Goliath

*sigh* How I love this ugly, snorty, stinky little manimal that is our pug, Goliath (AKA: Golly).

Unfortunately, he's camera shy... harrrumph...

Hey. Golly. Look at me.

Goliath... I'm over here buddy!

*sigh* I give up.
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*strange silence*



*heavy breathing coming from behind me*
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"Hellooooo Clarice.... fffthpthpthtpbbbb"







*insert photo of me falling off my chair*








He thinks he's SOOOOO funny.

Boredom...

I'm no photographer but the hullabaloo about Lightroom made me want to grab the trial version and see what I can do. I found out that I really like MAKING presets!

I had a lot of fun making this little lady called "Glaucoma". Yes yes, "Way to make fun of the vision impaired.", you say. Oh well. I love it.

And, as with all presets, you'll probably have to tinker a bit... but enjoy! GRAB IT HERE!

'n' whatnot

I notice that the older I get, the more I incorporate "'n' whatnot" into my daily speech and writing. Or should I say... 'n' whatnot.

Grocery list:
Spaghetti 'n' whatnot (translation: noodles, some Prego [don't judge me], fresh garlic, maybe a new stock pot since mine was recently used for some sort of testosterone-based experiment, some snazzy spaghetti-makin' shoes and a matching spaghetti-makin' purse [what?!]... stuff like that)

Note to my husband:
I love you 'n' whatnot (translation: I love you even though you're the only one who can't find the hamper or the dirty clothes pile should the hamper be out of commission)

BFF: What are you up to?
Me: Watching TV 'n' whatnot (translation: Watching TV and talking to you, retard... what else would I be doing??)

I could be super cool like my grandma though... her speech "filler" is "and that and that"... but said with unnatural fluidity that 1) makes it sound like 1 word and 2) makes you do a double take like 30 seconds later, "Oh snap, wtf was that?" My grandma is a ninja that way.

I love my grandma 'n' whatnot.

Translation... I'm done.

Going emo for a second

Alright so... DH's hours and wage at work was cut so we've been working with... no, FIGHTING with... our mortgage company to get them to cut us a break. They'd say yes and then no and then yes and then "talk to so-and-so" and then referrals to government programs and then no and then yes... you get my drift. So finally, everyone says "No." We qualify for nothing... there is no help to be found, which leaves us no choice but to let our house slip away. Our first house together. OUR house.

But this is going on everywhere around us, then slum lords buy the stuff up and rent them out to whoever has money (whether of their own or not) and the crime rate has skyrocketed. 2 years ago, this was a beautiful neighborhood rich with culture but not clashing cultures... now there are gang wars around us. But this is OUR house damnit! We poured our hearts and souls into this house along with our blood, sweat, and tears... we were making this house our own. Nevermind that outside our walls, there is chaos and violence. Nevermind that I was forced to enroll Minky in a school outside of this district because this school is a dump. Nevermind that our property is vandalized, we're terrorized by loose dogs, and distant gun shots have become a regular part of our soundscape.

Nevermind all this.

This. Is. Sparta.

Errm... I mean... Our house.

I was at peace with the fact that we'd have to leave the first house we called ours when we thought that was the answer months ago. But then I've ridden this emotional rollercoaster that is the unknown. Yes' and no's... never any definitive plans.

But then it came a couple days ago.

We leave.

We pull up the roots we've set and we leave for a better overall life. Sure, we're probably moving in with my brother-in-law. Sure, we won't own a house of our own for a long time. But we could let the kids play in the yard without having to be hawked over. We could go for walks after dark if we so pleased. The kids can go to a GOOD SCHOOL down the road. We would have more money to do the things we want to do (ie: have another baby perhaps). Life will be good again. I won't have to worry about my worry lines (which, incidently, only causes more worry lines. Go figure).

It's out in the country where people have mostly the same ideals and goals and values as we do. But, in being out in the country, it's far from DH's work... far from my family... far from Walmart. OH GOD! Won't somebody PLEASE think of Walmart here!? I can cope with it all... but DH having to stay overnight a couple times per week to avoid the long drive home is going to be the hardest. It's for the best though. For all of us. But our house... with its gorgeous woodwork and leaded windows and the pantry to die for... But it's best. It's best. It's best...

*sigh*

Our house.

I kill-t her.

Photo by: lockstockb @ stock.xchng


So I killt her. No, I didn't put a traditional Scottish man-skirt on her.... I killt her.

Who?

The namby-pamby me. That's who.

I'm tired of looking in the mirror and vomiting a little in my mouth. I have been for a very long time. And what did I do about it? Nothing.

Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the very definition of insanity. Which makes me... certifiable.

So, I'm eating right... cut back my sugars and refined crap, eating more fresh junk... I'm being mindful of my portions... but most importantly, I'm moving my flabby derierre. I started Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred yesterday. I must admit, I'm in a fairly decent amount of pain today but I intend to keep pushing forward.

Like she says, it doesn't come for free.

I don't own a scale... nor do I have any inclination to purchase one. I get a tad OCD about it (okay, a lot) and it ends up being counterproductive. So it's all about how I feel when I look in the mirror.

In case you're wondering, yes, I'll be gauging it by how much I vomit.

Today I'm feeling 4 out of 5 mouthfuls. I'm usually a 5... so hey, progress already! *thumbs up*

The death of me.

I've always had something of a girl-crush on Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. She's the reason I lust for a DSLR camera of my own, dontchaknow.

My very own. One day.

My precious.

Preeecioussss.

*blank stare*

*blinking*

Oy, I went a little Gollum there, my apologies.


Anyhoo, so yeah, she's witty and random and heartwarming and NORMAL! NORMAL I SAYS! Well alright, normal is a subjective term so let's say "down-to-earth" shall we? Because if she's normal... then I am too and we all know that I'm about as normal as a $2 bill.

And off I went again. So yeah... after a loooong time of stalking following her blog, I realized that I'd never clicked through to her recipes.

Well...

Mother of God, her and her contributors' recipes bring me to my knees in worship. Well not worship, the extra 20 lbs I've put on have finally taken their toll on my weak wittle legs, but we'll say worship because it sounds less creepy. Or is it the other way around? *shrug* Oh well.

So yeah, she'll be the death of me with her wonderfully wanton use of butter, salt, and all the other beautiful things that make my weight loss buddy cringe and attempt to stage interventions. (As a side note, all that butter Ree uses is exceptionally useful when escaping said intervention. Lube up, slip out. Oooh that was so accidentally dirty. I love it.)

And with that, I've forgotten the reason for which I started this blog entry and am off to make her apple dumplings (which include Mt. Dew in the recipe... so yeah... you know how I roll.)

God grant me strength.

Happy Mother's Day.

Sorry... the embed was too big.

Mother's Day Video

Oh and she swears a little so maybe not kid-friendly ;)

Just a photo

Greta listens better to Minky than me! LOL! She does have an unreal connection with animals though.