The big Halloween party is tonight, so I'm looking forward to that. Karen is frantically knitting away at Bill's Harry Potter Griffindor scarf, and Stephanie's nails are black as death, so Halloween, here we come. I will take alot of pictures.

I think I get the little runt puppy, Bernard, back tomorrow from the vet. So it's going to be a bottle-feeding weekend for me.

The shower was fine yesterday; the lady was overwhelmed by all the presents and cake and all and cried several times. It really meant a great deal to her. I felt bad about being so negative and pissy beforehand.

Best of luck this weekend, also, to my friends Jesse and Anna, who are due TODAY with a baby boy, in Korea. Apparently, Anna is barely standing up, says Jesse. He has a little pumpkin hat waiting to pop on the baby's head, if the little dude would only come out.

Ciao.

Got the rest of my costume, sans elf ears. The chick at the party store offered me green ear tips (whatever. what am I? a vomiting Mr. Spock?), and apologized for the lack of normal ones. She said they ran out a month or two ago. I guess there are a lot of elves running around out there.

I've got yet ANOTHER work shower to attend today. A lingerie bridal shower. I swore the last one was the last shower, but I got guilted/sucked into this one. I am so sick of spending money on work associates. No, I take that back. If it felt to me like it was truly a voluntary event, I would probably give a gift, help decorate, etc. anyway. But it's not voluntary. It's Ellen Gets Assigned Decorations And Invitations As Well As Chipping in Toward A Gift. Well, this time I didn't chip in. I went and got her some panties.

You know, sometimes I think I would save money by staying at home. I wouldn't eat out for lunch so often. I wouldn't have to spend money on random "chip-in" gifts every couple of weeks. I wouldn't have to buy work clothes (not that I really do, but I probably should.) I wouldn't have to feel obliged to go to someone's birthday lunch and, of course, pay for my own.

Kyle and I are very hissy today. Our boss is in Hong Kong for two weeks, and he is sort of our Gate Keeper. People come running to us to solve little (or big) problems and do favors for them. Usually my boss is there so I can say, "Talk to Todd." Then, they run away like little mice because they are afraid of his temper (which thankfully, he doesn't take out on us, just them.) But he's not here. He's in China. So it's been a free-for-all for two weeks. The most obnoxious aspects of my co-workers personalities have raged forth. So Kyle and I are at our breaking point. Kyle has taken to making snide comments (nothing new there, just extra snide and louder) at anyone who steps foot in our cubicle. I just explode. "Hey, Ellen, can you-" "What? What?! What do you WANT?!!!" Even stupid stuff-- we are losing it. People come in to borrow our ruler and we chuck it at them.

Kyle and Stephanie are having the big Halloween party this weekend. I am really excited. I just love Halloween. No. I just love dressing up. Unfortunately, part of my costume was back ordered, then the company just canceled my order. So, Elwen, Warrior She-Elf, is not going to have any actual elf ears. Darn darn darn. Maybe I'll just rig up some Silly Putty.

Jason brought me home a stray cat last night. She is beautiful and so sweet! She's a Shaded Silver. Gorgeous. And she's a lap cat (which none of my other kitties are.) She is also pregnant, I think. She is so little, though. She's just a kitten herself. So, I guess I will keep her for awhile and let her have her babies and try to find homes for them. If anyone wants a kitten, let me know!

That book, Forgiving Our Parents, Forgiving Ourselves, is really good. I am learning that so much of this stems back to my grandparents. My grandfather, specifically. I really think that it's him that I need to forgive, in my heart. Through my childhood, my parents managed to stay fairly separated from my grandparents. We had our own little family life, and visited on holidays and a couple of times in between-- all of which were difficult, but they weren't constant. Then, when I went to college, my grandparents got sick, went into the nursing home, needed lots of care. That's when I felt abandoned by my mom. Everything was about my grandparents. And she just went on autopilot. She was like a zombie for several years there. Even after my grandparents died, they retained this emotional hold on everyone, because their house still stood there, filled to the brim with their "precious" things. Everyone felt guilty about getting rid of any of it, or even selling the house, so there it stood-- a shrine to them. In the past year or so, I haven't even been able to go in the house, I would get such overwhelming guilt from it. Not a good daughter. Not a good granddaughter.

But now it's gone. All the stuff has finally been sold, as has the house. But I still feel hurt, and I still feel resentful to my grandfather to what he demanded of my mom and her sisters. He demanded that she stay a child. He demanded that all of us stay children. And once I became a teenager, I began feeling resentful at all family occasions. Our family took a backseat to my mom's old family. That's not right, you know. Leave and cleave. Her loyalties should have been to us, not her parents. It didn't help that every time my sisters and I suggested that we go do something ELSE for Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving or whatever, it was told to us that, "Grandma and Papaw are getting old. They won't be with us for very much longer." Guilt. Guiltguiltguilt. Keep Ellen in line. Well, for FIFTEEN YEARS they said that to me.

Ugh. I hate guilt.

This weekend I fostered two little three week old puppies from the animal shelter. I had to bottlefeed them every four hours. I didn't even mind getting up at 3 in the morning. I named them Beatrice and Bernard. Beatrice is doing really well. She loved Squirrel and followed him around and even ate some of his dogfood. She'll probably be weaned by the end of the week. Bernard is a different story. He is the runt and still very small. He sleeps constantly, and is a little more difficult to feed. But he is my favorite. He is so absolutely pathetic. I think I may keep watching him for another week or so. He needs extra love.

My mom and sister came over on Saturday. We had a really good time, goofing around and feeding the puppies. See, that's the problem. I really like my mom when we are together. I want her to be around more and interested in my life. I want her to be involved. Argh. Why are relationships so complex and difficult?

I saw a very freaky movie this weekend. "28 Days Later." It's one of those movies where the images keep running through your head days after you've seen it. Very effective movie. I also watched "Bend It Like Beckham" which I had heard rave reviews about. It didn't really do it for me. Maybe because I have no use for sports. I don't feel passionate about any sport like that... I kept thinking, "Why doesn't she just obey her parents? It would make her life a whole lot easier." But then I thought, well, what if my parents had told me, "A proper lady does not draw cartoons." Yep. I would have disobeyed them. On the whole, though, I was a little disappointed in the movie. I didn't really feel anything toward the lead character. That's a big thing for me in movies. I have to relate to the lead. Or at least like him/her a whole lot. This girl was bland.

Jason and I went to Barnes and Noble last night to look for a good book for me. We found one called Forgiving Our Parents, Forgiving Ourselves. I know, I know...it sounds like one of those 1970's I'm Okay You're Okay touchy feely books. But it looks like exactly what I am needing. I was perusing it last night and stumbled across a section called "Disengaged Families." It fit my family to a tee. It said something about how these kinds of families have very strict boundaries with each other, but little to no boundaries with people outside the family. Also, there tends to be a family scapegoat. That is us! So, I'll read it and report back later.

Ugh. I feel nauseous. Welcome to Clomid, I guess. It's my fourth day on the stuff. Side effects: headaches, dizziness, moodiness, no appetite and nausea.

Here are some of my musings from my moody state:

My mom is around until Sunday. Not staying with me, but around the general area, selling my grandparent's old house. Jason gets flabergasted sometimes by the way that my family relates to each other. Sometimes I feel flabergasted, too, but I don't know how to change it. I feel like I've been trying to change it for ten years, but it's just not working, nor do I know if it ever will. I mean, I talked about all this stuff for a year or two in therapy, so I have all the head knowledge about why we work/worked the way we do, but...you know, whatever. Therapy only goes so far. Then you live your life. Change or no change.

My family is distant. I think that's the word that I've decided to call it. We're not "estranged" or anything. Anyone looking at my family would probably think we were the classic, cute American family. My dad is now a minister, my mom's a teacher, one sister is a freshman in college and the other is a counselor. There's nothing really wrong that I can put my finger exactly on, maybe because I am too close to it. I thought for a long time that I was crazy--I was just a perfectionist looking for problems with a normal family. Or that I was just a very independent person. But since high school, I've just had this uneasy feeling that we weren't the close family that everyone thought we were.

It all probably stems from the fact that both of my parents had alcoholic fathers. My mother's father went to AA and stayed there for 30 years, but never lost his controlling, overly-paternal nature. My father's controlling father just drank until his emphyzema got him at age 60. Nobody thought "alcoholic" until 30 years later when my dad suddenly thought, "Hmmmmmmm." But again, I don't really know how this relates to the rest of us, only that I've seen other adult children and grandchildren of alcoholics and have identified with the distantness in their lives.

Maybe you learn from an early age, "Don't get too involved." That's kind of how I've felt my parents have regarded me for about ten years now. They are afraid of me. Afraid of getting too involved in my life. My mother sent me four letters in college. They rarely call. I think that my youngest sister has taken to hypochondria to get attention. Sometimes I want to scream, "Get involved! Love me!" Sometimes, though, I fear I am becoming the same way. Do I call them? No. I don't even think about it. Even when big things happen in my life. I just forget. Then when we do talk, I have to force myself to stay on the phone, and not come up with a fake reason to get off. And why? I have no idea. Usually the conversation is pleasant, albeit filled with my mom's constant nagging. Sometimes they will call and talk to Jason for awhile, then say they don't really need to talk to me. Which Jason can't believe, but then looks over and sees the look of relief on my face.

Jason shakes his head at me. "Why don't you call your parents more? Why don't you go visit your sister at college? If my family was this close, I would hang out with them all the time!" And he would. But it's just different with his family. I feel different with them. They feel like a normal family to me. They argue. They fight. They play. They shop. They kayak. Heck, I would like his family to be closer.

I love my family, and I feel overwhelming guilt for feeling all this stuff. Constantly feeling like I am letting them down- not being a good daughter. Not that they've ever said anything like that, mind you! But it's this big bug in my head. And I fear that I am this distant with everyone in my life. And I don't want to be this way with my own children someday. It would be awful to have my own daughter breathe a sigh of relief after she gets off the phone with me.

Maybe this is all normal for someone my age, but I just don't feel like it is.

I think I have a home for Lazarus, my foster cat! After a few failed attempts at adopting him out, I was resigned to having him live with us permanently (which is fine with me, since I love him, but Jason was still trying to put his foot down.) But I am taking him to a guy on Friday that sounds like the perfect match. He'll have to be declawed, which I am generally opposed to, but if it means he'll have a great home and long life, then fine. Declaw away.

The day has just flown by today. That is one good thing about being a working non-mother woman-- when you are really busy at work, you can look up and suddenly, it's time to go home and relax. Nothing else to do except fold some laundry and scoop the cat litter. It's a nice feeling. I don't even have to worry about dinner tonight because Jason is working late. Except that I just realized that my mother is lurking around the area for the next few days so I'd probably better find her.

It was a pretty good day. I managed to have a nice balance between productivity and recuperation. Laundry was done, but between spats of laying on the bed, reading magazines. One thing that is good is that I ventured out to McDonald's at lunchtime, while my pregnant friend, Stephanie, took a nap on my couch. What's good about it is that I got dizzy and nauseous as soon as I left the house, so I totally don't feel bad about staying home today. My husband generally regards me as a wuss, though.

I went to my friend's wedding on Saturday. She is also my sister's roommate. I had had a few qualms about the marriage at first because they jumped into it so quickly-- they have known each other less than a year. I have known quite a few people who also attempted such a feat and had very rocky first years of marriage. One couple friend actually had her parents suggest they get a divorce. They didn't, though.

Anyway, it was a very nice wedding and I think they will probably do fine. They are in love, and seem to be pretty compatible. It was one of those weddings where people were truly celebrating the couple being together. Half the people I work with attended or were involved with the wedding or planning of it. I have been to weddings where you could tell people were like, "I give this a year. Tops." or "What does she SEE in that guy?" But this one was a geniunely festive wedding.

I'm at home today. I was really sick yesterday with some stomach thing. I still don't feel up to snuff today...probably because everything within me was eliminated yesterday. I'm a little shakey. Jason was very very sweet to me yesterday. He even went and bought me Futurama Season Two on DVD to watch. I also watched all of E's 101 Juiciest Hook-Ups between my frequent runs to the bathroom. Number one was Bennifer, of course. Bleh. You know, I would have put Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. But they were like number fifteen. The list was definitely slanted toward the late nineties. They seemed to forget most couples before, say, 1991, and I'm sure there was lots of juice before then.

It's nice to have lots of warm snuggly animals when you are sick. At one point, Jason walked in and all five animals were either on top of me or in the general premises.

Now I am trying to figure out what to do with my day. I've got this darned German Protestant work ethic. I feel really weird not being at work. I feel well enough to be walking around so I feel guilty about being at home. The Mother in my head says "Go back to bed and drink liquids and watch Futurama." (which isn't so far away, as my mum called me last night and told me that very thing.) But the other part of me says, "Go do laundry, you lazy bum."

I think I'll listen to my Mother.

Well, my husband saw the Walmart slip yesterday for the pregnancy tests I'd bought. The proverbial shit hit the fan. "Sixteen dollars?! These things cost SIXTEEN DOLLARS?!" He thought they were like a buck. Which they are if you get them at the Dollar Tree (and they work fine-- Steph tested positive on the one that I had skeptically bought there.) But I went back and the piles and piles of pregnancy tests that the Dollar Tree had invested in were no more. I guess women just swoop them up when they have them in.

So anyhow, he said, "NO MORE, WOMAN! When a baby pops out nine months later, we'll know you're pregnant." He still doesn't know about the last box that I stashed away. Ha ha. I am a pregnancy test junkie. You know you are when you take two at once, just to make sure. I just got an email from a new friend of mine, though, and she said that she had been the same way and the store kept restocking them because of her. They thought that there had been a run on tests, but it was just her. She's nine months pregnant now, so that's hopeful.

The sixteen dollar one I bought was one of those digital ones from Clear Blue Easy. I don't like them, I've decided. For one thing, they are really expensive. They come with three strips that you pee on, then insert into a little digital reader. Two of my strips said "Error" possibly because I peed on it too much. Or too little. I have no idea. The last said, "NOT PREGNANT" which I found a bit harsh. Couldn't it say, "NOT PREGNANT BUT YOU ARE STILL A GOOD PERSON."? Or even, "TRY AGAIN."? "TRY AGAIN" at least gives you a bit of hope or incentive.

Today is Boss's Day. Which is another thing that I've decided I don't like. Let's be honest. EVERY day is Boss's Day. They make more money than us and get to tell us what to do. Then they have a whole day and we are all supposed to spend our hard earned money buying them a cake and taking them out to lunch.

Here is my new verse that I posted on my computer: "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Do you know how freaking hard this is to do? I've always had such a problem with this. I am a very critical person...I wouldn't say "negative" necessarily, just "critical." It is so hard for me to let a critical remark pass by. If I know that someone is making a stupid decision (of course, just my opinion that it's stupid), I just can't let the opportunity go to rail on about it. It is so HARD to clamp my mouth shut and not say exactly what is happening in this nasty little head of mine. That's another thing. My other verse is: "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." This is even MORE difficult. It's one thing to shut your mouth and not say all the mean hateful things going on in your head, it's another thing to not even have them.

Kindness and compassion and forgiveness are the most beautiful things. They are also the biggest struggle every day to achieve.

Doesn't appear that I am pregnant this month. Oh well. On to another month! A better month! Yes...a Clomid month!

Just kidding. Actually, I am in a surprisingly good mood today. The sun is shining, I've got my favorite red sweater on, and by golly, if I want a swig of whiskey, then I can go have one. I can also ride a roller coaster, take Advil, sit in a Jacuzzi, eat sushi or wrestle a crocodile. All this because I am not pregnant. Actually I was reading an article about Terry Irwin, wife of the crocodile hunter, and she wrestled crocodiles until she was like seven months pregnant. Won't be doing that.

So, I tested again this morning. I could swear that I saw a really faint line. HOWEVER, it was facing the wrong way from the direction the box said it was supposed to go AND THEN it disappeared five minutes later! Typical. This sort of thing is exactly the sort of thing that happens to me. I'll probably have a baby someday that comes out sideways. Then disappears.

Any opinions are welcome.

My boobs feel like they are going to pop off my body. Kaboom. Right here, in the middle of the office. Is it the progesterone? Am I pregnant? I think it's just the progesterone. I tested negative this morning. And I have these cramps in my tummy that feel like I've been running a mile. Again, probably just the progesterone.

I know you guys really want to know all of this. Well, to heck with you, it's my blog and I'll tell you my bodily woes if I want to.

Jason and I went and saw "Kill Bill" this weekend, that Quentin Tarantino film. It was the bloodiest movie I've ever seen. I left the theater with the same feelings that I had after I saw "Pulp Fiction" for the first time.... that I'd just seen something completely unique and brilliant and I'd loved it, and yet I had a very guilty and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. If you get queasy at seeing heads lopped off and geysers of blood shooting like a volcano from their necks, by all means, do NOT see this movie.

The weekend is truckin' along. Just woke up from a two hour nap. I don't know why I do this on Sundays, because then I can't get to sleep at night and I'm a crab on Monday morning. But it feels so good!

Went to church this morning, sans husband. He stayed home and cleaned the house. He said to me, "You go get us spiritual, I'll get us clean." I rolled my eyes, but didn't give him a guilt trip. Life is much easier when you give up on the guilt trips. Church was really good for me. I've written about my love of communion before, and today I just needed it. I just feel better. The sermon was pretty good. The pastor gives these long sermons that kind of meander around, but he always says something at some point in the sermon that hits home for me, so it keeps me on my toes to wade through the rest of it with him.

Some friends of ours stopped by our house last evening and hung out with us for a couple of hours. We used to be really good friends with them while we were dating and in the beginning of our marriage. But there was always this competitive edge to our relationship, and we started distancing ourselves. Then they had a tragedy, and we tried to be there for them, but it just felt like everything we said was wrong. They moved a couple of towns over, so we rarely see them, but I still feel like they are our friends. Anyway, they stopped by with their 10 month old daughter last night, and we all had a really good time. I truly don't feel competitive with her anymore. Not a bit.

I realized something about them that was probably always there, but I never saw. They offer their unsolicited opinions ALOT. Never seeing this before, I guess I always felt an unplaceable feeling of judgement from them. But after placing it in the beginning of the evening last night, I just kept an eye out for it the rest of the time, and disregarded a number of comments. It made the evening alot more pleasant for me. He said some insensitive comment about the color of my living room, like, "Oh, so you probably haven't painted this room since you moved in-- I can't see you picking out this color." I caught it and thought, "Just his opinion." Then I said, "No. This is the color I chose." He did a wee bit of backtracking at that point. Kind of fun to see him squirm.

No Simpsons on tonight. Stupid baseball. Bleh. Shoot. I just remembered I have a DVD that was supposed to be returned last Wednesday. Double bleh.

My secret porn star name is Betsy Lou Digby. What you do is take the name of your first dog (or cat, as the case may be) and add it to the name of the street that you grew up on (if it was boring like "Route 2, Box 78" then you can change it to the street you are on now.)

Anyway, that is how you come up with your secret porn star name.

I have been taking progesterone to lengthen my luteal phase (technical fertility stuff.) I think I have written about it before. Anyway, it makes me CRAZY. Seriously, it's like the worst day of PMS for 14 straight days. And it also causes me to have symptoms that are supposedly similiar to early pregnancy symptoms. My breasts hurt, little twinges in my uterus, mood swings, a little nauseous. It's very psychological-- I keep second-guessing my body. "Huh? Is that the progesterone or am I really pregnant? Did I experience this last month? Am I just going insane?!" And since I have limited willpower when it comes to pregnancy testing, I will start trucking myself over to the bathroom to pee on a stick WAY too early. There's no way it will show anything positive, but off I go anyway, because I feel like if I don't, I may very well explode.

Basically I can't trust my body (including my emotions, due to the increased irritability toward everyone) for two weeks.

My husband figured out how to change my colors! Cool, huh? He is a Fiddler. He can fiddle with anything until it works. It's one of the reasons that I married him. I'm lazy and I don't like doing things for myself.

The sun came out yesterday, so my mood has greatly lifted. I was driving to work, today, considering the town that I live in. It's a very nice little town. It's got a little university, pretty parks, gazebos, lots of trees, old homes, walking trails. It's safe. There are lots of nice, caring people here. There is a little art center that does little plays every couple of months. There is even a little family of ducks that lives downtown. There are signs up that say "Duck Crossing" and when the ducks decide to cross the street, everything stops for them. There's also a crazy man that hangs out downtown and waves at everyone in their cars, and everyone waves back.

What is the point of me saying all this? Sometimes, it's BORING. But it's good. So, maybe the good things in life are boring. Just a theory that I'm developing.

I got a new jean jacket.

[side story: when I was in Junior High, jean jackets were the status symbol. I didn't have one when they were cool. I was too scared to ask my parents for one because they were all about me not conforming and being like "the crowd." Secretly, I would have given anything to own a Guess jean jacket. And a Swatch watch. And big bangs. A couple of years later, when everyone was getting brown leather coats, Mom happened to pick me up a jean jacket. Except that it was bulky and practical and had flannel lining inside. Not cool at all. Very soon after I took it to the Salvation Army and never told my mother.]

Anyway, I got this jean jacket, which is what I always wanted. No lining. The perfect length. Already worn looking. Jason complimented me on it, then looked at me and said, "The reason you aren't stylish, Ellen, is that you are going to wear that jacket everyday as a jacket and not an accessory." I thought about that, and it's true. I asked my very fashionable friend, Stephanie, about her jean jacket situation and she told me, a bit sheepishly, that she owned about five, plus corderoy jackets and leather jackets, and she matches them to her clothes for the day. But that's the difference. I am too damn practical to be stylish.

I mean, I know the basic stuff. Don't wear pink with red. Don't wear navy with black. If you tuck your shirt in, wear a belt. Match your belt to your shoes. If you are wearing black, take a black purse (I rarely follow that one, out of sheer laziness.) I was informed in college, by my friend Darla, that you should never ever, under any circumstances, wear brown hose. Not a problem for me, as I hate wearing the stuff anyway, but it was still enlightening.

But the rest of it, I'm kind of clueless. Sometimes my sister Karen will stop me and say, "You really shouldn't be wearing those pants anymore." I will look down and it's like Paul in the Bible, seeing again, after that dude rubs mud all over his eyes. I look at my pants and say, "Holy cow. How did this get so BAD?" Or Jason will say, "Please don't ever wear that shirt in public again." My response is usually, "But it's comfortable!" And he says, "Wear it in bed, then."

The real problem, if it is one, is that I truly truly don't care. I would much rather spend my money on art supplies or McDonald's. So there it is.

I hate this weather. I am totally bleh. It's wet, chilly and gray. I am in a crabby mood. People are really irritating me. I hate it when I hear my name being said in someone's conversation. Such as, "Talk to Ellen. She could probably help you with that." Especially when they say my last name and mispronounce it. (My last name is difficult for some people.) Especially when these people have been working with me for three years. One lady does it all the time. I act like it doesn't bother me, but it really pisses me off for some reason. It's like, hey, I bothered to learn YOUR last name.

Oh, I'm just crabby.

Mary Jane has a home! Hoorah!

Mary Jane might be adopted. A couple of people have expressed interest. Hopefully, there will be no shelter time for her. Pray she gets a good home!

My list of "100 Things About Me" is complete!

Fall has hit. It's downright chilly here in Arkansas. I bought myself some new winter pajamas at the Walmart. Things are funnier said when you add "the" in front of them. It makes me feel like an old woman. Anyway, bought new pajamas. Pink. Since being married, I pay more attention to my underwear and pajama situation. I still don't normally go the sexy route, but I care about the holes and broken elastic now.

This weekend we are painting unpainted parts of the house and maybe going to see a movie. I'm thinking "School of Rock." I love Jack Black. He is like a big exposed nerve.

It always happens. I go on about how thoughtful Jason is, then we have a big ole fight. Last night, it was about me getting off my butt to finish a family cartoon portrait for a friend of his brothers. I was thinking, you know, finish it by Christmas. He was thinking, you know, finish it last Thursday. Blah, blah, blah, him raising his voice, me stomping off, such is marriage. We made up later. He was the one 90% wrong, so he did 90% of the apologizing. We are pretty fair that way.

I have been in a two day long meeting with my category. I get so sick of bitching and whining and complaining. You know, life is tough. Pray about it, take some medication if you need it, get some therapy and MOVE ON. I don't believe in quick fixes for big problems, but I get so sick of people wallowing in their own pity ponds. They've found a crutch, so there they stay. You are just damaging yourself by not throwing out the crutch and learning how to walk.

Unless of course, you are actually crippled. That is okay. Keep the crutches.

My husband works with schizophrenic people. They would give anything to be leading a normal life. To own their own house. To have a real job. Whenever I need to be reminded how much opportunity I have, I just go visit his work. I am complaining about "poor me. I feel sad sometimes," and these people can't get EVIL VOICES out of their heads or stop seeing little green men. One lady thinks she's Mary, the mother of Jesus. How's that for baggage.

Sorry about the rant.

In other news, Jason brought home another dog for me to fix up. It's a long-haired dachshund. I named her Mary Jane because she was living in one of the drug-dealing houses near Jason's work. I was thinking Lady Cocaine or Miss Meth, but I thought Mary Jane sounded the prettiest. I gave her a bath, and picked her ticks off and she's a pretty good looking dog. Better than the Chow--he was ugly. I'll take her to the shelter tomorrow. I know she'll get adopted, so I don't feel bad about it.

My husband knows the way to my heart. Art supplies. We were in Hobby Lobby last night and there was all this watercolor board on clearance. I was drooling because it was so cheap and there was so much of it. Dreams of creative visions flew through my head. I looked at him, with that "I know we are on a budget but....pleeeeeze?" look, and he let me get it. All. He bought me $50 worth of watercolor board, which, to an artist, is like bling-bling (to quote Puff Daddy.)

We are a pretty good match. Mainly because of this: we each still have our own lives. We don't do everything together, and we don't feel the need to, either. I let him go to Alaska for a week a year ago with his brother and stayed home to work on art projects. I feel free to go have a cup of coffee with friends. I go see movies by myself sometimes, just for kicks. We spend most evenings in different rooms, working on various projects. I know this doesn't sound extraordinary, but I have been amazed by how many couples don't allow this of each other. It bothers me. I may be married, but I am still Ellen. I'm by no means a radical feminist--I usually defer to Jason. But I have appreciated that I am married to someone who lets me explore.

I think I need to remember this when I have kids also. It's probably even more difficult to keep from getting lost when you have a baby attached to your boob.