Category — Totally Off Topic

I have lost many people in my life. My wonderful grandparents on both sides of the family. My step-father. Beloved pets.

But I’ve never lost a friend. I’ve never had a friend die.

Die. Dead. How can a friend. Be dead?

The words don’t make sense in the same sentence. Because people who die are gravely sick, or old, or addicted to dangerous drugs, or reckless and irresponsible. There’s an explanation for the death. There’s a moment or a choice or a lifestyle or an illness that you can point to and say, “Oh, he died of a heart attack,” or “She died from cancer.”

A dear friend died in a motorcycle accident yesterday. His sister contacted me through Facebook to break the news and we spoke on the phone shortly afterwards.

The news was so shocking, so abrupt, that I thought it was a joke.

The finality of death, the eternity of it, the forever-ness of it, has always been the most painful thing to understand. But at least there’s always been a cause.

This time, though, I’m at a complete loss. He’s still here. I can still hear his voice. I can still hear his motorcycle pull up to the house. I can still hear his uproarious laughter bouncing off the walls.

There’s his spot on our couch. He swam in our pool and ate Chinese food with us. We all got fired from our jobs together. We all started our own company together. We exchanged secrets.

Our cats peed on his motorcycle helmet and we bought him a new one. He clogged our toilet and, while piss-water flooded the bathroom, he calmly asked, “Errr….you got some towels or something?” He formed a band with my husband. He didn’t flinch when Chris burned a rack of ribs on Memorial Day.

He took me on my first (only) motorcycle ride. He gave me binoculars for my birthday. He took me to Chili’s when I was pregnant. He came to my baby shower.

His hair turned gray. He laughed louder. He got smarter and sharper. He was finally going to buy a couch for his apartment.

And then he died.

Dammit, Troy. God dammit. We miss you.

I like shopping.

Oh sure, I hate the part where I catch a glimpse of my dimpled ass illuminated by a flickering fluorescent light. But since I generally don’t shop for clothes, this isn’t much of an issue.

What is an issue is that I like shopping — I like to spend money in general — but I don’t have a job.

These two considerations are incompatible, as it turns out.

Shopping is a serious stress release for me, so I find ways to make it work. For a few months, I got into the very bad habit of buying things just to experience the act of buying. I would take the goods home, let them sit in a bag in our bedroom, then return the merchandise a few days later. Weird, right?

I stopped doing that, but I still needed a shopping release.  So now, I spend a decent amount of time window shopping online. I browse ‘deal of the day’ websites, mostly. I also like browsing Amazon, Baby Cheapskate and other bargain advice-type sites. I thrive on bargains, on getting a great price and saving a few bucks.

I have learned some lessons along the way:

• Don’t be immediately overcome by a great price, especially on something you wouldn’t ordinarily buy.
  I bought a pair of cute XOXO sunglasses for $14.95 from a certain site, along with $7 or $8 shipping (should have been a red flag). I normally buy $6 cheapies at a discount store, but I recongized the name brand on this sale and thought $15 seemed like a great deal. After I charged the purchase to my debit card, I did a quick Google search to see how much I had saved. Turns out, that $15 price tag was standard across all merchants selling the sunglasses — and some offered free shipping. Bogus. And speaking of shipping . . .
• Free shipping — especially free return shipping — is worth its weight in gold.
  Free shipping offers can save you anywhere from $0.99 to more than $20 per order, depending on the size/weight of what you buy. I’ve wasted enough on shipping charges that I generally won’t buy from any online merchant that charges for shipping if they charge more than a few bucks for the entire order.
• Don’t get lazy about returns or exchanges just because you didn’t buy from a brick-and-mortar.
  I’ve been guilty of this: Buying from an online retailer and being too lazy to exchange something that genuinely needed to go. Nowadays, online retailers usually need to keep up decent customer service if they want to stay credible (thank you, social networking!). If something doesn’t fit, work or meet your expectations, RETURN IT. Contact customer service and explain what’s going on. You’ll be surprised at how accommodating people can be.
• Be open to small-time online shops.
  For our DSLR, for instance, I checked over a dozen online shops. I ended up going with a smaller retailer and got the memory card, carrying case, zoom lens, and a bunch of other crap, along with free shipping, and paid at least $100 less than the next closest competitor.
• Make promo codes your friend.
  Before submitting any order online, always Google for a coupon or promo code. Don’t rely on any single source — click on a few of the search results to see what you can find. Sites like Coupon Cabin and Retail Me Not are regular stops for me, but I’ve found lots of codes on random, 1998-looking websites too.
• Try overstock/discount chains.
  Did you know that Marshall’s often has very pricey Elizabeth Arden wrinkle cream for $20 and Kate Spade bags for $30 or $40? I’ve also picked up several pair of Robeez kids’ shoes for $5 (they retail for upwards of $25 normally). You can also find expensive shoes, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, thank-you cards, headphones, iPod cases, furniture and tons more if you take some time to browse.
• Shop around.
  This seems obvious, but I probably take it to an extreme. I comparison shop for just about everything, no matter how big or small, and I don’t stop at two or three stores. I will search for days, wait for holiday sales (for retailers, even President’s Day is a reason to put shit on sale). This applies to shopping in person and online. If I don’t like the price in a store, I’ll hold off until I can compare online prices. I’m always convinced I can get it cheaper. And if I still don’t find a price I like . . .
• Hit up Craig’s List.
  We needed a new changing table pad. Did you know those fuckers are like $30??? It’s foam, for cryin’ out loud. So I checked Craig’s List and picked up a practically-new pad and cover for $15, right down the street. I didn’t have to pay tax or stand in line, and I did my part to keep excess waste out of landfills.
• Sign up for Upromise.
  Upromise is a program that saves money toward college education, whether it’s yours or your child’s. You can even use the savings  to pay off student loans. You can do a lot of comparison shopping right on the site and a certain percentage of the purchase total is set aside in a 529 or other savings plan. Even qualifying restaurant and grocery store purchases earn you a few pennies here and there. Over the past 10 months or so, I’ve saved more than $20. I know, not much, but every penny counts.

A few other tips:

• Sign up for your local chapter of Freecycle.org
• Register for deals and news from retailers you frequent
• Learn from your mistakes
• Don’t get caught up in the moment unless it’s something you NEED and you KNOW the price you see is incredible

BTW, I haven’t been paid or compensated in any way for the site mentions or advice. This is just me, being generous and awesome. Again.

If you’ve got shopping tips or confessions, please share in the comments! I’m always up for a new site or tip.

I’m sick.

In the head, sure. But, like, sick sick.

It started with a sore throat last Saturday. I figured it was from shouting all night at the noisy bar we went to in California. But the sore throat lingered. It turned into a nasty, dry cough. I almost threw up a few times from coughing (in my CAR, GROSS). Now, the plague has turned into a cold.

Oh, and Elise has had, shall we say, stomach issues all week — so bad that I’ve had to throw out a pair of pajamas (you don’t want to know) and give her several baths a day. And she won’t eat ANYTHING except breastmilk and yogurt.

Meanwhile, Althea has discovered the “tantrum.”

There’s a collection agency harassing me about  a medical bill from the girls’ birth (over a year ago!) and no one seems to know what the bill is for or what to do with it.

I bought a turkey and all the extras to cook a Christmas dinner on Friday — with no one here to eat it, because I had to cancel our guests due to my apparent bought with SARS.

All this while I’m on my period. I know, TMI! But it adds dramatic emphasis!!!

This week has been SO RAD!!!!!!

I’m drinking tonight, needless to say. Drinking and hitting the exclamation mark more than usual.

!!!!!!!!!

I’m endlessly thankful.

For you.

And you.

And you.

And for all our family and friends.

And to you all, friends and readers and strangers.

Happy Thanksgiving. Be grateful every day.

Two of a Kind is currently holding a contest to win a Twin Indie Bumbleride stroller. Oh drool drool drool!! What I wouldn’t give to win this sucker. Look at the colors. Look at the features! And be sure to check out Two of a Kind’s blog while you’re clicking!

I’m so f’n busy. We’re so f’n busy. Most recently, I decided that, just before having family stay with us in August, it’d be a super fantastic idea to take on a serious painting/redecorating/summer cleaning (because I was way too lazy in the spring) project. It’s genuinely needed but horribly badly timed.

Do I care? No. Because I’ve got the wild hair up my ass and I’m going to get this shit done.

In order to get everything crossed off my to-do list, I needed help. Like, Man Help. Like, my husband would need to take out the power tools and break shit and have leftover parts that would keep me up at night, wondering if a pipe was going to burst or something would catch on fire due to his disdain for instruction manuals-type of help.

Problem is, the poor guy is working his ass off at his job. (Thank you thank you thank you.) He comes home and loves on me, coos at his daughters, takes his dinner dishes to the sink, then falls asleep on the couch watching soccer. Every. Single. Night.

So. My to-do list was getting desperate. And desperate times . . .

I called a handyman without telling my husband. Secret Handyman came over and gave me an estimate for all the work I wanted done. We made an appointment for him to come today to get started. I went to Lowe’s and bought all the tools. I transferred money from the remaining pennies in my savings account to pay for it myself.

All without telling my husband. Cue the gasps and groans of every married woman reading this.

Should I have been surprised, then, that Chris messaged me today to say he was coming home for lunch? As Secret Handyman banged my pipes and screwed holes in my drywall? (Sexual innuendos totally intended for comic effect. Har har.)

Of course! Of course Chris is coming home for lunch. Because why in the world would I get away with something like this?

Thing is, I’m also babysitting a friend’s daughter this week. And Secret Handyman had gone to Lowe’s to exchange a part. So when Chris got home for lunch, everyone else managed to show up at the house at the same time. It was a chaotic convergence of friend-crying babies-Chris-handyman, such that Chris was totally disoriented and had NO IDEA what was going on. And I had to introduce Chris to Secret Handyman.

Me: “Chris, this is Bill.”

Chris: “Oh, hi Bill.” — strange look at me.

Me: “Bill is here to fix stuff. And hang a light.”

Chris: “Oh. Okay.” — furrowed brow furrowed brow furrowed brow.

Me: “Well, I’m going to take all these kids on a walk! Bye!”

And I took the girls and the friend’s daughter on a walk. While I panicked my way around the block with three babies sweating half to death in the 95-degree oppressive heat and humidity, Chris texts me with exactly this:

“What the shit who the hell is that and wtf is going on????”

Thankfully, it all blew over. Secret Handyman did enough work around the house to get us motivated, I think, to pick up a few DIY projects. Or finish all this goddamned painting and decorating I’ve started. Or maybe clean out a closet.

I think I can get the laundry done, at least. Yes, I think I can do that.

I’m having a tough time, guys.

I’m stressed, sad and tired. The latest events with our cats is wearing on me. Kramer developed a fever and I took him in to the vet. The way he has his jaw wired in place makes him drool and backwash everywhere, including into his food bowl. He drips and sprays slobbery cat food EVERYWHERE, including the walls, my hair and all over the floor. I spend a good portion of the day cleaning up fish stink and shielding myself from flying cat food.

I feed him meds through a tube in his neck. I’m pretty sure he’s blind in his right eye. The vets have all assured us we did the right thing, his quality of life will be great. They assure us. And the bills pile up. And the guilt, the guilt, the guilt of what I’ve done . . .

I picked up Vincent’s ashes. I sobbed like a child. Seeing his urn meant he was really dead. Really, really dead. Killed. We miss you, man.

(I felt a very strange and very unmistakable presence in the house today. Twice. Like someone walking by, behind me. Definitely a person. Kramer started meowing like Vincent. I wasn’t even drunk.)

We missed a mortgage payment and we’ll never make it up. We just won’t. We’ve never been late on a payment. I have perfect credit. Not so much anymore. Talking to the bank today didn’t help.

We still plan to buy a better camera and somehow, I only feel slightly guilty.

I’ve barely left the house in almost two weeks. I’m so tired that I don’t want to deal with anyone. I have a million things to do around the house and zero motivation or money to do them.

I’ve only exercised a couple of times in two weeks and I’m terrified to step on the scale. I just wanted to lose six lousy pounds by August and I can’t even do that.

I spent a good five hours in the kitchen today, cleaning and cooking and cooking and cleaning. Dishes. Making baby food. Cleaning cat food syringes. Cleaning stinky cat food bowls. Dishes. Cleaning up cat slobber. Spilling an entire can of Coke. Entertaining babies. Feeding. Cooking. Feeding.

Now that I’m staying home with the girls, I’ll never be able to go back to work. Being a SAHM is not legitimate. You don’t get a line for that on your resume. Just because it’s a 24/7 job, constantly on, never rest, only work work work. At this point, I couldn’t act smart enough to get a job anyway.

I wonder if my years-long battle with depression is finally creeping back after my pregnancy euphoria. Dammit. My old shrink doesn’t take our new insurance.

Not that I’ve checked.

I have bags under my eyes. The bags have bags. I feel like shit. I’m lonely. I’m a failure. I want to hide.

I need, need, need. I need help.

I have begun way too many sentences with “I” in this post. <–Stated with complete self-awareness.

Lesson of the evening: Don’t blog and bitch. Because man, that publish button is a bitch . . .

Please consider donating to this extremely worthwhile cause. In Florida, freestanding birth centers aren’t allowed to do VBACs (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). In other words, the state is telling ladies how and where they can have their babies!

Through midnight tonight, donations are being matched.

True-and-only-somewhat-related story: I went to a Mom’s Night Out with a bunch of other ladies last month. Out of the seven of us at the table, only two of us had vaginal deliveries, one of them being, of course, me — with twins! WTF!

Aside from the dirty fridge, please tell me what’s wrong with this picture.

Oh well. Happy Father’s Day?

And he taketh away.

We just got a knock at the door at 10 p.m. A neighbor. How many cats did we have?

Kramer is alive and purring next to me on the couch. Vincent Van Gogh, the father of the rest of the kitties we have, is dead. Hit and killed by a car.

R.I.P.