stopped and the stars came out. It was magical.
85. I climbed a mountain (a small one) once.
86. I’ve seen signs and wonders when I was paying attention.
87. I sang an Ode to Joy in the tongue of angels, standing alone under a marbled dome in the cemetary where Beethoven is buried (Vienna). It was ethereal.
88. I don’t know anything about wine, but I love cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir, and merlot.
89. I’m a coffee and tea snob. Not by name brand, but the flavor, smoothness, color, etc. are of utmost importance to me. Rich and smooth, not bitter. I’m very particular that way.
90. With regard to cars and things mechanical. I used to change my own oil. I even changed out a starter. Twice.
91. My name is on a patent as a co-inventor. (Not because of my own initiative, but my lead began the submission process on a project which he, I, and one other person worked together on.)
92. It made the top ten inventions list that year. At the award ceremony, the vice-president, not knowing me from Jack, introduced me as Mister Squished Piggy. I was the only woman honored at that event.
93. I secretly enjoyed the smug feeling I experienced when his face turned beet red as he realized his faux pas.
94. I don’t like wastefulness.
95. I am very frugal. Most of the time. Except when I buy my husband things like a hot tub, a new truck, and an obscene big screen tv*. Call me sugar mama. Why is it that I can put out thousands of ‘crazy dollahs’ for something he wants with barely a blink of the eye, but I’ll interrogate him if he wants to order something that’s not on the dollar menu if we go through the McDonald’s drive thru And I’ll hmm and haw about buying myself anything, and research it to death, then feel guilty if I buy it, especially if it costs more than twenty bucks. What is wrong with me Puh-leeeeeeeze. *Okay. Those are all one time deals. Hot tub in lieu of honeymoon, which I regret getting, as I realize that I don’t like hottubs… Why Standing water, stagnating, all manner of who knows what lurking, growing in it. Sure, there are chemicals and treatments, but it’s still the same water. Ewwwwww. Not to mention the whole getting wet thing. Sometimes I don’t feel like getting wet. Hard to explain. The rest All part of my master plan to build the dream home in the state of my youth. He gets his wish list. I get mine. It’s all fair.
96. I recycle.
97. I compost.
98. I love books. The look, the smell, the feel. Hardbound is best. Leather hardbound is bestest.
99. I have the complete Oxford English Dictionary, 12 volumes plus supplement, first edition, second printing.
100. I like disco. (Who ever admits to that one !) It’s fun!!

I’m in the process of moving from Blogger to WordPress.  I’m moving at a snail’s pace, but so far, if I just follow the instructions carefully, things seem to work.  Almost.

I recently met with a coworker to discuss, um, work stuff. I knew him by name, having worked with him in the past, but I couldn’t recall his face, and vice versa. So we met in person, and he brought me up to speed on the work stuff. The thing is, his eyes kept darting from my eyes to my hair. It’s not like my silver streaks are blinding, or anything, and I admit, I’m not one to keep up with things like haircuts and color updates. But come on. It’s rude! Maybe one glance would be okay. It wouldn’t bug me (much). I might not even mind a chiding comment, like, say, “Looks like project X is taking it’s toll on you, har har har.” I might come up with some wry and witty retort, and that would be that. But to keep darting from my eyes to my hair to my eyes to my hair. Again, I say, how rude! That was the first meeting. The second was with the rest of the team. (It’s a special assignment task force, oh so very important, yeah, yeah, right, unh-hunh, yeah.) Ahem. During this meeting He calls me Jan. Being new to the team, and considering we were teleconferencing with people from across the country, I at first thought he was talking to someone else, not in the room. But I realized that 1) I am the only woman on this team, and therefore 2) he was speaking to me. Now I don’t know how one confuses Jan with Sueeeus… And during this meeting The steady-eye-contact-challenged team leader introduced me to the other team members in the room (who I already knew). One of them looked at me with unfeigned lack of recognition. Ummm, we worked in the same group and I sat two desks down from you (a few years ago), I reminded him. Ohhhhhh, he says, not completely convinced. I don’t think I look that much different. I did change my name though (having married Mr. Gadget), and that throws people off somewhat.

Blackbird is on a quest for a butter dish.Not too long ago I was also on a quest for the perfect butter dish. I ended up coveting one of these French crock thingies, and I eventually gave in to temptation and bought one. It’s nice, and the butter stays room temperature, but my butter still spoils because I don’t use it fast enough.
The butter goes in the bell, and the bell/lid sits on the bowl of water. The water makes a seal, supposedly keeping the butter fresh. Before this I had a square clear glass canister/stacking jar from IKEA that fit two sticks of butter perfectly, but, alas, in the nimble hands of Mr. Gadget, the lid got away one day, and shattered into many pieces. It was cute too. The lid had all these half sphere dimples impressed in the top. I don’t know if IKEA still makes them. I couldn’t find them in their on-line catalog. It was only about $3. C’est la vie.

We get the Sunday paper and use it to fill our recycle bin. Sometimes we look at the sale inserts. Once in a while we look at headlines. I used to do the crosswords, before the boy came along. But now… …in the hands of a one-year-old…
…it is great fun! Oh, what a mess a little boy can make.
Of course, there is usually more to a scene than first meets the eye.

There is a specific moment during the course of a cold where the post nasal drip has stopped its irritation and morphed into something else, where the nose has stopped running, if only temporarily, where the sneezes are at bay, where the sinus pressure is causing a sensation closer to dizziness than pain, a dizziness that is similar to that feeling one might get after a glass of wine, when you realize that your mouth is closed and you can breathe through your nostrils. A complete breath of air. It’s a moment of clarity. It feels like nothing else. It feels like bliss. It feels like zen. Like nirvana. It is peace. It is calm. At least, to someone who has a lifelong history of respiratory issues of one sort or another (though, thankfully, nothing serious). You exclaim to yourself, Oh! So this is what it feels like to breathe! Your mind races with excitement as you dream of how good it would feel to be able to breathe this way all the time. How energizing, to have that much oxygen at one’s disposal! And then the moment passes.

We have a new world order around Chez Squished. The boy is sleeping alone. Through the night. All night. In his own room. Without a bottle. A moment is in order to digest the magnitude of this fantastic milestone. Of course, measures have been taken to make this come about. It’s been a journey, beginning with the decision, for safety’s sake, to put him in his own room, followed by a fairly successful first night. We learned that the tension style safety gate in his doorway makes him feel too abandoned or trapped. I found a set of Kidco safety gates on Craigslist for a bargain, and we now have a very secure stairwell. I’ve put tension gates in the doorways of the other rooms, and left his room open, and my room open. He now has a free path to our room should he need it, if he wakes up afraid. Simply having an open doorway has done wonders for his perception of things. And, since I’m married to Mr. Gadget, we now have the child on nighttime surveillance.
The camera is mounted so that I have a full view of my munchkin all snug as a bug in a rug. Mr. Gadget claims to have had these gadgets all along (the usual story), and is just retrieving them from the places where he’s had them squirreled away. I do know that he won the mini DVD player in a company raffle, so that gadget is legit. The others Not so sure. But I’m not complaining. In my sleepy stupor I can press a button and check in on my sleeping munchkin. I can see if he’s scooted his way out of his blankets or if he’s scooted himself into the corner. Tomorrow is our first Saturday with this arrangement, which means I can sleep in (or at least pretend to). I’m looking forward to seeing if he wakes up happy and comes looking for me, or if he stops to play with his toys along the way.

(*Updated to add Mr. Gadget)
Today, Blackbird asks to see our eyes.
These are the eyes to be looking at. Blue, beautiful blue.
He gets them from his dad. But the hint of almond he gets from me.
These are mine, complete with Cleopatra drag queen makeup, especially for the photo. I don’t really wear that much eye shadow on a normal day. One color is Copper by Naturistics, from the dollar store. The other is Big Bang by Urban Decay, a whole lot more than a dollar, from Sephora. The freaky halo light reflection (from the makeup mirror) is a nice touch too, yes I’m looking forward to seeing other blogger’s eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul, you know.

Somebody at work has launched a weight loss challenge. It lasts 12 weeks and participants submit $40 to the pool along with a weight loss goal anywhere between 12 and 36 pounds. At the end, those who have met their goal get their money back. Those who haven’t don’t. What remains in the pool is split among those who have met their goal.

What the heck. I’m in. Some of the guys are talking about loading up on water right before the weigh-in. They are speaking of a weigh-in, but I’m banking on the honor system. It’s almost unbearably humiliating to step on the scale at the doctor’s office. In front of coworkers I.Don’t.Think.So.

I think I’ve gained 10-12 pounds since I shut down the milk factory. I’m somewhat amazed by that. Nothing in my lifestyle changed besides that, and whomp, there it is. Yes, I tend to be stressed out a good deal of the time. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know that I need to learn how to manage stress better. I know.

I’m signing up for 18 pounds.