Tired! More later...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tired! More later...
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
This song made me really sad, and I can't articulate exactly why.
Here's a comment from another viewer, which is great, since I'm completely dense and missed all these nuances:
"Maybe I'm just up late, but I've been watching the Mes Aieux video several times, and, coming from a very rural area, I find it so poignant -- the teen girl trying to stuff the soil in her purse and running and running, yet stopping to get the purse when it falls -- symbolizing either trying to escape the land into modernity while not being totally willing to relinquish it, or desparately trying to hand it on to the young boy, who simply uses it to bury the picture? Either way...it moved me."
More discussion here:
I'm a big time cutter and paster today since I am engaged concurrently in a heated text discourse with my teen, who desperately wants to be ungrounded. I let her out for a couple hours yesterday after school, and sure 'nuff, shows up with a group of guys (where are the girls???) who look 'less than wholesome', shall we say.
I am sooooo tired of the overabundance of parents who could care less about their children, who have created a world of no rules and no expectations that has become an intoxicating lure for my daughter.
If I had my way, we'd have the basement finished and set up for the kids so they could have a (semi) private area to go when they have friends over. As it is, the kids have no privacy except in their rooms to visit with their friends, our house isn't too "kid friendly", and I don't know how to fix that. I hear stories of parents who have all their kid's friends over *all the time*, and I wonder what we're doing wrong.
Here's my best guess:
Neither one of the kids have friends whose parents are still together, and they have next to nothing in the way of limitations or boundaries. One boy's dad lets him watch rated "R" movies, play "M" rated video games, etc, "'cause I want to expose him to the world and so we can talk about it if he has any questions". Um, yeah. (and that was when the boy was 9. He has "girlfriends" now that he is infatuated with, kisses even, and the little guy is only 11 now. What's next?)
And I don't think any of the friends ever have chores or family responsibilities, so compared to other families we look like mean tyrants, making Jacob wait to play until his homework and chores are done, eat wholesome meals (with VEGETABLES, much to the horror of his friends, who are terrified to eat with us. The neighbor boy has to forage whatever leftover macaroni and cheese/bag of chips he can find on his own when he's hungry, doesn't often have family meals), and not allowing him to watch certain movies or play certain games. No wonder no one wants to come over:-(
We've tried to get the kids involved in local church activities over the years to meet kids who come from traditional families so we don't seem so foreign, but with only 1-2 kids of compatible age or gender who attend, it never seemed to work out. Now, the oldest one will only seek out kids whose lives are in chaos, doesn't even approach straight laced girls... (or girls at all. She likes to hang out with groups of scruffy guys, go figure).
In addition, my family is too far away, and after all these years am starting to feel really isolated on our beautiful 3 acre spot far out in the country. Boo.
Ok, melodramatic rant over.... I just feel a little sorry for my kids, is all. But that doesn't change the fact that girl child is still grounded, much to the pain of us all.
I've tried to isolate some of the issues we've had with her lately, and it's all common knowledge stuff for me, who has tried to keep certain crap out my house forever. After months of begging (from my husband, no less), I agreed to get better cable a few months ago, and so it's been a steady stream of junk TV in the house, stuff that's gross and vile: anything on MTV (that "Sweet 16" show makes my stomach turn, and it's not even that bad..), those modeling shows (again, not so bad. But a show that tears a girl's heart into pieces and stomps on it is just wrong), "Bad Girl's Club", "Housewives of Whatever County", ick and ick. I know the world is a soulless pit, and I don't want to be intimately exposed to it hour after hour (girl watches a lot of television, flipping and flipping and flipping the channels, it's completely maddening. And since the only TV we have at the moment with our remodeling is adjacent to the kitchen where I spend most of my time, I have to be a witness to it a great deal more than I care to).
In an effort to get my house back, I cancelled the extended cable today, but would find it the fulfillment of my greatest dreams to get rid of the stoopid cable altogether. I hatehatehate TV with a mad passion, and have since I was a kid. Never in a million years would have thought that I'd be assaulted with an idiot box in nearly every room of the house... gar! Grace is going to be even MORE mad when she finds out... but the remaining issue is that she makes it next to impossible to regulate anything, flies into shrieking hysterics anytime we restrict or limit access something she wants. So instead of saying "you can watch this show, but not this one" and having her honor that without much drama and misery for everyone, I know I just have to cancel it. Which is too bad, 'cause some of the shows on the History and Discovery Channel are pretty nifty, but we didn't get to watch them often anyway with girlchild forever stationed at the helm of the remote.
I also did something very dumb, but don't know how to rectify it. A couple years ago, daughter got an MP3 player and it was nothing but grief for the entire family. The music she put on it was ghastly (seriously, it was BAD-- really, really bad.) and it was a constant struggle to find out what she was pumping directly into her brain at all hours of the day and night. She completely disengaged from the family every chance she got, wearing that thing so she never had to be present with us, and made every limitation of volume, listening times, a battle to the death. Finally, one day it suffered some sort of tragic accident (can't remember if I was responsible or not, girl is pretty hard on her stuff) and life has improved greatly ever since then. Now, she just listens to her "gangster rap" (wo knew so many songs could be devoted to women's vaginas?) on the dreaded "My Space" and tries to push the envelope that way, sharing it with the whole family so we can be collectively horrified at the vagina songs. But it's better than it was, there's no denying that.
So what does yours truly, Queen of Stupid, get her daughter for St Nick???
Another MP3 player-- gar! It's not like I've given it to her yet, so the stupid can be undone, but WHAT DO I GIVE HER INSTEAD??????? It's the only thing she requested, so the sheep in me was more than happy to pick one up and not have to think too hard, but I KNOW it will be a tool of my undoing in a few months when her attitude becomes even more unbearable-- and I will only have myself to blame.
Any and all suggestions will be graciously appreciated. Seriously. Her only interests are television, My Space, and really bad music. I'd love to sign her up for an activity or lessons, but have no idea what to try anymore (tried to get her interested in being in a band a couple years ago, gave her a year of $$ bass lessons, to no avail).
Jacob got a season of skiing, how cool is that?
Monday, November 24, 2008
Another profound spin class song, frought with meaning:
Even tho the lyrics are sort of disturbing, the beat gets you in a sexy frame of mind... and before you know it, your floppy spots are flapping, sweat starts dripping in your eyes, and you and everyone else in the class is making sweet bumipty love to their spin bikes.
Gawd! I loves me some spin class!
Having recently recovered (sortof) from a GI illness this weekend, every time the instructor had us bend over and hover low in the seat tonight I could feel my stomach contents start to churn, and I had to keep telling myself: "If I hurl during spin class, I'll be too humiliated to return. Don't barf don't barf don't barf." So even though it was a pretty wimpy, no-barf workout (but 21 miles aren't so bad for a sickie chickie, no? I just didn't crank it like I usually do), I give myself snaps for making what was involuntary at home a bit less so, albeit temporarily.
Not pooping in spin class is ever so much appreciated, too...another one of those useful things you take for granted until your body decides to go a little wonky.
Sooooooooo, all I can say is after the past few weeks of suckitude: I can eat now (1 day post GI illness), I can chew (1 week post root canal, finally healing), and I can breathe (after 2 months of a sinus infection); I'm all healed up, so it's time to BRING ON THE TURKEY!!! Yayyyyyyyy!
Have a good one, y'all!
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I totally recorded this with my phone at the concert the other night... lol!
Don't thing I've ever heard this song before, and it's quite the catchy tune. I stumbled upon it while trying out new channels on satellite radio in hopes of finding one that comes close to "Sirius Disorder". Today, it's been the "Underground Garage", a welcome relief from my days of previewing "The Loft" (which is NOTHING like Disorder as it's been touted to be, BTW--it's more like the REM sleep inducing "Coffeehouse"-- ack, bleck!). I've grown so attached to my satellite radio that it's been hard to cut the cord, so to speak, and call and cancel since it's looking like all my favorite channels are gone forevermore. Sigh!
I've been kindof stuck in the house today, even though the weather wasn't too bad. In my efforts to be superwoman and work while I was sickly all week, it seems I picked up yet one more affliction that requires me to stick fairly close to home, wheeeeee! Not like there's a whole lot going on in these parts (I really missed bowling last night with the Irregulars tho; ironic that this is the crux of my troubles of late, ho ho no!)... but I wouldn't mind going shopping and pick up a few more cold weather clothes. Since I've been shrinking, I don't have all that many shirts that fit me properly-- the most fun and least fun part of dieting (I'm not much of a shopper, go figure! And my favorite store is packed to the gills on the weekends). Mebbe the latest installation of my sickitude will bring me thru my weight loss plateau in spite of all my carb eating, the silver lining I'm trying to find at the end of a pretty nasty week;-)
p.s. the neighbors got a dog, so ours of course has been barkingbarkingbarking all the day long-- gar! Make her stop!
p.s.s. what is it about this time of year that makes me feel like a crabby old woman? Everything irritates me, and it's not even that special PMS time... I guess for starters: I hate the holidays with a mad passion, and I don't even know why-- it's not like my parents didn't buy me a pony for Christmas or got all sauced up on Christmas eve and beat us or *anything* like that. I have a deeply held suspicion that it's because I'm the cheapest and laziest girlie in all the land and don't want to spend any money on anyone or go out of my way to do anything I don't feel like. And sadly, once the mercury dips below 65 and there's no sunlight, I don't wanna do ANYTHING except maybe eat and sleep (so maybe a trip to parts south would increase my festive spirit-- no?)
On a serious note, a large part of it right now is that I see all these appeals for food drives, making donations, etc, everywhere-everywhere-everywhere and it rankles me, offends my stingy sensitivities... and then of course, throws me into fits of guilt for the rest of the season that I don't move out of my comfort zone and give my stuff away. And what would be more painful: giving away my $$ and missing it, feeling like an ass, or the guilt I feel at not donating? Cause for me, both are about the same.
I used to be bone poor, too, and it was a very traumatic experience for me; hated it, fear it constantly to this day, and thus my fear motivated me to take the opportunity to return to school. I was a single parent to a very demanding baby, racked up all kinds of school and living sorts of debt, had to drop my precious baby off at the daycare (which broke my heart of course), and now make as much in an hour as I made in a DAY at the job I was working just prior to starting school. Did I want to be a nurse? Was it the fulfillment of my dreams and hearts desire to be exposed to infectious body fluids and have my heart ripped out on a daily basis? Nooooooo. I picked nursing from the community college catalog and Occupational Outlook Handbook, calculated the choice carefully to select the best paying, most mom friendly occupation, and have wrestled with the benefits and consequences ever since.
So I think I'm just the slightest bit bitter when I hear of people living in poverty, not taking advantage of the opportunities to better themselves that they have, that I had, that would pull them out of poverty such that I wouldn't feel obligated to give above and beyond the programs funded by my tax $$. When I was poor, I lived a very spartan life and thus always had enough so I didn't go looking for free turkeys or presents; I didn't smoke, go to bars, wear brand new clothing, drive an expensive car, bla bla bla, so when I see people with nicer things than I even have now lining up for free stuff it kindof bugs me-- and it bugs me that it bugs me.
Even now, we watch every penny, have little debt, so we will be prepared if the economy bottoms out even more than it does (and it will, I have no doubt): so when the fun-living, recreating, "live for today", and/or self-actualizing folks start lamenting, I'm sure I'll feel even less charitable, and I'm tired of feeling bad about that. Cause at the heart of all this angst is my contention that when you make poor decisions (as I did when I married a meatball and ended up a single parent), it's precisely the pain of those bad decisions that will motivate you to better yourself: get an education, get a better job, pare down expenses, make wiser choices. And every time someone rushes in to save your ass and take care of your responsibilities, how motivating is that? Feel the burn: learn a lesson, change your life, the lives of your children. My Existential Dilemma of the Moment is not so much that I don't want to part with my hard earned money (although that's certainly part of it, I won't lie to you), but that giving it away won't be terribly useful anyway.
I would rather shove a stick in my eye than give my children a gift someone donated, eat beans out of a can for two months straight before asking for free food with a $4 pack of smokes hanging out of my leather jacket I got from the mall (even now, most of my jackets and those the kids wear are second hand); I would suck it up and take that opportunity to teach the kids about responsible spending and the true meaning of Christmas, and hopefully leave them with a lesson about how un-fun it is to be poor. And I'm tired about feeling bad about that, too.... it's not even fricken Thanksgiving yet, and I'm already awash with guilt and wrestling with the conflicting messages of the season. Maybe I'll donate to the local church that's holding a holiday meal and be done with it, until the appeals for saving the starving children in Africa start rolling in. At which point, I can get thrown into an even faster twirling tailspin at how large and hopeless this problem really is, and wrestle with even more complex issues such as saving AIDS babies, rapes in refugee camps in war torn Darfur, the conditions in Iraq, and make this season even *more* filled with soul scorching angst. I'll be sure to send an extra special thanks this year to the little bebbe Jesus for candy cane martinis and Tom and Jerry's... looks like I'm going to need a steady infusion from now until January 1st, oy!
On a while 'nother note, if our economy is so washed out that the elderly can't pay their bills, afford their medications, etc, then we need to take a look at that and fix whatever it is that's the cause of it. I'm guessing a large part of it is the medical system for these folks, the consequences of how the pharmaceutical industry is run and what our medical system has become as a result of it, etc and etc. I have a lot more charitable inclinations regarding the elderly, but even less resolution for them than the able bodied people standing in the turkey lines.
Is it too early for a cocktail (it's 10 am the following day...)? Really?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
I've enlisted every remedy I could dig up from my enclave of natural remedy texts, even resorting to swallowing cloves of raw garlic to scare up my immune system into shaking the crud from my nose, lungs and throat. The peridontist gave in to my appeals to prescribe me an antibiotic, a big leap for an au naturale girlie such as myself, but desperate times call for desperate measures... and the 4x/day yeast infection pills can start to work ANY-TIME-NOW (really, any old time. Now would be great!).
After two sleepless nights, the guy also finally prescribed me something-ahem-a little stronger than ibuprofen today, so I'm hoping tonight I can sleep like a wee, little baby (who's stumbled upon mommy's vicodin stash), yippie!
I'm off tomorrow, so things are looking up all over... I hope to lay in bed and surround myself with a brand new box of tissues and all the magazines I haven't had the time to read, so I can honk and ooze and snooze, all by my lonesome, all day long-- heaven!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Well I hope the girl makes it to school in one piece, makes it to school AT ALL. I'm running out of punishments... child is grounded, no TV, no car, and now is volunteering once a week at church, not sure where I could go from here (someone mentioned a year long missions trip, but I suspect there's plenty o trouble to be found even in the swamps of the Everglades, and then I wouldn't be available to levy my limp wristed hand of discipline and be the cappucino-bearing heavy...).
It's getting to be that time of year when I want everything to hurry up and get here so it can get gone: shorter days, longer nights, occasions frought with festivities and too much food I shouldn't (and won't) be eating: last night, a coworker had a bag of some peanut butter/chocolate bells that I tried-- yuck! Tasted all waxy and plastic-y--bleck! Good to revisit junk every now and again, makes me appreciate a worthy splurge when it presents itself (think I'm going to make this cranberry ribbon pie and see if it's up to my "good standards", lol). It's not that I've given up on my diet, but acknowledge that this is a nearly impossible time to refuse sweets, so I'm going to be very selective, and indulge when the right occasion presents itself. I also plan to keep going to the gym for spin and other classes at least 3 times/week... and when we've FINALLY passed the winter eqinox, when the days start getting longer and the holidays are over, I'll crank back up to the first stage of the "Fat Flush Plan" or something, and hopefully jump start myself back into losing that last 10# I'd like to.
On a whole 'nother note: I recently got a book promoted by a magazine I read that claims that I need to be 120# to be my "ideal weight". Wow! I can't even imagine being 120#, not even in my wildest fantasies! Cause even with months and months of low carb, no sugar, hard core spin classes, I've not even come close, ohwell. It's not a goal of mine, realize that that short of a large-limbed amputation or a virulent GI illness, this weight wouldn't be healthy for me, and am surprised that a well respected weight loss book would recommend a weight that seems highly unrealistic for someone who wasn't even that heavy or out of shape to begin with (maybe there's a chapter on "Bulimia: Weight Loss' Greatest Secret" that I haven't gotten to yet that might explain this).
You know what else won't be helping me make it through the impending darkness?
My favorite Sirius radio station "Sirius Disorder" (and all the other few stations I actually listened to: "Boombox", "The Beat", and a few others).
What am I going to do without David Johansen's "Mansion of Fun" show??
There was a time when I would rearrange my work schedule so I could be off on Tuesdays and listen to his show throughout the day while I was home, but no more.. and wouldn't you know it, the DJ's shows that I didn't care for are still going to be on other channels (i.e. the loquacious Vin Sclesa... good lord! The only DJ who rambled and rambled and rambled more than he played music-- he drove me nuts, and to change the channel to other stations once I couldn't stand his talking for one second longer). Did Larry Kirwan end up somewhere?? I loved his show, too.
I like change as much as the next guy, but am now stuck listening to stations such as "80's at 8" (which is kindof fun for a few songs, but after a short while makes me feel like a stalker of my youth and overly reminiscent, which I'm not; I'm just too lazy to keep changing the channel to give me a Disorder-like music variety).
And they don't even have channels that play some of the fantastic oddities David J did, boo!
Mebbe much like the flavorless chocolate peanut butter bells, satellite radio for me is no longer splurge worthy. I'll give the new line up a try, but unless they come up with something more interesting than what I've seen so far, I'm likely to cancel and save my $$ for iPod downloads, especially in this economy...
P.S. I just realized that I've been home now for 2 hours, and haven't turned the radio on *at all*. The thought of a day of endless 80's tunes is just, well, depressing. David J, Larry K-- wherefore art thou??
Saturday, November 8, 2008
It's also one of my favorite places to read; and as such, my favorite books all have warped pages (and why I own more than a couple library books, oops!). One such book is "Parenting With Fire", a book I've eagerly read, digested, wrestled with in the bath, and then promptly forgot about, as if I had never read it. Contained therein is the most marvelous, transformative parenting advice I have ever been exposed to in my life, but is so contrary to the lives we have all created for ourselves to date that implementing even the most minor of suggestions would require more than a couple painful adjustments, and more soul-searching than I am able to muster at the moment.
Buy it. Read it (it's on sale. How could you not?). Just be prepared to be challenged to a higher and more meaningful level of parenting, if not discover more than a couple reasons why your kids are struggling, and no one's having any fun.
Ask yourself, as I've been asking myself all weekend: why even have kids, if you aren't going to parent them? Even if you aren't very good at it, the very least you can do is stop making excuses and try.
I've spent the entire summer in a horrible cloud of narcissism; with the advent of fall, the reflective season of our lives, I'm more than long past due to turn over a new leaf.
Time to discover ways to renew my committment to my family and get back more of the life I didn't even realize I had lost (which had nothing to do with school, btw... but certainly didn't help).
More later-- I'm off to Wii Bowl with the kids:-)
Delightful and stirring coincidence here:
Friday, November 7, 2008
To prepare, you must first stop drinking coffee for a few days (I tell ya, I burned out my adrenals over the last couple weeks with the school stress, drinking too much espresso, and taking this stuff. I went into work on Monday this week all amped up, almost shaking, for no good reason except a lingering adrenalin high from writing those papers in a panic, the post-trauma from the surgery, and 1/2 cup of coffee. Sheeeeeeooooot. Me no likee.), and then:
Mmmmm! Crack-a-licious! And guaranteed to keep your wheels spinning for *21* miles, a new record (and without the fans! I know a lot of people hate those, so I didn't run over and turn them on today..).
I'm trying to get the kids rustled together to do something fun today, since we're all off. But the teenager doesn't want to do the "stoopid" thing that the 11 year old wants to do, and vicey-versey. Getting these kids together to do something is worse than wrestling a sack full o monkeys, sheesh!
Had an epiphany momnent in the afterglow of my workout this morning, which made me realize how funny it is that it takes weeks and weeks after something happens to make sense of it sometimes. I realized that I like to keep a visible undercurrent of chaos in my public life (changing jobs, shifts, etc) to serve as a foil to conceal the genuine chaos I have in my head all the time. It's a (deeply flawed) ADHD coping technique, one that seems to have backfired (according to the therapist), since the kids can't handle it. Bummer. And what do you do when there's a mismatched fit between kids and parent? That's the question of this stage of our lives, one that's not likely to have an answer:-(
Thursday, November 6, 2008
10 apples, peeled, cored, and thickly sliced
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon (+/-)
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg (+/-)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
SO here I am, two days post eye-zapping, which was ony the tiniest bit traumatic-- between the fact that they clearly wanted to get to lunch asap and stuffed 4 people in this creepy little room with the lights dimmed, took our glasses away so no one could see how freaked out we all were, put funny scrub caps on all of us, slipped a tablet of something under our tongues... there was a chick in there with a bad perm who craftfully dodged every quesion I asked (HEY! Thought I was the only one who was good at that...), and we had to sit there while they played the WORST new age-y music ever (like whale sounds under water, quite nausea inducing) and wait as they took us, one by one, into the even smaller creepy room to get zapped. It reminded me of something out of "Logan's Run", as each of us saps was waiting to get made into soilent green. I was third, so I had to sit there, and sit there, and sit there, listening to the people in the other room shout something undiscerable to the patient, listen to the loud "zap zap zapping", and then see the disconcerted patient stumble out of the room in a daze...
I know they slipped me a mickey of some sort, but I wanted to scream "it's NOT working" as they came to get me, but instead like a good little sheep, wandered in the room and laid on the table like they wanted me to, ready to pretty much pee on myself with sheer terror. I had no freaking clue what they were doing to my eyeballs, only that I probably wasn't doing it correctly, likely risking permanent blindness and/or disfigurement as they kept (really loudly) reminding me to "look into the orange light, look into the orange light Cyndi"-- well, sometimes I couldn't see the damn orange light-- in fact, they did something after getting that suction cup thingey on that made me only see stars for a while. Man! Was I freaked out.. I could smell the delicate flesh of my eye being zapped off and I was fairly certain I was about to pass out, when all of a sudden, it was over. The only thing I could see was the guy painting the flap back over my eye, but couldn't see all that well afterward; perm girl showed me a clock as we left the room and I suppose I was to be overwhelmed with joy at how well I could see it sans glasses, but didn't see it any better than before (everything was all coudy, as if I was down in the ocean with those damn whales). I got scooted out of there pretty quick and Jake and I found a Panera to grab a sandwich, and all I remember was having him lead me out of there like a drunken sailor, as my drugs must have finally kicked in, wheeeee!
Next thing I knew, it was 8 pm, I had a couple children climbing on me and Grace was blasting some gangster rap in the room next door, and Jake was asking me to come and eat PIZZA of all things... in my drug induced haze I wasn't about to turn down forbidden carbs, so my ass blames the ativan for eating 2 pieces of tasty, spinach artichoke pizza. Somehow I was then able to help the kids make caramel apples, roast pumpkin seeds, drink a (forbidden) martini, and then wander back off to bed.
Anyhoo, I tried for several hours to stare at the screen to write one of those damn papers last night, but I can't focus enough to really read what I write to discern if it's completely legible. I know that's normal, and anticipate a full return of my vision, but for now it's really really hard to write anything--the screen glows too much (I tried to drive home last night from Racine, yee-haaaa~ the lights were all haloes and it was pretty hard to see, gar!)
So I had a request for a new blog, and here it is, in all it's whiny glory. Bet you'll think twice before asking again, no?
Ok, one last whine before I get my ass in gear:
As I lay in bed this morning, I came to the awful realization that because I voluntarily chose to become a student again, I will be cursed to have a monkey on my back forever and always for TWO WHOLE YEARS!!!! WAHHHHHHH!!!! Never again in the next 24 months will I have a moment of free time that isn't frought with angst and/or guilt that I should be working on this project, writing this paper, bla bla bla. Dumbass! The only good thing I can see at the moment is that I'll have enough $$ left over from my student loans to pay off the kid's medical bills that insurance won't pay, and maybe enough left over to pay to have my root canal redone (since I had it in January of this year, and it's apparently still infected, insurance won't pay for it. But if I wait 3 years until the bone is degenerated and I need radical surgery, it'll probably get paid for, der!). Mebbe that's why I've felt so crummy the past few months despite all my herbal concoctions... my body has been brewing up a low grade infection for all this time and I've stayed fairly healthy, so hey! My immune system DOES kick ass, after all--some good news, finally:-) I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind and give the dermatologist a call tomorrow, too; as long as I'm swamped with medical debt, might as well get that biopsy done I've been putting off for years, tee hee. Get the whole schlomozzle done, so I can greet 2009 with a healthy, yet debt ridden, conscience, yippie-flippin-skippy!