Coming soon to a wall near me...

We went camping last weekend, and one of my objectives was to get fall pictures of everyone. Including a family portrait. I don't use photo studios. I take all the pictures of my kids and I either tripod the family portraits or have my sister take it. So, here are the pictures that will soon be showing up on my wall.

Our family portrait! This will also be our Christmas card photo this year. Much nicer than the crazy Easter family portrait we got. LOL

Olivia - age 5. Sometimes she is so cooperative and makes such a good little model.

My girls. Olivia (5), Zoe (22 m), Isabelle (3 1/2). I can't get anything remotely formal looking of the three of them and I think that's the best thing about all the shots I get of them. They are totally "them."






Isabelle - 3 1/2 years old. This was literally the only shot she would sit still for.

Zoe - 22 months. Hers are usually pretty candid too.

I have to vent for a minute

I am so aggravated right now I can't think straight. And to be honest, I'm not sure WHY this makes me so angry. Yeah, I feel like I have the right to be angry, but I'm seething.

A while back, I asked the landlady about painting. I mentioned two of the bedrooms specifically because the paint in them is just hideous. I also mentioned the nicotine stains in the living room and that it looked bad because I've had to wash parts of the wall due to Izzy's coloring on them. I remember this because the conversation went off on a tangent at that point because I had mentioned that we stopped smoking and the landlady didn't realize I had been a smoker and then asked how we quit.

So, she said we could paint and she'd pay us back for the paint because they can deduct it from their taxes.

We painted the living room a little over a week ago.

This weekend, while we were out of town, the landlord installed new flooring in the kitchen (looks like stone - very pretty - we're waiting to hear the landlady call it a stone floor since she thinks the laminate in the rest of the house is hard wood flooring). We came back to a note from the landlady stating that she only agreed to painting the two bedrooms.

Bullshit.

Normally I'd be like, "Oh no! Did I misunderstand? Did I not pay attention?" It happens to me. But I REMEMBER this conversation. I know I mentioned the living room and I don't recall her EVER limiting what rooms we were able to paint. I am so pissed off about this. I suppose we'll have to paint it back. What a monumental waste of my time! Like I have any free time as it is... I wasted an entire weekend painting the living room, and now will have to waste another. I wonder where I can find nicotine stain colored paint? And I'm just going to forget about painting the bedrooms. I'm sure she'll find something to flip out about there too. Plus, I'm feeling a bit bitchy and she can forget about being able to deduct anything from her taxes.

I just can't stand this woman. I've tried to overlook this feeling ever since we moved in, but I do. not. like. her. Her husband is super nice, but you can't ask him a damn thing because it's almost like she'll contradict him just to contradict him. When I asked about having a dog once, she got this really annoyed tone of voice and said "I asked you when you moved in if you had a dog and you said no." Well, we didn't, and didn't have plans to, but thought we'd ask about it before giving it any more serious thought. You would think she would be relieved that we ask about these things... I know plenty of people who don't. I'm just so angry. She makes me feel like we can't feel like this is our "home." We like the house, we like the location, but I don't know how much longer I can deal with HER.

It's not working!

I used to think people who refused to take generic medications or certain brands of medications because they didn't work for them were crazy. You know, like people who wouldn't take this acid blocker because it didn't work as well as the other acid blocker. They're both acid blockers and should both work. Shut up.

Yeah, well, as usual, I was wrong. One antidepressant is not the same as another.

When my Lexapro samples started running out, I checked the pharmacy website to see how much it would cost. There is no generic for Lexapro and it was going to run me about $30 a month. My doctor mentioned switching me to Celexa, which has a generic, and I checked and it was $8. So I called and had him prescribe the Celexa instead.

Bad move.

I made the switch sometime around my normal "cranky week" of the month, so I expected to be a total grouch because I always am then. But it's been 3 weeks now and the grouch has not left. On Lexapro, I was much more level-headed. Right now I feel like Linda Blair right about the time the pea soup starts flying.

I hate this feeling. I'm tired - exhausted - all the time. I have to force myself to do ANYTHING. I'm struggling with controlling my eating again. I just want to run far, far away. I cannot concentrate on anything and forget having a conversation with me that isn't completely thrilling because I'll just shut down in the middle of it and not hear a thing you say. I feel like a crazy person. I act like a crazy person.

Exactly how I felt when I went to the doctor to begin with. The Celexa is not working for me.

I think I'll call the doctor on Monday and get switched back. If I have to pay more, I think it will be money well spent. I feel like such a pest. I go years without going to the doctor and now I feel like I'm calling them nonstop.

Conferences.... ugh.

Every year about this time, I have to go to a work-related conference. I work in the medical field, but I do office work. I'm not clinical at all. So 75% of what goes on at these conferences have nothing to do with me. And what does is super boring.

I totally forgot about it today. I got to work in my smurf blue scrubs, no make-up, hair all crazy (because there is no other look with this godawful haircut)... and said "Oh crap! I have that stupid conference." I had planned on looking like a human being and enjoy being able to fit in my brown slacks yet again, but no... baggy scrubs and psycho hair for me.

I ate my breakfast waiting on my coworker to get there. I considered taking my sandwich and apple for lunch, but they normally have grilled chicken breasts and salad for lunch, and I can work with that for lunch. So everything was set and I left for the conference.

I got there and had to explain twice that I had already eaten breakfast and therefore did not need a danish. The day started with Medicare updates, which is about as exciting as watching a slug cross the room. Luckily the monotone speaker from years before was replaced by a guy who actually had a slight sense of humor. The information was dry as a Triscuit, but he at least cracked a couple of jokes.

Then we got to the only reason I wanted to go... the motivational speaker. He was cute, he was hilarious, but I didn't feel all that motivated. But he was funny, so it's OK. I really did want some motivation though.

After that was a speaker talking about audits, which did pertain to me, but only made me realize that I REALLY need a new job. Boring, tedious, mind-numbing. Ugh. I felt like my brain was about to ooze out of my skull. My boss had driven the motivational speaker to the airport and when she got back, she asked, "Did you learn anything important from the speaker I missed?" Um, yeah. I need a new job! But no, I didn't say that. I just got a raise, I can't piss her off yet. LOL

Then it was lunch time. I was starving, because I normally eat lunch about 10:30 and it was noon. They took the covers off of the buffet servers and all I saw was this mass of cheese and grease. Seriously? Some kind of Mexican chicken enchilada casserole. Refried beans covered with like an inch of cheese. Mexican rice. Chips and cheese dip. Could they give us more cheese? Where is the boring chicken and salad I was counting on? I'm trying to lose weight here people! I don't want to eat a pound of cheese for lunch. I took little bits of stuff, but I'm sure if I could even figure out how to enter it in my food diary, it would be ridiculous. I'll just go on with the rest of my day as planned. Once upon a time I would have counted the whole day as an "off" day and eaten whatever I wanted the rest of the day, but I really intend to otherwise stay on track.

But what I don't understand is this... this is a HEALTHCARE conference. In a HOSPITAL. Catered by the HOSPITAL. And the food is completely and totally unHEALTHy. Danishes for breakfast, ooey-gooey cheese for lunch? That's just not right.

Lucky for me, I got to leave halfway through the next speaker, who was speaking about infection control. When she started, she had the coolest accent and I thought "oh, great, sure this speaker will be interesting and I have to leave." But she wasn't interesting. She read straight from her Power Point slides and, no matter how hard you try, MRSA and surgical site infections are not exciting. Disgusting, but not exciting.

Then I got stuck behind a truck painting lines on the road. AND a person driving 5-10 miles UNDER the speed limit. I got home just in time to scoop up Zoe and run to get Izzy from Mother's Day Out. And, on a tangent, I'm going to start calling it Father's Day Out. Bill is the only one getting a break from this. Actually, I need to call it Father Needs a Nap. Yeah, I think that's what I'll call it.

My brain is still not quite awake. Forgive me.