Boy Terror isn't a christian. Not that shocking.

There was a time, long ago, when I was very religious.  I grew up in a strict conservative church, and it shaped every aspect of my life.  I assumed I would raise my children the same way.  In fact, I once got into a very heated argument with my boyfriend of the time because he said HIS children would attend public school (gasp!  Public school!  With heathens!!) and I was 100% sure MY children would never set foot into such a den of evil.
Things change, obviously.  I've touched on the basics of religion with the Terrors, but we are very clearly an atheist house.  Girl Terror patted my arm and said "Such a nice story" when I told her about angels.  I wasn't sure what Boy Terror thought until this week.  Hubby was taking him to piano lessons...

Hubby was driving by the church his mom used attend.

Hubby:  Grandma used to take me to that church.
Boy Terror:  What did you do there?
H:  We sang, people prayed, and read the Bible.
Boy:  That must have been pretty boring, since Jesus and God aren't real.

I admit, I am a bit surprised the lightening hasn't found me yet.  If my father were dead, he'd be rolling in his grave.  I'm probably going to hell.

Ups and downs.

Back in the fall, I heard that my anti-depressant was being linked to heart problems.  Fatal type problems.  I'm a fan of being alive, so after talking to my doctor I decided to switch brands.  It has been a roller coaster of a time since then.  The first one we tried did not work.  Did not, did not, did not.  In fact, it made me much worse.  Quitting it was also one of the hardest things I've gone through.  The second brand worked (yay!) but gave me hives.  Hmmmm.   I like being cheery, but I don't like itching.  On to brand three.  So far, this one seems to be okay.  It's still a pretty low dose, so I feel like I'm not taking anything, but I'm not itching, and that's a good thing.
If you ever want to make a person crazy, play around with their meds for 8 months.  Or better yet, mess around with their SPOUSE'S meds....I'm pretty sure hubby is getting ready to run away from home.
All this to say I haven't dropped off the planet, I will blog again, and if you know me in real life I'm very sorry for the moodiness you've been subjected to.  Things will get better, I promise.

Why?

At 4:00 am Hubby got up to pee.  Not a problem, except the animals assumed it was MORNING!  TIME TO RISE AND SHINE!!  and proceeded to make sure I was awake.  I finally gave in just before 5 and rolled out of bed. 
I love my pets, honestly.  So I hugged them, and kissed them, gave them breakfast, sent the bouncy dog out to pee, and started the coffee.
Around 5:30 I realized I hadn't seen the dog in awhile.  Scipio the cat was curled up on a heating vent, but Lucy the dog was nowhere to be seen.
I went downstairs looking for her, and found that evil creature all curled up UNDER A BLANKET on the couch.  Sound asleep.  Having succeeded in getting me out of bed, she felt her job was done and she was resting up for the busy day of sleeping ahead. 

Moving on.

I wanted to be all profound and stuff, but my brain is not co-operating.  Good news!  Fawn, over at Fawnahareo's Place, gave me a great idea.  By that I mean I'm totally copying her "Year in Review" post.  Thanks, Fawn!!

The first sentence of the first post from each month:

January:  Hmmmm....I was actually gone from blogging until May.  So let's start there!
May:  Hmmm....lately I've found myself composing blog entries in my head.  Perhaps it's time to come back.
June:  I went to a retirement party for a fellow teacher last night, and it was great.
July:  It is summer vacation, and I would like to be sleeping.
August:  We went camping last week, and it was a blast.
September:  Girl Terror and I were looking for something to watch on TV the other evening.
October:  Communicating with a seven year old boy.
November:  You know how just don't do something, thinking you will do it later?
December:  Apparently there is a very good reason why I should NOT be allowed to interact with the general public.

You know, Fawn's list was far more interesting.  I obviously need to work on my opening lines, and maybe it's time to find INTERESTING things to write about!

The Boy Terror makes me nervous.

It's no secret that Boy Terror is a bit.....odd.  Different.  Unique!  That's a better word.  He's unique.  This is the list I found yesterday on my grocery list pad (spelling is NOT his specialty):

full grocery bags   8
swich'es                29
pet's                     82
dog toy's              9
stocking's             15
door's                  16
dish'es                  231
                            462

After I stopped twitching (I'm an English teacher by training.  The misuse of the apostrophe killed several of my brain cells) I asked a few clarifying questions.
Apparently, we do have 29 light switches in the house.  The 82 pets boggled me, until he reminded me about the Tryops.  I guess there are 80???  I asked him if he really did count all the dishes, but he just estimated.  And then, assuming there were plenty of other things in the house, he doubled his biggest number and declared "There are 462 things in this house!"

Is it time to call a professional yet????

Dave

On November 26th, a very dear friend of ours passed away.  Dave and my husband were friends for 25 years.  Dave was the best man in our wedding, and we were honored to be the attendants at his.  You never expect to lose a friend this early in life.  I feel ripped off, and cheated.  I want just one more day to tell him how much he meant to me, and how sad life will be without his smile.  Even when we fought, when we tormented each other, and when I said "I'm not speaking to you anymore!" I always knew Dave would be there for me.
Dave wasn't the sort to want a funeral service of any kind, so last night his friends and family gathered to laugh, cry, and tell stories.  We raised toasts of tequlia shots to Dave, and took comfort in each other.
There is no way to describe my sadness.  I know Dave would be completely pissed off at me for crying, so I'll try to remember his big laugh, contagious smile, and crazy sense of humor.

Going postal

Apparently there is a very good reason why I should NOT be allowed to interact with the general public.  I have lost my "niceness".  In my defense, it's been a horrible week.  I'll talk about that another day...

SO.  I went to the post office last night to pick up a parcel.  (The stupid parcel was not even for ME.  Ugh.)  There were kazillion people in line, since it's December now, and every single person in the city MUST mail tacky crap to every relative they've ever met.  No problem.  I knew there would be a line.  I was patient.  I waited, and smiled, and did not punch the man behind me who had no sense of personal space.  I also did not have a completely innappropriate conversation on my cell phone, like that other woman.  Seriously, was there no other moment in her day when she could have told "Shannon" all about her beer diarrhea???  ANYWAY.....
When I got to the front of the line, I smiled like a decent human being, and said to the postal clerk "Hi!  How are you?  I'm just here to pick up a parcel."  She said "Other than being overworked and underpaid, I'm FINE."
Hmmmm.  Not  quite what I was expecting.  I didn't have an answer ready for that.  So I made the mistake of just saying whatever the hell popped into my mind.  That is NEVER a good idea.  My mind needs a heavy duty filter between my thoughts and my mouth. 
"I guess, in this economy, the best you can do is just be grateful you HAVE a job..."

Not the thing to say if you want smiles with your service.  Not at all.