What the HELL is going on around here?

The past few weeks have been insanely busy. I keep thinking that it'll slow down, but really, that's just a crazy thought. And I'm okay with that. I'd rather be busy than not. I've got a ton of freelance work (yay!), lots of family & friends' get-togethers, and just events in general. It gets us out of the house and wears the kidlets out, so that's good, right?

A few weeks ago is when it started happening. I was using the microwave to melt some butter for something I was cooking. I took the butter out and shut the door. And then the microwave continued to try and work. At first, I heard the clicking, but dismissed it. Then I noticed the light was flickering inside the microwave. I opened, put butter in, turned it on, and when it shut off, it was fine. It started again after I took the butter out and shut the door again. I realized that the plate on the bottom was attempting to spin, too. I decided to pretend I saw nothing and walk away.

Then the tv started. We'll be watching tv, and it will switch off. It will stay off for about five minutes and switch back on. It's random. It won't happen while the tv is on in the background (like if I've got it on a music channel), but the minute you sit down to watch something, it will start. Thank goodness for Tivo! The Husband thinks it can be fixed. I just ignore it.

This past weekend, it was the dryer. At the time, the Husband and I were debating what to do about our washing machine. There's nothing mechanically wrong with it, but it's a front loader, which I thought I would love. Turns out? I hate it. I'm not sure why, but our clothes stink. Bad. At first, we thought it was the detergent I've been making for the past year. So I went out and bought Arm & Hammer and some Bounce. I traded out detergent, stopped using vinegar, took out the dryer balls, and replaced everything with the stuff I used to use. No change. Well, slight perfumey change, but that's to be expected, right? I got some washing machine cleaner. It seemed to help at first. I clean out the door boot. So we were debating on trading it in for a top-loading machine. And the dryer started acting funky. The heat settings would constantly scroll while it's on and then it would shut off. I searched online. I tried using it anyway, but it didn't dry anything. So I ordered the $180 control panel and pulled the plug out of the wall so I didn't have to hear it beep incessantly. We decided to table the decision on the washer. This morning? I go to put some towels in as a test. Works perfectly. ARRRRGGGGGHHH! Luckily, there's a return policy.

Then, yesterday, the Tivo box wouldn't come on. I said "Screw it" and went upstairs and watched Good Morning America in the bedroom. Apparently, while we were out in Boston ALL DAY, the Tivo decided to turn itself on. Most likely, it was right after we left and was on for eight hours.

So I don't know what the hell is going on around here. Now, I know what you're thinking, we've already discussed how appliances and I don't mix. And the Mac we discussed in that posting? Died a slow and painful death. One that apparently my father's electronic genius intervention could help. But this is just not fair. I asked the same question to the Husband, and his answer was something like, "Well, you live in the house, what do you expect?" He's probably right. I must have some sort of a force field around me that causes anything electronic to freak out.

And this is precisely why I have absolutely no interest in an electric car. Can you blame me?

Coordination: I [does not] has it.

So we're thirty-five minutes deep into Zumba tonight, I'm in my usual spot, front row, slightly left with my girls (The real ones, Tay, Mama J, and the other Mama J; not the girls being contained on my chest). It's juicy, the fans aren't on and we've already sweated out breakfast and most of lunch (minus the cheesecake balls I keep hiding from the kidlets). We're doing a cross step move and the instructor is all "Bigger! Yeah, you got it!" to me. Because I'm in front, and you know how the class nerd is, right? Only, we switch to this sliding move and it happens so fast, I don't even see it coming. And I'm pretty sure I did the whole scramble thing on the way down, but it was just too slippery on the very obviously fake wood floor. And it takes me a second to recover. But I jump up and get right back in step. The instructor, who was standing next to me, turns to face me (while moving) and he's all "Are you okay?" Of course, in my head, I'm all "Please, I'm the girl that tripped and fell down the stairs at my junior prom. This ish happens to me all the time." But I just utter a "yeah" and keep moving.

After all, I was the girl who also fell down a flight of stairs while seven months pregnant at my best friend's mom's house the night before her wedding. 'Cause when I do it, I do it big.

Reason #732 why I dislike shopping with the kidlets...

It was time for some new underoos. The Husband has decided instead of waiting, he's taking the Son and they're going to hang out at Best Buy. I've got Daughter duty to shop. Which doesn't sound so bad, right?

We're at the mall in the underoo store, and I'm picking out my dressing room pile. The first fun thing that happens, is she grabs a red "nightgown" off the rack and says, "this is pretty mommy, you could put this on later when we have friends coming over!" She's incredibly proud of herself because she knows I love red, and yes, some friends whom I've taken their wedding photos are coming over later to review them. I tell her that it's not clothing appropriate for other people to see. She's a little confused, but she hangs it back up and moves on.

Later, we're in the main room with more practical underoos. She's all excited because she notices the size letters on the drawers. I show her which one I'm looking for. Now, I'm not a "big" girl, but I'm no size zero. She holds up a pair out of my drawer and says, "wow, mom, those are bigggg!" Great, so I've just been given a complex by my 6-year-old, thin-as-a-rail daughter. And I want to stuff a sock in her mouth. Of course, immediately following, there is the inhale of other women awaiting my reply. I tell her, "that is not nice at all, and you need to stop." She cowers. We move on. I continue, but she's over looking at some underwear that's hanging on the wall. She turns around, across the room, and says, "Mommy, these should fit you, they're big!"

Makes you want to take them everywhere, eh?

The truth about me and electronics.

I've come to a point in my adulthood when I need to finally declare that electronics and I just don't mix. Even with a father that is an Electrical Engineer, I cannot be salvaged, I am afraid. Terrible, right? Can you feel his pain? Here's the thing. Growing up, we could rarely afford to replace things. Especially since my father had the know-how to fix everything. I'll save the tales of his frugalness leading all the way to reusing nails for another posting. But he raised me to always take care of the things you have, as my parents worked very hard for everything. And I believe I do. Apparently, all my appliances disagree, somehow. I tear through vacuums. I moved out of my parents' house twelve years ago. I'm on my fourth vacuum. Yes, I have two kids, a husband, two cats, and a dog. But really, I don't buy stick-vacs, so aren't most normal vacuums made for this? I don't suck up stuff that I shouldn't. I just want all the hair and dirt gone. But I guess that's asking too much. My current vacuum--if I had the money to spend on a new one, it would be at the curb. My old roommate, who is quite possibly the messiest person I know (Danielle, if you are by chance reading this, you know I love you, but I speak the truth). She has had one vacuum since we first lived together. We picked it out ten years ago. After I killed her mother's Kirby. She still has that same vacuum. It's just not fair. However, if anyone from Dyson would like to send a sample my way, I'll promptly use it, break it, and send it back to you so that you can tear it apart and see what has gone wrong. Anyone? Anyone? Shall I beg? I'm also on my fourth set of washers and dryers. In 11 years. (The first year, I made nice at the laundromat. They probably rejoiced the day I left.) In all truthfulness, the third set we sold with our last house as a ploy because I wanted new front-loaders. But don't worry, we made up for that—I'm on my second motor for my current dryer. No, I don't overload. I don't shove an entire sheep in there. I swear. Think it's still a fluke? I've killed two refrigerators. And my mother's brand new french-door refrigerator broke one weekend after my wedding, where she hosted the rehearsal party. I don't even know why, but electronics simply run screaming from me. Even though I still take care of everything I own, as I work my ass off for it. The latest casualty? My iMac. I know, I'm trying not to cry directly over the keyboard to my MacBook. We bought it back in 2004, when I finally convinced the Husband to go Mac and never look back. I ridiculed him when he bought a Toshiba laptop in 2006 and it needed to have its operating system reloaded after nine months. And twice since then. I've always babied my iMac, and it has been a true workhorse to me. I gave it more RAM when we moved, as I knew I would be doing more freelance and needed the power. My boss upgraded it to Leopard 10.5 last year so I could sync it with my MacBook and use my new Creative Suite. And now, I'm afraid it needs a new midboard, as there's no video card for an iMac. I really want to fix it, not replace it. I'm going to perform a few more diagnostic tests before I take it off to the Genius Bar, but it is considered a legacy Mac. (= more $$$). Until then, I will try not to break anything. Although, I will say, something in the house usually breaks right after we get the "project starter" coupon in the mail from Lowe's. It hasn't shown up yet, so let's hope everything holds together.

This is the one...

...where I tell you about my funny surgery story. I had an outpatient procedure yesterday, and it all went well, thank you. I still feel hungover from it, but I do feel a nap in my future. But let's get to the funny. So I'm in the surgery center, and while I'm not in the first round (read: 6am), I'm in the second round of surgeries. So patients are leaving, patients are coming, doctors and nurses are mulling about. Before they bring the Husband in, I'm noticing a few young doctors in the area. We're at a teaching hospital, so I'm pretty sure they are interns or residents. I notice one in particular. A tall, tanned, toned, young male doctor. Perhaps even younger than me. (gasp!) The Husband comes back, where we sit for an hour. And another hour. And wait. The nature of my visit requires a specific table, and the first surgery was running late. In the mean time the anesthesiologist, with his sidekick my hot doctor come to discuss knocking me out. The Husband is giggling as he walks away, knowing I was blushing. My surgery happens, I recover, and the Husband returns to retrieve me. We're waiting on discharge, and the young doc comes over to visit. He asks how I'm doing, I say I'm as fine as I can be in recovery. He asks if anyone told me about my rash? Umm, no... He says, "you got a rash across your stomach during the surgery, likely from the anesthesia, but it went away. If it comes back or anything, just call your doctor. Feel better!" and he's off. The Husband's first words to me? "HA! He saw you naked!" Sometimes, he's just so rotten.