Playing Picasa


I've never gotten into Photoshop because, knowing myself as I do, I realize that to do so would be to surrender every spare moment I have from now until the day I become proficient at manipulating anything and everything my twisted little heart desires. That would be probably decades from now. In the meantime, I'm giving my time away to Picasa.

What a wonderful little thing, this Picasa. I could spend days and days messing around with this thing. Wait - I already have. How come I didn't know about this until now?

This is the sad monster. With a little sharpening and my favorite effect (glow) this picture is really cute. Who knew? [photo lost when old host went bye-bye :( ]
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claw marks


I have no idea what I'm doing wrong, but my site is on restriction for some reason.
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My Saviour


Casserole!
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
This is Casserole. Isn't she cute??

She's the only reason I don't spend each and every day crying in misery, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I moved so far away from my family.
She's the reason I can laugh and have some semblance of a normal life here.
She laughs at me when I'm trying to make her laugh, which is gratifying.
She also laughs at me when I'm NOT trying to make her laugh, which is humbling.
She doesn't look at me with big, googly eyes or gasp in shock when I drop the f-bomb on occasion.
She hands me two Premysyn and a glass of water, hold the judgement, when I need it.
She does the best homemade chicken noodle soup ever. She cheats on the noodle part, but it's so good I'm willing to overlook it.
She tries to motivate me to move my fat ass in some way that will benefit my general health.
She's just as devious as I am, plus she could kick my ass with her little 5'2" self if she felt it was necessary. I'm scared of her in that way, and I wouldn't say that about much of anyone else I know - except for maybe Shell.
She takes care of my most treasured posessions on a daily basis, and loves them almost as much as I do, I think.

She's my fiend, and I love her. In a completely non-lesbian way, of course. All that lesbo stuff is totally reserved for my Shell.
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Party Animals

Saturday was Kierstin's Birthday party at the Build-A-Bear Workshop.

If I'd had any idea what I was getting myself into, I'd have convinced her that she wanted to have a sleepover at home. It would have been way less nerve-wracking, I'm sure.

The place was crowede to begin with, then add a line of 11 girls of assorted ages marching through the store shouting "Chose Me!" and you've got yourself a party. My favorite moment was when said line marched around yelling "Stuff Me!" repeatedly.

Aside from the clogged stuffing blower thingy, it went off without issues, though. Everyone had fun, and the monster raked in a fat load of loot. She got enough beads to make a necklace and bracelet for every girl in her first-grade class. When we got home, she lined up her haul in a very orderly fashion, across the length of her bedroom, and sat and admired it all for a moment before beginning the onslaught. Right now there are barbie boxes and bead strings and assorted packaging strewn about her bedroom. It's a disaster area.
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au naturale


au naturale
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
I love this picture, because it's a perfect representation of my two young ladies and who they are.

Madison: the slightly moody, emotional, pre-pre-teenager who is pretty sure she's going to make her living as a supermodel. She's definitely going to be a 6-footer; she's athletic and, in my humble opinion, beautiful.

Kierstin: the freakshow sister. Crazy, unpredictable, always making a face of some sort in pictures. An unending source of amusement to me and everyone else she knows.

These are the poses they struck when I told them to "show off your new haircut". Enough said?
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Seven years of...



Pain in my butt. Seriously.

But she's living proof that:
One can be totally in love with pain in the backside.
Smiling is therapeutic.
Redheads have a temper.
Chemotherapy does not necessarily equal sterility.

I love you, Miss Roo. Happy Birthday.
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The Faux Party


Shell and Avery
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
Rochelle Nicole. (Yes, I know you hate that name, but it's yours.) She was there for the birth, and all birthdays thereafter. But not this year.

We've moved to Seattle - a crime that will never be forgiven - and she can't be here for Kierstin's birthday for the first time in 7 years. Kierstin is most likely not aware of this fact, but Shell is. And I think it just might break her heart all over again.

Last weekend we went to Teddy Crafters and I took pictures of the teddy-making process. After Kierstin's party I'm going to give her the elephant and the pictures of her being made, in an attempt to make her cry.
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This is me, bemused and shaking my head...


So... late as usual, I'm going to use my own space to comment on Dooce's comments section, which is now closed.

Referring to this entry, and the comments thereafter, here's my .02 cents:

Appalled says: (way down near the bottom, where people got nuts and freaked the fuck out)

If you were upset and could not speak to communicate your needs, and you were crying in the middle of the night, how would you feel if your spouse walked by your room and ignored your cries? You would continue to cry until you came to the realization that the person who means more to you than anyone else in the world was not going to help you. Then you would stop crying. You would stop crying not because your needs have changed or gone away; no, you stop crying because you feel defeated. It is no different for your child.



Deb says:
What the fuck kind of nonsense are you spewing? First off, infants lack the congitive reasoning skills to be offended and despair over such an incident. It's that simple. Second, to read your comments is to believe that Heather and Jon left Leta alone in the house crying while they went to dinner and a movie, or that they just ignored her and put earplugs in so they could sleep. Anyone fool enough to beleive either of those things shouldn't be allowed to be a parent themselves. Third, to think that teaching your child to sleep through the night is in any way detrimental to their long-term mental health is to be the kind of crazy that nets you a child who grows up to stab you to death during your sleep. Not because you left them crying in their crib when they were an infant, which I'm sure you'd argue a futile case for, but really because you're the kind of parent who indulges every whim of your child, thinking that you'll be endeared to them for eternity because of your loving ways.

Here's the deal: Children of all ages need routine and structure. Parents who grasp that concept and begin applying it early are more successful in the long run.

Heather and Jon never left the house, never stopped being upset by the hard reality of their choice, and I applaud them while standing up. The first time I tried this technique with my oldest daugher, I lasted exactly 15 minutes. I couldn't handle it. Fortunately, we tried again, and were successful. I now have a nearly 10 year old daughter who sleeps over 9 hours each night, and sometimes more, as well as a 7 year old who does the same.

Parenting is a hard job, one that I don't do very well sometimes. Fortunately, I am fully capable of learning from my mistakes, and rarely make the same ones twice. It is my strong belief that letting my children cry it out when they were infants was not, in fact, a mistake of any kind. They are both well-adjusted and happy, and neither one of them has ever asked me why I abandoned them in their 6-month-old hour of need. I've also never caught either of them drooling at my bedside with a cleaver, contemplating just how many whacks to the head it would take to remove me, the infant neglecting abuser, from their miserable lives.

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45 - and no, that's not my age


I took the Dr. Phil quiz. Here's the deal:

Your Score was: 45

According to Dr. Phil:
Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.

Right. Whatever.
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Four Things


I blame Heather - though I think I might be cheating because she didn't tag me. Nobody reads my blog, so it doesn't matter.

Four Jobs I've Had:
Massage Therapist
Grocery Bagger
Video Store Manager
Ice Cream Scooper

Four movies I can watch over and over:
Victor/Victoria
Empire Records
Pretty Woman
For Love of the Game

Four places I've lived:
Lincoln, CA
Roseville, CA
Huntington Beach, CA
Lynnwood, WA

Four TV shows I love:
House
My Name Is Earl
The Waltons
Monday Night Football

Four places I've vacationed:
Las Vegas, NV
Seattle, WA
Enterprise, UT
Montreal, Canada

Four of my favorite dishes:
Reuben Sandwich
Chicken Divan
Prime Rib
Macaroni & Cheese (my homemade stuff)

Four sites I visit daily:
Dooce
Go Fug Yourself
Homocon
Miriam-Webster

Four places I would rather be right now:
at home
Italy
any Century theatre
the moon

Four bloggers I am tagging*:
DJ Marcus (who doesn't blog that i'm aware of)
Nathan (who is currently in parts unknown, not blogging)
Scott (who is very funny in those podcasts, but doesn't know I exist)
Me (because I didn't really get tagged in the first place)

*One must have readership to tag someone - mine are just figurative.






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The Beast


The Beast
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
How about WT central, huh? That's right... here's how you do it:
1. Spend lots of dough on a big screen plasma-type television set.
2. Mount said television set above the fireplace mantle.
3. Leave the cords hanging down in front of the fireplace.

Looks classy, right?? Hey... we're set for the SuperBowl on Sunday. Go Hawks!

OK, so I'm not the most organized person on the planet. Whatever.

My house is still in a state of disarray. The bulk of the furniture has been purchased, but only the living room chairs have arrived so far. The living room couch had to be ordered, as did the bed and the kitchen table and chairs. I'm not very patient either, and I'm getting more than a little tired of waiting.

We have thus far been unable to agree on what's going on in the bonus room upstairs, so we still need a couch-type apparatus for that room.

For the record: If anyone tells you (like my husband did) that the HDMI cord doesn't make a difference, and that you won't be able to tell the difference between that and the Red/Green/Blue component cord, tell them they're full of shit.
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476 reasons to NEVER buy a house or try to move a week before Christmas.


House 11_23 017
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
If it weren't for the whole "camping out like white trash" aspect of things as they stand today, I'd probably be REALLY excited about having a brand new house. I've never had a brand new house before. You'd think I'd be over the moon with excitement. You'd think.

In retrospect, attempting to close escrow on December 16th wasn't the brightest of ideas. Of course, if we'd actually closed on the 16th then we would have had all kinds of help moving on the 17th and things would be way more put-together than they are now. And we would have had all kinds of time on the 18th to put things away in their new places, and get situated. And we would have had a little time on the 19th to relax and enjoy our new home. But no.

We actually closed on the 20th. It's been raining ever since. It gets dark here at about 4:30. Moving sucks.
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