The new guys

cuddledup
Originally uploaded by Lucky Haskins.

I'm showing Mike how to use Flickr to post pictures to Blogger. That means you get to enjoy a photo of his two cats (I suppose "our" two cats now), and Rusty and Cider's new siblings. That's Lucky on the left and Edison on the right.

Pass the Pigs

This is a fun diversion...they say they can tell your personality by how you draw a pig.

Here's mine.

I drew it with a Wacom tablet, but you can use your computer mouse.

Have fun!

Repackaged

mothersday06
Originally uploaded by Lucky Haskins.

I was in charge of shopping for the Mother's Day gift, so I went to Bath & Body Works. I got Mike's mom a present, a prepackaged set of lotion and body wash in a cute basket. It's on the left. I also had to get a present for my mom, but couldn't use the prepackaged sets because they were too small - this would be a present from all of us kids, so it needed to be a little bigger.

I bought a bunch of lotions and things (and scored some freebies because of a sale they're having right now), got a country-style mini-wash tub from a discount store, and used some tissue paper and a stick-on bow to package up my mom's gift. I'm rather proud - I think it looks just as good as Mike's mom's present. I'm horrible at using wrapping paper, but I'm pretty good at making baskets of gifts.

Fringe Benefits of Sickness

Today I realized once again how many people I have to call when I'm sick. I call my boss at the staffing agency, my boss at the school district, my boss at the nursing home, and I email whoever I have meetings with that day. It's exhausting. A surprising amount of work when you're sick.

The reason I'm sick is because I ate at this dirty little Taco Bell last night. I shouldn't have done that. I should have known that after a few days of eating super-light diet food, a dinner of greasier-than-normal chalupas and Pepsi wouldn't sit well. I should have known, but didn't. So I spent a good chunk of last night throwing up. I almost went in to work today since what I have isn't contagious, but then a rumble deep in my stomach told me that the fun wasn't over yet, so I elected to stay home.

There is one amazingly comforting fact about staying home, though...I get to spend an entire day doing what my body wants me to do.

In my last entry I wrote about how old I feel, and I think part of that is because I spend most of my day telling my body to do things that it doesn't want to do.

Yeah, I know you want to sleep, but it's 5:30 and that means time to wake up.

I know you have to go to the bathroom, but we have two more sessions of therapy before lunch, so you'll just have to wait.

I know you're craving fruit, but all we have is this vending machine, so Skittles will have to do.

It sucks after awhile. At my last doctor visit she informed me that I'd have to start drinking a lot more water, but instead of paying attention to the health benefits she was outlining (one of which was the fact that I'd stop fainting so much) I kept saying things like, "You want me to drink how much? I'll be going to the bathroom how often? I don't have time for that! I'm busy!"

Not so when I'm sick. When I'm sick I eat what I want when I want it, drink what I want when I want it, sleep when I need it, and can sit in the bathroom all day if I please. In a way, it's nice.

Too bad it comes with so much vomiting.

Ah well. This can't last long. I'm sure I'll be back to abusing my body tomorrow.

Old

Today I got a call from Ashley, one of my bridesmaids. She's still looking for a dress and was wondering if I'd like to go shopping with her and then see a movie on Thursday night.

Oh, how very old I felt when I told her that the movie would be past my bedtime.

Unfortunately I go to bed around 9 PM every night. Around 8:30 I go upstairs, start brushing my teeth and setting out my clothes, and otherwise get ready for the next day. Right now it's still light out at 8:30. This does not help my feelings of increasing age. In my defense I do get up every weekday at 5:15 or 5:30, but still...at the age of 26 I should not be telling friends that anything later than a matinee is not feasible.

I explained to Ashley about my commute to Illinois, and how the drive from school to the mall and from the theater home would make the night even later, but still...I hope she didn't think I was blowing her off.

Man.

How did I get so old so quickly?

Money and Bubblegum

You know who has the best ice cream in Milwaukee? The Baskin Robbins at the Mitchell International Airport. I say this because they're one of the only places I've found that has my favorite flavor of ice cream, which is blue bubble gum flavor with bits of bubble gum mixed in.

For the past two weekends I've wanted Mike to go with me to the airport so I can get ice cream and go to the newsstand. He's been hesitant. Last night he pointed out that any Baskin Robbins would probably have that ice cream, and there was probably one closer to his apartment than the airport. I think he was playing it off, though...I think he's shy about going to the airport when he doesn't have a flight. I don't think it would be a big deal - after all, if they let homeless people hang around train stations, why wouldn't they let paying customers like us get ice cream at the airport? But last night I consented to go to the Baskin Robbins in Fox Point as a compromise.

Now, I'm still fairly unfamiliar with Milwaukee and had no idea what type of neighborhood Fox Point was. It turns out, it's a wealthy neighborhood. Now, I know that the wealthy have done nothing to me personally so I really shouldn't dislike them, but I do. I can't help it. I've never been comfortable around people with tons of money. As we stood in the ice cream parlor, the tattered cuffs on my jeans and the green grass stains on Mike's pants seemed as huge and glaring a faux pas as getting drunk at Christmas dinner. The other customers were dressed pretty sloppily too, but somehow they managed to convey that it was dirt that resulted from doing something expensive, like launching the yacht or having a rousing ride on a polo pony. I'm not sure how they manage that, or how they manage to make me feel so inferior.

Since the seating was all taken up Mike and I ate our ice cream in my car. We watched the BMWs and shiny SUVs come in and out of the adjacent gas station, and I thought about how even though they had bubble gum flavored ice cream, it was pink and not blue, and somehow that made it taste different.

After that we took the freeway back to the apartment that Mike and I will soon share. The lawn was freshly cut by Mike, not by a landscaper, and the refrigerator had some week-old bagels that I'd bought at Jewel. That night we sat at the kitchen table, Mike working on a clay project and me painting a bird feeder. I like the lives we lead. We don't have a lot of money, but we have jobs and cats, generic-brand food, airports, blue ice cream, and each other. It's not such a bad way to live.