This is serious, people...

I am being threatened daily. I wake up every day feeling bone-chilling terror. Yep, it's another day and that means one less day I have to prepare for Christmas. Our Christmas countdown calendar has Santa Clause on it and, at this point, he looks like Pennywise to me as I change 07 days until Christmas to 06. 06???????????????????????? I get to work and anxiously check my 5,000 Amazon orders. So many of them say "guaranteed delivery by December 24th at 8pm". THE FUCK? Amazon better come through.

Side note: Will I be wrapping everything after 9pm on Christmas Eve? I'm supposed to be long drunk before then. THIS MAKES ME FEEL STRESS AND I AM ALREADY NOT A CALM PERSON.

In addition to my Pennywise countdown calendar, my son remembered that we made Christmas cookies with Grandma last year and expressed his immense interest in experiencing this joy again. (Thanks, Mom.) In my last post I declared that no baking would be done. DAMN IT. I think I am making cookies with the kiddo on Monday since I have the whole week off and, therefore, the time to make Christmas as merry as effing possible. I will not be using Mom's fabulous (and labor intensive) recipe. I plan to buy one of those sugar cookie mixes and some cheap frosting. Hell, I might even just buy already made sugar cookies.

Side note: Baking will require a box of wine. I have needs and standards.

At some point, I will be making the reindeer food. This is actually pretty easy but I am still pissed that this has become a thing. There was no glittery reindeer food scattered in the front yard in my day and I turned out just fine (right??????).

I will remember to set out cookies and milk for Santa. Then, after the child goes to bed, I will pretend to eat the cookies and leave a thank you note. I will sneak Santa's presents down under the tree, along with the presents from Rudolph and Poof.

Side note: This is all super fun because for the last two years my child has refused to sleep so all the Santa crap has to be stealthier than that whole catching Bin Laden thing that happened. Christmas Eve after the child is "sleeping" is like Zero Dark Thirty in my house. I'm asking for night vision goggles for Christmas next year.

One Christmas Eve chore that I don't mind is sending Poof back to the North Pole. Farewell, you little pain in the ass!

For all my complaining, I do love this time of year. I love that I can create magic for my son. I know it won't last forever and I will be sad when some of the magic is gone. So, I will be Santa and Rudolph and Poof and whatever else it takes to make my son feel the joy oh the holidays for as long as possible. Even if that means being threatened by a countdown calendar and baking...

My little Christmas corner where I snuggle with the kiddo and the pets. Makes it all worth it. Merry Christmas, everyone!

The Damn Elf is Back

Yep, it's that time of year. The wonderful holiday season that translates into almost nothing but more work for me. I know, I know. I sound cranky. And I really am not as bitter as this blog post will make me appear BUT the month of December is nothing but hosting an endless party for my 7 year old. The "fun" begins with the return of our Elf on the Shelf on the night of Thanksgiving. I love the joy that my son shows when he sees that Poof has come back from the North Pole. I do NOT love that I have to remember to move him every night, especially when I forgot to move him the very first night of his return. Elf fail already? Some creative Pinterest Mom is going to show up and kick my ass for that faux pas.

I try to get creative with Poof, I really do. I know all the lists about "101 and 1 Things to do with Your Elf" and some of them are awesome. Congrats to the Moms who think these genius ideas up! I'm super grateful for feeling subpar with my Elfing skills. One of the times I tried to really mix it up with the damn spy from the North I had him taken hostage by Scooby. Taped that little tattletale sucker to the wall... with GORILLA TAPE. It didn't occur to me just how sticky that shit is until I was at the office and showing co-workers what an awesome, creative Mom I was and they pointed out that I would probably need to repaint my living room after I freed Poof. I will admit, I seriously considered telling my son that Poof had committed a great Elf felony (like wanting to be a dentist instead of making toys) and was sentenced by Santa to imprisonment on the wall forever just to avoid damage to my living room. Luckily, it turned out that I hadn't been very overzealous with my hostage-taking so the tape came off with paint intact.

Side note: I bet that Gorilla Tape would be an excellent way to hold one of those overachieving Elf moms in my basement and make her do all the Elf work until Poof hightails it back to Santa this year.

Back to Creative Elfing. A lot of the things on those lists look like nothing more than creating a mess for me to clean up. WTF? Who needs that??? Let me put this into perspective for you. Here is my day BEFORE 7am: up at 5am, get myself ready, pack two lunches and snacks (don't forget the toaster strudel and sweet tea for Hubby's breakfast), feed the cat and dog, let the chickens out and feed and water them, advance the dishwasher to whatever stage it needs to go to next, take out the trash, get the child ready, take him to school, and then head into work. Does it sound like I have time to deal with a Christmas tree that some heathen tp'd? Or wipe up flour snow angels?  Um, yeah, not so much.

And Elfing is only the beginning. I have to get the tree done, the indoor and outdoor decorations put up, take the kiddo to see Santa, write and mail a letter to Santa (even though we already saw him in person, grrr), contribute something to the school Christmas party, make some reindeer food that won't kill any animals that try to eat it, buy and wrap gifts, and probably a few other things I am forgetting. I draw the line at baking. I don't like sweets and I don't much like baking. (Mom, if you want to fly out like last year, I will gladly watch YOU make Christmas cookies, lol.)

Side note: If you want some Christmas mac and cheese, though, I am open to making an effort for that. Or Christmas beef stroganoff. Or Christmas fettuccini alfredo. I think you get the drift. Can you tell I am still on that damn diet???

Wow, I am tired just from writing this post and already feeling a bit defeated about the month ahead. I think I know where Blake will find Poof tomorrow morning - next an empty box of wine and his passed out mother. Happy Holidays, folks!

Starvation is the New Black

I know that recently I bowed down to the reality of Spanx as my future. That truth has not changed. But I have gone back to my commitment to diet and lose some weight. I'm almost 36, so a little weight loss isn't going to cancel out the necessity of shape wear. So, alas, I sit here starving AND cruising the Spanx website.

Side note: Technical writer usually thinks of nothing but murder every day but now technical writer thinks of nothing but food all day.

I lost about 20 pounds a couple years ago. I was in the best shape I had been in in a long time at age 34. Then cancer happened and I decided to comfort eat my way through it. Oh, and the effing steroids they gave me didn't help. I had the cravings of 12 pregnant woman thanks to those meds. So, I gained all the weight back and maybe even a little extra. While I haven't been pigging out, I haven't been a slave to My Fitness Pal and I decided on Sunday that it was time to chain myself to that evil mistress again. I bought some Special K diet breakfast sandwiches and some Lean Cuisines and dragged them to work with me on Monday. I was elated to fill the freezer here at the office with a bunch of crap that will never sate my appetite. Yay? Winning?

I'm on day 3 of behaving. I've only thought of eating my own arm once or twice. I've only thought about stealing change from co-workers for Doritos from the vending machine about 7 times. I've only daydreamed about going nuts in the new Snarf's when it opens right next to work about 53 times.

Side note: I will totally go ape shit when Snarf's opens. Everyone deserves a cheat day (week?), right? Damn you, Snarf's for creating sandwiches so good that they taste like are made with crack and baby tears.

Do I miss food? Maybe... I may or may not have wept when I passed a McD's yesterday. I may think longingly of a Philly cheese steak from Bogey's. I may think about giving up all my TV shows to be able to eat anything I want without any caloric repercussions. I may want to shank the co-worker walking by with a real meal from the cafeteria.

Side note: Hey! Technical writer DOES still think of murder all day!

But I am determined. I did it once before and I can do it again. I will just pretend all food is a copy of the Chicago Manual of Style because we all know how I feel about that bitch. No one wants to eat all that proper grammar. My own form of aversion therapy!

And for those of you wondering... Yes, I know how many calories wine has. But I firmly believe that rehab is for quitters and I am already stabby enough, so don't touch my Pinot Noir for the safety of the human race. Besides, when you look at the pic below, you will see that my lunch is SO depressing that I deserve a treat at the end of the day and, in Brook's world, treats always come in the form of wine.

Side note: What asshole decides to commit to a diet the week before Thanksgiving? This one, apparently. *sigh*

My lunch:

 

Just for fun:

 

I Just Introduced Myself to My Phone

My Samsung Galaxy and I have been hanging out for almost 6 months now but, apparently, we never became properly acquainted before today. A few of us were standing around discussing the weather (snow and very cold) and this lead into a discussion about weather apps. I proudly displayed my Weather Kitty App where (for an extra $1.99) you can get Grumpy Cat to let you know that it's snowing.

Side note: Grumpy Cat is just as cranky about the snow as I am. Shocking.

So, then my phone became a topic of conversation because it's a Mini and I said I thought the battery sucked a little bit. I forgot to mention that I work next to IT and one of them is an avid smart phone junkie. He kept asking where all my apps were and I showed him. He said my phone was very Monk-like because I only have 4 apps on my home screen. Hey, phone clutter annoys me! I might have closets stuffed with junk to overflowing at home but my phone is clean as a whistle. And besides, what do I need besides Contacts, Text Messaging, Weather Kitty, and My Daily Horoscope on my home screen? I'm fine letting all the other apps I have (and don't use) hide.

Side note: My Daily Horoscope keeps promising me all this great stuff is going to happen and I am losing patience waiting for this to be true. I wonder if there is a Grumpy Cat Horoscope App because you know HE would be honest. "You're a grown up, life sucks, get over it."

But the real mind-blowing thing happened when my co-worker told me about "Ok, Google". What it this piece of magic and how did I not know about it??? Now all those commercials with people saying "Ok, Google" are making SO much more sense! And I am no longer jealous of Siri (she seems kind of like a bitch any way, if you ask me). But first I had to introduce myself to my phone. THREE TIMES. Now it recognizes my voice! I feel so close to the little darling now. I just want to "Ok, Google" random shit all day. I can't believe I have wasted all this time using my fingers to look things up. I could have been doing so many more important things with them, like opening the wine spigot on my trusty box o' booze. If I just had just cozied up to my phone properly when we first met, I could have been way drunker these last 6 months. I just smacked myself on the forehead and said 'God, I'm an idiot", just like Dad taught me to do when I was three. Lesson learned. More wine will be had when I get home tonight and converse with my phone rather than actually touching it.

Side note: I am going to ask IT for more phone lessons. I hear it can give you directions to places and stuff. I think I have discovered a whole new world of technology and it has only taken me three years of being a smart phone owner! And here I thought I was all fancy using it to help me do math during Monopoly last night.

I'm all About Those Spanx, 'Bout Those Spanx, No Treble

No, I don't own a pair of Spanx. Yet... I decided on the way to work that I will ask for some for Christmas, though. I hear they liquefy your organs or something but, whatevs, because I am facing the truth. Even with diet and exercise (*snort* we all know those things are never happening for this gal), my age alone is beginning to require any and all help to look good.

Side note: Does the whole liquefy organs thing mean Spanx are voluntary Ebola??

There are certain outfits that look good on me but would be greatly enhanced by a cheat sheet to fix the, um, topography of my beloved body. Why not use the Cliff Notes version of the perfect curves - aka: Spanx?! The person who invented these things of genius was put here on this earth to make life easier for women who refuse to give up wine and carbs and wine and gluten and pizza and wine and, well, you get the drift.

So, on the days where I am not hiding my belly with a well-placed and stylish scarf, I am no longer sucking it in. I am letting Spanx suck it in for me.

Side note: Does this mean I am even lazier than we already thought I was??

Sure, I could "plank" for minutes every day. I could try a crunch or two. Or I could count every minute that I don't waste on that exercise bullshit and say that the time saved is $1 going into my "Saving Up for Spanx" piggy bank (pun intended).

Hello, Spanx! Welcome reality! Farewell, pipe dreams about Treble.

Side note: This was my breakfast this morning. Yes, you see carbs, bacon, egg, cheese, AND pesto. It's pretty much the only reason I got out of bed today.

Strung Out on Chamomile

Most people wake and caffeinate. I wake and sedate. My to go mug carries chamomile, not coffee. People find this odd and ask me why I am not half asleep. I look at them with scorn and say things like "Um, have you met me???" At this point, ingesting horse tranquilizers would be a drop in this bucket of stress and anxiety I have going on. So, no, my morning tea choice does not make me sleepy.

In addition to stress and anxiety, I am also feeling a bit stabby today. I mulled over the reasons as to why this is during my commute. I came up with the following possibilities:

1. My day literally started at 12am with Hubby cussing at me about my snoring. (Screw you, dude, you snore, too.) I went to the couch where I spent the next 5 hours listening to my dog smacking his lips. WTF? What was he doing and why did it never end??? Maddening!

2. PMS?

3. I am channeling my inner Dick Cheney (because, seriously, be you Democrat or Republican you have to admit that Dick Cheney is the embodiment of evil).

4. Chamomile tea is neither wine nor horse tranquilizers.

I'm sure my current stabbiness is a mix of all of the above. It's really in everyone's best interest that I start my day chamomile tea, so stop acting all weird about me drinking it at 6:30am.

My dear son chose today of all days to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I love him and I'm 99% sure that I will not run away to Mexico and "forget" to pick him up from school today but he was getting on my last nerve... He woke up whining about not getting picked to have breakfast with the principal (which just sounds like punishment to me) and there isn't even a breakfast with the principal scheduled today! That's like me whining about not winning the Wine Princess Contest when such a contest doesn't even exist!!

Side note: I would totally win a Wine Princess Contest.

Dear son could have at least chosen to whine about something that exists. Like the fact that I am never going to let him have his friend over for a play date because I am too lazy to clean the house. He really needs to think this shit through. He went on to mope for the entire ride to school (which is less than 10 minutes but felt like a millennium this morning). Woe is him and all he has are bad days. It was really hard to keep the words that I wanted to say in my head. Some examples are:

"Poor you. School must be so much harder than my soul-sucking career."

"Poor you. You get $22 MineCraft stuffed animals while Mommy is wearing clothes from 2003."

"Poor you. Is your shirt clean? It is. You want to know why? Because I do the same 6 loads of laundry every weekend and this wonderful chore will NEVER END."

"Poor you. Do you like using your tablet? I hope so because I pay the electric bill that charges that damn thing. And Xcel Energy is a real asshole company that triples my rates 4 months out of the year to 'encourage us to conserve energy during the hottest months of the year'. AND I'm still paying off said tablet but, no, you are the one who has it so rough."

Side note: Xcel Energy is right up there with Dick Cheney as the root of all evil but I won't get started on that now. That rant is a whole other Oprah.

Being the adult in this situation, I did keep all those words (and many more) in my head. Small victories? And now I'm off for another cup of chamomile. I fear for humans near me if I don't...

This isn't really a post...

But rather an ode to the one year anniversary of my last chemo treatment. This time last year I knew I would never have to sit in that chair and get hooked up to a bunch of poison again in two weeks. All 8 treatments were done! I had survived my worst nightmare. A lot has happened in that last year and every day keeps getting better and better. I pause often to be thankful for the place I am in now compared to the place I was last year. This picture was taken after I got home from my last treatment. I celebrated with champagne. This year I will celebrate by feeling well enough to take my son to Trunk or Treat (and also wine because, come on, like I even have to explain why).