Caterwauling

My 4 1/2 year old niece hates naptime. She gets good and crabby without one, and she will fight you to the death if she thinks you’re trying to knock her out for a while and go do something that she could derive great enjoyment from destroying.

But once she gets forced down for an hour, something miraculous happens. She’s pleasant. For 10 minutes, anyway, till she realizes the cleaning or errands that were achieved without her doing her level best to undo it.

My friend refers to her kids (the other’s 2 1/2) as her weapons of mass destruction. And she always goads me about when I will make her an aunt. We all know the answer after I talk to her — buy stock in Trojans, ’cause those kids may be the cutest I’ve ever seen, but they’re not the poster children for reproduction.

I say all of this to pontificate on whether I got a nap once in awhile, would I be any less wound-up. Like, if I could just tell everyone to go fuck off for an hour or two (preferably in those words, but maybe I can soften it up for some) and curl up with my black fleece blankie and a cup of peppermint tea, would I back away from the mental taser gun that I would use on everyone with INVISIBLE COMMON SENSE?

I was telling a friend about another friend’s goofy-ass boyfriend. To describe him, I said:

“He’s the poster child for protection … witness protection.”

That is perhaps an understatement, but you get the idea.

Bellagio Winter Garden 34, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

I’m taking advantage of photos supposedly being able to speak a thousand words, ’cause I’m out of the ones that have more than four letters.

Spent all week editing and got caught with my gutchies down yesterday when I was supposed to have been WRITING. So that’s what I did. Which means someone will ask me today why I haven’t made much editing progress.

I terminated a relationship with a shitty vendor (am so tempted to link to them) only to be told to un-terminate it for one more month. Although I tried to explain that a great deal of my time goes to managing their overwhelming incompetence, I was good and asked if we could undo the orders, but as usual they didn’t get back to me. It has taken me since Jan. 18 to get these bastards on the phone, if that tells you anything. When they said my contact was on the phone, I was like, “I will hold all day if I have to.” And the want to meet with me to sell me on future services. FUCKING HAH.

I can’t win. I don’t know why I even try. Oh wait, yes I do know. It’s that AutoAlert from my bank that arrives at midnight on the 31st and 15th.

Yesterday I arrived home to more whining and complaining a court summons over a ticket I didn’t have the money to pay. Eat me with whipped cream and a fucking cherry on top over that suspended registration. Gah. Like I don’t have enough goddamned problems.

I did get some good news today in that Tuesday is now a free day on my trip. I suppose I should be a good girl and catch up on months of backlog. But shit, maybe this is a sign from the gods that I can ease out of crisis mode for a day. But if I slow down for a minute, I might just go straight into apoplectic shock. I mean, no cats, no family, no e-mails … what if my only contribution to the world is meant to be making things easier on everyone else? Will the Apocalypse occur if I am actually calm and happy for once?

Overhead Orchard, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

I got nothin’ tonight. Really. But I did post some photos of the Bellagio and Mandalay Bay hotels in my Flickr account on Sunday, so whee.

This is what you see when you roll your eyes look up at the registration desk at the Bellagio in Vegas. (See the whole Vegas set for photographic evidence of four of my last five stays there.)

I keep meaning to post some photos from Vegas that I took last summer. I am pretty sure I have a shot in my iPhoto of the Monte Carlo pre-last week’s fire. I just remember getting so sick on that trip that I still haven’t even taken my souvenirs out of their bags yet — and that was April 2007!

I have another trip coming up, and I was just bemoaning the fact that you have to run yourself ragged in order to prepare for time away from work, and then when you get to the out-of-town meetings/events, your immune system is shot and you’re with strangers who have no problem snarfing on you. We’ve got to find an easier way — maybe to let folks rest up and gather their strength before sending them out of their element.

Of course, when did I have a problem being out of my routine? I tend to go ballistic while I’m stuck in it!

Anyway, no complaints — even though I was bleary-eyed exhausted when I took this photo (as I am every day of my life), at least I have a good enough camera to capture beauty and even magic when I see it.

Guess what I did this morning? I wrote to Oprah. I wrote to Dr. Phil. I even wrote to Tyra Banks. I also wrote to a foundation. Because I am all about trying to get help for my mother to address some health problems.

If y’all have a few thousand dollars to spare, that’s all I’m looking for. That and my sanity and peace of mind, but hopefully that will return sooner rather than later.

If you’re into praying for miracles, I still believe in them. I know that most of us can’t spare 20 bucks, let alone 20 grand. But, you know. If you’re so inclined to keep her physical health and my mental health in your prayers, I’m willing to give the “it takes a village” thing a go.

I can’t believe I had to sign something saying I’d be willing to appear on those afternoon talk shows. If THAT doesn’t show you the desperation of the situation, I don’t know what WOULD!