I am Joe the Plumber!!!!

Holy Smokes!!!

So I signed up for the McCain for president newsletters some time ago. I really wanted him for president in 2000.

At any rate, this past weekend they sent out a request for Ohioans to send in their "Joe the Plumber" story. I read that, and decided to stop working and pound out an abbreviated version of my last 3 years. You know, how I worked my data entry job, ran an internet business, and babysat a little boy for 50 hours a week, while taking care of my kids and home all the while I was in horrible kidney pain for which we had no answers. I could have taken social security disability but did not, because I could function and I had a responsibility to my family.......

I got a call tonight from the campaign asking me to come the rally here in Capital City on Friday and sit in the VIP section with the real Joe the Plumber. I might even get a chance to meet McCain and Schwarzenegger!!!!!

No matter if you're an evil Rethuglican like me, or the other guys, you gotta admit that is pretty exciting.

I think if I meet them I'll tell 'em that if our next baby is a boy, we'll name him John Ahhhnold.

I'm so excited. And I signed up for NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. It's a challenge to write a 50,000 word Novella during the month of November. You can read more about it here: www.nanowrimo.com

What a whirlwind week this has been!!!!


Here is my "Joe the Plumber Story":

I do not believe in "Spreading the Wealth" by taking from the successful and giving to those that are not. That is basically another form of Welfare, which does nothing but create the sense of entitlement.

I work 30+ hours a week at my home doing data entry, while I care for my two children (and now discovered, one on the way!) AND for the past 2 1/2 years, I babysat a friend's son 50 hours a week on top of caring for my own children and working.

Would I like to stay home and keep house and be the perfect June Cleaver mother? Of Course! But pretty much my entire income covers our tax load, so in order to realize my husband's full income, and thus pay all our bills (including our mortgage) and putting food on the table and clothes on our back, I NEED to work.

For the past 3 1/2 years I've battled excruciatingly painful kidney stone disease, endured over 15 operations, spent most of that time on pain meds that would normally have someone passed out. AND I still did my job, took care of my kids, and someone else's AND volunteered at our church AND foster basset hounds for Ohio Basset Rescue. My condition was finally diagnosed at The Mayo Clinic in August 2008 as an exceedingly rare syndrome that has affected less than 300 people.....ever. An autotransplant of my right kidney was done, (my left one was partially removed in October 2007) and I am back to work and recovering from an Achilles tendon repair (thanks to Cipro).

I was within my rights to declare disability, go home and lay in bed, waiting for my government check, let my kids run wild, or dump them on others. People have remarked over the years that they don't understand how I manage. I tell them "because I have to". It is my RESPONSIBILITY to care for my family and to help provide for them. How can appreciate the things that I have unless I have earned them? Why should someone else have to support me when I am able to pull my own load? I had these children, chose the house, bought those cars, why should I look to others to pay for my own choices?

Obama's rhetoric smacks of communism. Look at how the socialist system in Russia worked out. Look at people who have been on government assistance for years and years. If I can work through all I have been through, why can't someone else?

During this time, I also opened a small internet store specializing in cloth diapers (my son was allergic to disposable chemicals, plus they are more economical). I have yet to turn a profit, but I worked hard during all that time when I could have just dropped everything. (www.diapersnthings.com)

"Spreading the Wealth" should never be mandated by Washington. We share our wealth with our church, with volunteering in the community, with giving back AS WE SEE FIT AND AS WE CAN AFFORD. Higher taxes are only going to create even more resentment and hardship for people who have pride in themselves and enough self respect to work and earn their way. It will only encourage those with less-than-driven work ethics to sit back and take, take, take, without ever giving back. That is not only sad and wrong, it's very un-American.

It feels good just to get this off my chest. I never sat around crying "why me" or "look at all that I have to do". I stayed the course and did what I had to do, because I could, should and would. Thanks.

BIG SURPRISE!!!!!

Well, ladies and lurkers, today was something amazing.

Woke up at 1am, came downstairs, finished off Ben and Jerry's Turtle Soup. Woke up to pee again at 4:30am. The most amazing, incredible, miraculous thing happened then.

I couldn't get back to sleep. So I got up and got ready to go to the Come-To-Jesus-Meeting with the Evil Overlord, which is never as bad as I anticipate.

The amazing, incredible, miraculous thing happened 5 more times today, each time the same exact thing.

It's so incredible, I'm just in shock. Super G is elated, similar to when we thought we won the lottery and had nouveau-riche porn dreams for a while. (okay, so that really didn't happen, but it could have, or maybe that was me and the Ex)

Anyway, God has shined upon me, as if to say "I grow wearing with smiting you, I am now pleased with you.....be happy"

So tomorrow, my other day off work, I have to take Banjo the Basset Hound in for his annual shots and such. Jessi the Aussie was in on Monday because she dragged her back legs for a bit, her hip dysplasia and arthritis in her hips and back has gotten worse. They gave me Equine glucosamine pellets to give her, more Previcox, Tramadol, and ear meds. $300 later the dog that hates me is feeling much better. So much that she's blowing her coat all over the bed and floor and my clothes, little remnants of her furriness to have with me...........Everywhere.

Anyway, I just had to tell y'all about the miracle that happened today..........

well, perhaps I needed to tease y'all, maybe tomorrow I'll fill you in.


or not.....

Bwaaaa haaaa haaaa haaaa

musings.....

Been back to work for a week now. Two weeks ago, I fell and fractured my tailbone. Does anyone know how much that hurts? A lot. And it hurts to sit, which I do for my job. I bought an inflatable donut thing, but it wasn't made for people with real asses, so it doesn't help much.

The heating pad works amazingly well, until my butt gets so hot I feel as though I'm sitting on a campfire.

Super G is doing homework with Bug. Thank God. I have no patience for that. And it's cool because then I can run interference with Buddy and she can concentrate, a bit.

So, I'm thinking, about my Evil Rethuglican status. I liked McCain in 2000, but we got W instead. Now he's back, but he's so much more creepy and nasal and centrist. Up until the convention, I was conflicted about who to vote for.

Then along comes Caribou Barbie. Sarah Barracuda. I like her, if for nothing more than she's not a career politician, she's a Boy Scout, a True Believer. And she's hot. That helps.

Can't say the same about Slow Joe....wooog.

I got nothing to really say tonight. I made it through a week of work, and have already been called in for a conference on shit I did wrong before I went on leave...... Whatever. I fucking hate this part of the job, review the err of your ways and atone for your sins, be contrite and repentant....blah blah blah.

Going back to work

So, here it is the last Sunday of rest. The last day of no pressure, the last day.....before I go back to work.

I got a call on Friday, at 4:30pm, telling me that if I don't go back to work by this coming Wednesday, I'm terminated. How nice. Since I'm part-time, I'm only eligible for 60 days of FMLA. Oh, the lowly part-time employee, how you are so needed and so mistreated all at the same time. Whatever, the fuckers.

So I'll get my doctor's release and go back to work. I'm hoping that my current precarious mental state can withstand the insanity. It is a very, very negative environment that I work in, where each and every error that you make is brought to your attention, but no one ever thinks twice about telling you when you've done a good job. I guess that is most places anymore, but still. I had hopes of being a great American Writer or the perfect June Cleaver Stay-At-Home Mom type person, with perfect hair, a string of pearls and tasty dinner on the table when my family is hungry.

Instead, I'm a data entry worker who can only cook from the directions on the box, most days I don't shower and for the past two months, Super G has done all the parenting.

So I'm watching TV with Buddy, and I really have a bone to pick with the Nick Jr people. Max and Ruby:


Where are their fucking parents? What kind of Grandma lets those kids live alone in that house and then gives Max fucking ice cream for breakfast??? So Ruby is this bossy 7 year old that keeps a clean house and takes good care of Max, and has a garden and a manicured lawn and she always manages to have tea parties, or Bunny Scout Parties. I am almost 38 years old and I can't do any of that!!!!! How dare Nick Jr. show me up with a 7 year old bunny. Poor Max, growing up with absent parents and a bossy sister...... Or perhaps poor Bug and Buddy, for having a mom that can't do what any juvenile rabbit can.

Super G is trying to get the kids upstairs into the shower, and suddenly I hear this song "I'm running with my scrotum in my hand.....This is to protect it throughout the land"

I am going to stay in here. I really don't want to know, but they were all running around and laughing, so I feel no need to interfere. Buddy took a 3 hour nap today, so he'll be partyin' until midnight while Bug is crying hysterically, perhaps because she has no scrotum to hold while she runs, I don't know. Who knows why 7 year olds cry and scream, for the drama of it all I guess.

Now they're playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide whether it is a shower or a bath, no matter what, one of them is going to be angry. He likes to shower, she likes to bathe, and neither Super G nor I feel like running the water twice. At some point, they're going to be too old to bathe together.....and the girl just lost two out of three......the screaming has begun. I could go help out, but, well, her performance keeps ratcheting upwards, if I stay down here, she could be Oscar-worthy before she gets into the shower, at which point she won't want to get out. This is the dichotomy of childhood. No! No! don't put me in the clean, clean water......NO! NO! don't take me out of the now dirty water!

I should go up and help him out, lend moral support or something.

What girls talk about.......really

Been gone for a while. Sorry. Rita came for a visit....."hi mom" I survived, my children wore them out. I even bought a swimsuit and wore it to the hotel pool, in front of her. and I might add, I think I looked better than she did too (granted she's over 60, but I'll take it)

Had my Achilles Tendon repaired last week. Not very painful, not bad at all. BUT the recovery is one class A stone cold BITCH. Leg fixed Wednesday afternoon, that evening I hobbled to church with the kids because their bickering and fighting was driving me nuts, why rest? The next day, at the top of the stairs, getting ready to sit on my butt and scoot down, I slipped, fell backward and bashed my head on the marble windowsill. Blood was everywhere. A trip to the ER later determined a mild concussion and a little laceration that garnered me two staples.

Then Sunday I fell at church, once again unsteady on my crutches. Fractured my tailbone and sprained my wrist. Also hissed four of the seven words you can't say on television (God Bless you George Carlin) as a crowd of wingtips, knees and crotches gathered around me. After a very emphatic "fuck" the slacks owned by my pastor had some smartass comment about my newness to crutches. Whatever, mortified and hurt....yet again... we went to the ER where the Dr ordered me a walker.

So I'm housebound, getting out and about sucks when you can't bear weight on both your feet. It hasn't even been a week and I feel myself getting lonely and weird. Buddy runs wild in the afternoons, because he knows by the time I get to him to stop what he's doing, he'll be able to escape and go onto something else.

So I started thinking today, bad thing really, but I was thinking about what girls talk about. And I wonder if some of my friends are the way I am, meaning, that I blurt out almost whatever the hell I want to with some friends, and with others, I keep that stuff under wraps and then they're shocked when they hear me in my natural state, or read this blog. I have a friend that I've not talked to in a long time, but we can always pick up where we left off. I miss talking to her. She's the best. So beautiful, and creative and artistic and the only person in the world I can discuss things such as pubic shaving with her while keeping a straight face. For what it's worth, thanks Babbs, the Seiko Cleancut works wonders......now that I can see what I'm doing yay no nicks, cuts or ingrowns.....wooo hooo!

And you see, guys can't talk about that kind of stuff. Lots of guys manscape, but most of them will deny it. They won't even go over the pros and cons of it Now, if I hadn't had this long ago discussion with Babbs , I would still be hacking myself to bits trying to smooth out the swimsuit line. Granted, I went a little further, but that is my prerogative, Super G doesn't mind so I guess I'll just see what my urologist has to say when I go in for my annual cystoscopy.

And speaking of Doctors, oh, no I think I won't speak of doctors right now. I'll save that for another time, it's a whole post in and of itself.

So what is it about women that makes them go out and seek interaction and community, while most guys would hole up in their caves and watch sports and war porn? There are days when the words in my head swirl and twirl and seem to crawl out of every pore of my being in an effort to be heard, to be expressed to be noticed. And then there are days where the words are there but I can't put them down, or don't want anyone to read them. And I think that is where I've been for a month. Not really anyone to talk to, struggling to recover and then nearly immobilized, it is easier for me to lay in bed all day, than get up and move around. I miss having friends to talk to sometimes.

oh well.

Was it "Rear Window" with Jimmy Stewart stuck in his apartment with a broken leg and he thinks he's seen a murder? I can empathize with that character now. This sucks.