Loki

Brelsford Family Christmas...

Baby's got back?

More Christmas Photos...

B In The Mangrove

More photos of mangrove...

Mangrove

B In The Mangrove

So, I'm attempting to tell the floor installers how to tear out my old floor without any of B's input. FYI, B is/was a professional installation dude and has put in/torn out many a floor without voiding the warranty, breaking the house he put the floor in and other bad things that can happen when someone without a clue is attempting home remolding. But, right now the installer is attempting to cut up our old floor with a skill saw and then, using a hammer and a chisel, chisel it out. It is not the most effective way to tear out a floor glued to concrete. Even with my lack of experience, I know there is a better way. His saw has already gotten so hot it has set off the smoke detectors. Cause, skill saw + concrete floor = smoke. Just sayin.

Update: I called the owner and bitched him out in a voice mail. I didn't swear at him at all--yet. The scatological terms will soon be pulled out and brandished all over town if they don't pull their heads out of their asses and rent a stripper. No, I don't mean that kind of stripper, a floor stripper. Still sounds kinky, doesn't it? Anyway, they think B was difficult to deal with yesterday, just wait till I lose it on them.

Thanks for listening to me bitch. I feel ever so much better now. :o)

Gross Woman's Issues

I had a hysterosalpingogram this morning to see if my tubes and such are open, which they are. In order to ease the discomfort they shot my cervix up with enough lidocaine I swear my tongue was numb. On the plus side, I got to see my cervix in all it's digital glory on a television screen.

Since they cannot determine why I can't get knocked up, they're going to try artificial insemination. This means I get to take lots and lots of hormones! OK, not lots and lots, but quite a few. I'm imagine my mood swings will be similar to a roller coaster ride through hell. The actual insemination will take place in March. Wish us luck.

Beach Pics

Link to more beach pics.

Spoons

Oh, the mocking hurts so bad.

Today I got to see a very unattractive fertility dude. Very. Unattractive. I tried to think of an uglier person, but came up blank. Plus, he has no social skills at all. None. The social skill basket is empty. But, he is supposed to be good at what he does, so I'll put up with his random comments about his personal hell being strapped to a chair and forced to watch Tampa Bay's head coach John Gruden at press conferences. No clue what that had to do with artificial insemination, other than the fact that B looks like a bald John Gruden.

Moving on. We'll get started on tests over the next few weeks. The first test for me is a hysterosalpingogram -- try saying that five times fast. It is an x-ray of the fallopian tubes and uterus after they have been injected with dye. It shows if the tubes are open and the shape of the uterus.

If they find out the tubes are open and the uterus' shape looks good, they'll try artificial insemination. If they see things are looking blocked, they'll do in vitro.

I'll let you know more when I do. Hope you all are having a good day!

Christmas 2005

Page down when you go to this link to more X-mas pics!

There IS a God!!!

According to this article, Jeb said he won't run in 2008!!!

I'm giddy with relief.

So, today B and I purchased a replacement wedding ring (his got demolished in the accident). It was fun browsing through the different types of metal they have out. After much deliberation, he finally decided on a titanium number. Let's see him break THAT bugger! On second thought, maybe I'll wrap him in bubble wrap, seal him inside a giant, plastic, hamster ball and watch him roll around the house.

As we were shopping around, I found a little camera shop and added to my in-my-dreams list. So pretty! There is the Nikon D2x Professional Digital SLR that takes 5 frames per second, but... that is too expensive to even think about putting on my in-my-dreams list. Add on a telephoto lense, and I could send someone to college. Kinda over kill to fulfill my desire to take photos of surfer dudes on the beach. They just look like they are having so much fun, and... I'm way too afraid of sharks to paddle my lame ass out so the least I can do is live vicariously through them by snapping a few shots, ya' know? But my current camera has a huge delay after you hit the button and instead of getting a shot of some dude or dudette surfing, I've got the wave swallowing them up as the bite it. Not to mention I'd rather take candid shots of family than stills where everyone is wearing a will-you-just-take-the-damn-picture-already grin. I mean, you can see the violent gleam in their eye as I snap away, especially the three year old who'd really rather play with his birthday present than hold up the package as I get his snap-shot. So, really, my desire to get a ridiculously expensive camera is FOR THE CHILDREN! Maybe I'll start going door to door to collect for this worthy cause.

I Spent the Last Few Years Building Up an Immunity to Iocane Powder

For my money, a person cannot watch "The Princess Bride" too many times. So, that is what I'm doing right now. Currently, Fezzik is climbing The Cliffs of Insanity, and his job is at stake.

B was supposed to get home over an hour ago. Sadly, he had to let someone go this afternoon and he is late. In addition to him being late, he is going to be moody tonight. I feel bad for the guy, he doesn't enjoy negatively impacting another person's livelihood. Thank God for wine at supper.

All right then, what I'd like to know is how different people define dinner. Where I come from, dinner is what you eat during the middle of the day and supper is what you eat at the end of the work day. In B's opinion, dinner means supper and lunch is lunch. This has led to many different miscommunications where I show up for dinner and he wonders why the hell I dropped by for lunch, not that I did this today. Cause, I didn't. Nope. Not me.

God, I'm hungry. Where do you suppose Vizzini got the wine, bread, cheese and apples on such short notice?

Katrina

I don’t understand our government’s response to this situation. Why didn’t our president end his vacation before the hurricane hit and rally some sort of evacuation effort for people without means? You can prevent tragedy, not just clean up after it. While the hurricane was chugging up the gulf toward some of the poorest states in the union, what were our governing officials doing? Are they so out of touch with the people that they didn’t realize many folks didn't have the means to leave? Worse yet, did they realize people didn’t have the means to leave and didn’t act?
Some people are calling this event "our tsunami". When the tsunami hit South-East Asia, they had no warning. We knew the hurricane was coming days ahead of time, and we didn’t help those in need get out of Katrina’s way. This event is much worse than the tsunami, because we could have done something more to get people out of the way and we didn't. We have much to be ashamed of.

Moral of Story: Wear More Than Shorts When Riding Motorcycle

Home From The Hospital-Week 2

I'm feeling like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of a cast member of "Stomp's", shoe. All that aside, I'm feeling much better than I did last week. Currently, I'm playing couch commando; firing shots at B from across the room as we battle for control of the remote. So far this morning, I'm gleefully grasping the remote in one hand and making him watch "Charmed". I truly am evil. ::insert maniacal laughter here::

I am annoyed at B as he feels oddly obligated to tell everyone we cheated Death. This, in my opinion, is like announcing that you cheated a mafia boss out of his drug money -- loudly, and in front of him. Death will probably come and kick our asses any minute because of B's loud boasting.

As for the guy that hit us, he has neither been incarcerated nor captured. I have, though, sent him some bad juju in the form of an itchy butt curse. It is my devout prayer that he spend the rest of his life squirming in his chair not being able to find relief from the terrible, constant itching. Speaking of itching, OH MY FREAKING GOD does healing itch! Thank GOD/DESS for Benadryl, without which I'd be driven insane by the constant need to scratch. It is all I can think about when I'm not taking the wondrous Benadryl, which is my new drug of choice.

B made another announcement. This time he has firmly stated we will no longer ride/own motorcycles. I understand his reluctance to get on a bike again, but I'm leaning toward categorizing him as a total wuss. I mean, come on! What do a few flesh wounds and broken bones really matter in the grand scheme of things? On the plus side, he hasn't thought to take away my new Dodge Charger (which I drive at a rate of speed which would make the fictional characters Bo and Luke Duke shriek in fear), so I'll still be able to have my adrenaline rush while weaving in and out of traffic around town (this is probably what promotes Brownie's firm declaration that she will always be the one to drive when we go out).

As for September, I'm planning on heading home. I want to drive back, but B isn't going to be able to come with so I'll probably fly (unless I somehow fool B into believing I flew when I really drove). Brownie is coming home the end of September and I hope to get our schedules together in order to see her and everyone else. Plus, I want to be healed up enough that I'm not walking around while holding my ass and moaning out loud. The end of September is probably the quickest I'll be able to get back to the tundra.

Lurve you all! ::hugs:: <--yes, the painkillers make my a lot more friendly than I usually am.

Hospital Not Fun

After much deliberation, B and I have decided that hospitals are not the barrel of laughs we thought they'd be. Last Friday, after being knocked off our motorcycle at 45 mph by a car that side-swiped us, we made a little visit to the local ER. First of all, the ambiance is SO institutional. They say beige is soothing, but in this case, no. Too bad they don't embrace the whole Florida room idea somewhere in their blah hospital rooms. They cling to drab like there is no tomorrow, which I suppose for some there isn't.

Luckily, B and I got to check out of the hospital within three days. Boy was I glad to be out of there. B has a broken thumb, middle finger and the cutest little blue cast. Both of us have "Road Rash" all over our legs and arms. Bleck.

Hope you all are doing well! Miss ya'!

So. Damn. Cute.

I'm trying to talk B into purchasing two Teacup Yorkies. They weigh less than 7 lbs. each, and are adorable. I want one so badly, I can taste it, and it tastes sweet, my friend. Very. Sweet. I want to get two so they can play with each other, but more so for the comedic value. Imagine, if you will, this: B is standing at the sliding patio door. Company is over. He goes to the door and calls the dogs in. Here is the kicker -- the dogs names are Itty and Bitty. Yes, my big, growly husband calling the tiny yorkies inside will provide me with years, and years of snickering.

God, I want these dogs.

Home Run Derby

B is watching the home run derby while I think of all the other things I'd like to view on T.V. For instance, I'd rather watch... ANY. THING. ELSE. Yes, I hate baseball. According to my husband, there is some sort of strategy to everything in this game. When a batter steps out of the box to tap his shoes with the bat, he is really attempting to break the pitcher's grove-thing by stalling. And, when a pitcher scratches himself and pretends he is going to throw the runner out at first, it is another stalling attempt to mess with the batter's rhythm.

Whatever. I don't care. What I do care about is South Park, which is on right now. I could be watching Kenny get killed yet again, but no! B has to watch his damn baseball.

Stupid boring sports messing up my television viewing.

No More Flag Burning?

It isn't that I burn flags on a daily basis or anything, cause, I don't. Not all the time, anyway. But, what if I need to? I can't think of many reasons I'd actually HAVE to burn a flag, but let's go out on a limb and say American politicians begin to pass crazy-ass laws forbidding the people of this great nation to act out their constitutional rights and we end up in some sort of Orwellian society where gays can't marry, women can't decide whether or not they want to have a child and we are ordered/shamed by our government into embracing and fighting for "freedom" and "democracy" without actually HAVING any freedom or democracy? What then? Would I be forced to burn a flag in order to bring certain light to the fact that the flag is a symbol of a country that extols freedom but doesn't actually want their people to be free?

I think I would, my friend. Oh, yes! I think I would.