Aug 27 2008

I’m Off!

By the time I post this, my (work) week will be finished. Sure, there’s a lot more that I need to get done here this week, but it ain’t gonna happen. There’s always next week. At least, until there isn’t… But I’m fairly positive that next week will come, and with it the chance to slack off some more get some more work done.

Until then, play nicely. No hitting, scratching, hair pulling, or name calling. Don’t watch too much tv and go to bed on time. And eat your veggies.

I’ll be playing hippie in the sunshine with my son, my guitar, live music, and lots of beer.

Have a great long weekend!

Aug 26 2008

Scenes From a Torture Chamber

… I mean the Dentist’s office**.

This morning I had to go get a filling. It’s been a while, thanks to my parent’s prudent bonding of my teeth as a child and decent oral hygiene ever since. I arrived at 8 and was told that I didn’t have an appointment.

Wait… what?

Oh- sorry! The appointment is at 10:20. Come back then.


So I arrived at 10:10 for my appointment. And waited. And waited. And what happened next? Yup- I waited.

Whatever. I got to see pictures of Portia and Ellen’s wedding and listen to the man in the operating room next to me snore as he was under sedation.

Then they came to numb me. I got topical first and then, after about 10 more minutes of waiting (and more snoring from next door), the dentist came to give me the shot. And? She’s awesome. I was freaked out (I HATE NEEDLES), but I closed my eyes, breathed deeply (she even complimented me on my “beautiful breathing”), and it was over with hardly a pinch.

However, when she was finished, it looked like I had lost a brief fight with a pole.

(Taken from my Blackberry all sneaky-like, because I wasn’t supposed to have my phone on at all. Eeep!)

Do you see that lip? I didn’t intend to come away from the dentist looking like I’d had collagen injection. I told the dentist that I was on to her- she was trying to turn me into a Muppet. She looked at me a little oddly.

It felt like they had surgically attached a vienna sausage to my face where my upper lip should be. At one point during the filling process, she kind of flapped my lip, while at the same time the guy next door started snoring again. I was doing my best not to shake with laughter as she was trying to drill, thinking that that probably wasn’t entirely conducive to the process. Or to being able to keep my teeth.

Anyway, now, 6 hours later, the swelling is gone. At one point I was ready to rip my lip off because I kept feeling an itch there that I could not scratch. It was making me insane! But now I can talk and scratch like a “normal” person once more. Hurrah. And perhaps I’ll be able to keep my teeth for at least one more day.

(** I actually really like going to the dentist. Except for the needles.)

Aug 25 2008

And So

And so I cleaned. It happens occasionally.

The stress builds up and I start to lose it over all of the things I can’t control, and so I take back control over those things I can.

The chaos had gotten to be too much. I could overlook it when I was feeling okay, but when everything else went crazy, my ocd took over.

So yesterday I cleaned. I organized Cole’s room, I scrubbed all of the baseboards in the house, I de-nastified the shower, I washed all of the bathroom rugs, I did several other loads of laundry, including the towels that had been sitting there forever, I picked everything off of our bedroom floor and vacuumed the crap out of it. When the vacuum started to smell funny, I even turned it off and pulled out every piece of hair/string/floss that had been wrapped around the beater bar. I scrubbed the toilets- even the backsides.

And last night, for just a little while, I sat in my newly very clean room and played my guitar, exploring bits of the “Guitar for Dummies” book I got for a dollar from the library on Saturday. And I felt really good. No headache- the only pain was from my fingertips re-callousing and the bruise on my ankle that I got from smacking into the rocking chair. No guilt- I worked so hard that I was more than deserving of a break. No sadness- my house was clean, my family was healthy and happy. Just me, my guitar, and the tablature for Neko Case.

And it was good.

This is a short week for me. I’ll be trying to leave with Cole Thursday morning for a 4-day music festival in the mountains. I’m taking my guitar.

Aug 22 2008

The Day After

You know how sometimes you just need to say something or write something, and once you have that out of your system suddenly the world doesn’t feel so much like you’re trapped 100 meters under water and your head is seconds away from imploding? Thanks for giving me that space yesterday.

When I left work at the end of the day, the hilarious universe still had a few more tricks left for me. Cole and I had to go to the store where he proceeded to act like an asshole, and capped the trip by trying to bite me three times. I also had to field a phone call from my mother, which is something akin to playing hot potato with a goddamn grenade these days. We never know who will explode first! Fun for all!

I got home, made a craptastic Boboli pizza, made John give Cole his bath, and then tried to put Cole to bed. He fought me so much on brushing his teeth that, after several warnings about the consequences, I finally said “OK! No books, no songs, the lights are going off and it’s time to go to sleep. Goodnight.” and closed the door behind me. After he screamed “WAIT MOM!” for several minutes, I went back in and told him that he should remember what happened tonight because it will happen from now on when he fights me. I said that if he wants book and song time at night, he has to let me brush his teeth without the fighting. I’m done with that bullshit (I did not say “bullshit” to my child). And then I kissed him, told him I love him, said goodnight and sweet dreams, and walked out of the door again. Again he screamed “WAIT MOM!” for minutes, but that time I didn’t go back in. He finally realized that I wasn’t coming back and went to sleep.

John and I watched Buffy and then went to bed.

This morning, I woke up first, got up right away, and took my shower. I got dressed, made coffee, and was sitting and reading my book when I heard Cole’s door open. I went to greet him with a hug and kisses, and he happily hugged and kissed me back, even kissing my cheeks like I do to him. Then he climbed into his “house” (two laundry drying racks with a blanket over the top) and made me Superman pancakes and fed them to me. They may have been made from dog hair and imagination, but they were delicious, and so filling!

Then I took him to school and laughed with his teacher and drove to work and read emails and drank water and talked to people and did my job.

And that’s what you do next. You live.

Aug 21 2008


Today is not good.

I’m sorry, but I have to write it or… I don’t know what.

I’ve had a headache for the past 2+ weeks, with no breaks except when I’m asleep.

Today I woke up badly. I was off. Not that I’m a morning person to begin with, but it was worse.

I went to the bathroom, only to discover that I’d gotten my period when I had woken up in the middle of the night to pee. I stared at it, unbelieving, for full minutes. Not only did I not want to see it, but it wasn’t even supposed to be here until Saturday. It caught me off guard.

Cole fought me about every little thing after John left for work. Let’s put a diaper on. NO! Time to get dressed. NO! Put on your shoes. NO! Wait… YES! (He does love those shoes.) Let’s go to the car. NO! You can’t take the lion flashlight into daycare. YES I CAN! You have to take off your Batman cape, too. NO! Please give me a hug. NO! Can I have a kiss? NO!


I headed over to Quest to get my blood drawn for tests, which also meant that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink yet. I sat in the unfriendly waiting room on the awful, stained chairs trying not to think about needles. When my turn came, the band on my arm really hurt, though the draw itself was quick and easy. For once.

I went to get coffee where the clerk was doing hard sales for domatcha to every. fucking. customer in line ahead of me. It took ten goddamn years for me to get to the counter. She was so fucking chipper that I was ready to punch her happy face in. But I was nice. I held it together.

I got to work to hear that my supervisor had been calling for me. That’s never good. Why he didn’t call my cell, I’ll never know. When I listened to his message, it was clearly an attempted guilt-trip, telling me that something I produced hadn’t met his expectations. I’ve since seen it, and I don’t know how I could have done better with what I was given.

I’ve been pestered today by the people I dislike the most here. One won’t fucking leave me alone. The other decided that he’d do his best to break down another of my coworkers- a guy who is the least deserving of that kind of treatment of almost anyone I know. And sure, it didn’t happen to me, but I got to hear every stupid word. That was fun.

I need a break. I feel like quitting, but I can’t. I can’t do that to my family. But I also feel like I’m headed toward a breakdown. I sit behind the closed door of my office and try to sob as soundlessly as possible. I feel broken. I feel strained. I feel weak. I feel sick. I feel sad. I feel like I’m in mourning, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how far I flex. I don’t know my limits. I don’t know my breaking point.

I don’t know how I’d break; with a bang or a whimper?

I don’t know what to do next.

Please tell me what responsible people do next.

Aug 20 2008


It is my birthday. That is all.

(Um… 29, not 30. Yet.)

Aug 19 2008

Dancing Around the World

I’m really loving this video today. In fact, it nearly made me cry. Hormonal much?
Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Be sure to watch with the sound on.

Aug 18 2008


Based on the comments on my previous post about what I should tell Cole, I clearly need to grow the fuck up and gain a little maturity for my own self about genitalia. I assume most people know this about me, but I am terribly, horribly, completely-over-the-top self conscious. It’s BAD. Like, sometimes I can’t actually pay attention to conversations because I’m so concerned that I might smell or have something in my teeth. I do not normally enjoy myself around other people, mostly because I do not really enjoy myself.

So to have to talk to Cole about something about which I am embarrassed in a way that, hopefully, doesn’t convey to him just how mortifying it is? Is huge. Cole is unendingly observant, and fully willing to point out just how red my face is turning.

But I know it has to be addressed some time, and probably soon. With this pottying thing (which is going SO WELL! He even TOLD us that he needed to pee! HUGE STEPS, people!), the places where pee comes out are sort of in the spotlight. I also don’t particularly take huge measures to hide my naked self from him. Not that I run jiggling around the house all the time (the bouncing is kind of uncomfortable), but I like to be able to walk around in my own bedroom and bathroom freely, no matter the state of my attire (or lack thereof).

But it’s really this vagina thing that’s getting to me. Boobs didn’t phase me. We call them “babas,” because he asked about them so early that he couldn’t really say the word “breasts” (heck- he probably can’t quite say it now). But here’s the thing about boobs- everybody likes them. I mean, don’t you? You don’t exactly get the same kinds of jokes about boobs that you do about vaginas. In my life, apparently, I have taken those “jokes” to heart (not that they’ve even been made about me, but still…).

I also have my very own, special mixed feelings about my own vagina (fuck- I even have a hard time admitting that I have one, though I think you’ve all figured that out for yourselves by now). How weird is it that I have a problem teaching my son that word, but I have no problem admitting to near-strangers that Cole ripped the crap out of me coming out and that my stitches looked (or so the nurse said- I didn’t look) like a smiley face? Hi! I’m smiley-face crotch and I’m happy to see you!

I’ll give you a moment to stop gagging.

(And see- there I go again. Assuming that you’ll be disgusted because it involves a vagina.)

So here we go- Self? Dear Danielle? Darling 29 (on Wednesday!) year old woman? KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF AND ACT YOUR AGE. Vaginas are not disgusting, yours included. It’s just a part of your body and will remain so no matter how much you try to disown it. EVERYONE already knows you have one! Most of them still are willing to talk to you! You talk to other women all of the time without giving ONE SINGLE THOUGHT to the state of their vaginas. They have a similar lack of concern about yours! So fucking get your head straight (possibly try to fish it out of your ass first) and teach your son what you know is right. It’s one little word. Don’t further the vagina disrespect.

And, in the future, realize that it shouldn’t take comments on your dumb blog for you to do what is right.

Aug 18 2008

Now I’m Hungry

Copy the following list. Bold those you’ve eaten and italicize those you never want to try.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J; sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters (Blech)
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi (but I didn’t really like it much)
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects (A Ladybug or two)
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth $120 or more (I wish)
46. Fugu (not willing to risk my life for food)
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel (OH YUMMY!)
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut (But I didn’t especially like it. I’d be willing to try again)
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal (NEVER AGAIN)
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini (That’s the way to make it)
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips (I actually really like them. You just can’t expect them to be anything like chocolate)
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst (If it says “wurst,” the chances are that I won’t want to eat it)
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis (Does anyone ACTUALLY like this?)
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette (Intestine? NO.)
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe (Also not so much with the brain frying)
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare (I’ve had rabbit- is that what they mean? Rabbit is yummy)
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse (Probably- I was in France)
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor (I freaking HATE lobster. Barf)
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake (Rattle, in fact)

I was able to bold more than I anticipated. Now I really want some indian food. Or bagels. Or rabbit. Dang- I’m just really hungry.

Aug 15 2008

My Grammy

Last Sunday (I originally wrote that as “Sinday” which I find utterly hilarious), my Grandmother called, as usual. She calls my parent’s house every Sunday night, and usually the phone makes the rounds and we all get a chance to say a quick hello.

Last Sunday, though, my father took the phone (it’s his Mom) and closed himself in his room. When he came out, he had already hung up. I knew something wasn’t quite right.

It turns out that my Grandmother has been having heart attacks. She went in for some pain in her arm and, upon running a few extra tests, the doctors discovered that she has had more than one heart attack in the recent past… and she never realized!

My Grammy will be 87 this month. I was already afraid for her, and now it’s even worse. When will the next one come? Will it be worse? What if, as stubborn as she is, she tries to blow it off?

Ive been campaigning to move her up here. She lives in Arizona, though, and moving to California would rob her of her community, her support network, that she’s worked all these years to build up. Add to that the disgusting state of health care in this town and… Let’s just say “Not likely.” If she was in need of great help or unable to fend for herself, it would be different, but I’d never wish those things on her just so that I could have her near me.

I also wish I could visit her more often, but flights to Phoenix aren’t the $40 they used to be. And now that Cole is old enough to need a seat too? A trip to visit becomes a seriously expensive proposition.

So I send pictures and emails. I keep in touch how I can. It’s not the same, but I’m at a loss of what else to do.

She’s just been on my mind a lot lately, understandably, I suppose.