Anger Management

It may be the fact that I have a baby now... and it might be just one more thing that I can blame on my raging hormones... but I find myself, on a very regular basis, wanting to kill my dog. Like, MURDER-him-with-my-bare-hands kill him. Maybe this makes me a horrible person. It just never fails that the barking and the loud, growl-inducing-humping happen right when Evie has gone to sleep. RIGHT when I was GOING to take a nap. And, God, there are only so many times that you can pick poop up off of the floor with a smile on your face after you had just let him out for the sole purpose of deficating IN THE YARD!

But I haven't killed him yet. When the rage threatens to overtake me I look back at this picture: taken a couple of days after I brought Bearsy home (completely against my husband's wishes)...that was exactly three years ago. Life has a way of moving much too quickly, but still passing very slow. The first person to be able to explain this phenomena will, no doubt, win a Nobel Peace Prize.


But this picture, it does the trick. It has saved Bear's life on a number of occasions.

Mission: Sanitization

I have a problem that I feel ready to admit to. Ready; and willing to seek out the appropriate avenues of help if necessary.

I probably go through an entire family-sized container of these babies a week... Seriously. The way I scrub my kitchen on a nightly basis you would think that I was taking precautions against an army of Turd People whose only mode of transportation was to roll around on my counter-tops. And you know what? I'm not sorry. Granted, I may be singing a different tune on the day that I wake up to the first four layers of my epidermis PEELING off... but for now you'll get no apologies from me.

Donations to the ScobeyLysolWipe Fund can be made directly to me. Do your part, people. Do. Your. Part.

DOUBT

Doubt is a very powerful thing. It can be good: I firmly believe that no harm can come from a willingness to question things. On the contrary; one of the greatest dangers in life is just going along; refusing to let yourself challenge what you know.

But doubt can also be harmful. Especially when you make a habit of doubting yourself.

I have always been a glass-half-empty kind of person. Whenever I do things that are difficult, there are these voices in my head whispering: "you're not good enough", "you cannot possibly go that far -- do that much"...

Since Evie, that's changed. I mean, since Evie everything has changed: but THIS, this I never thought would change. I have been battling self doubt my whole life. There is only one possible explanation for this. Evie is my Horcrux. When I had her, my soul split... and now there is nothing I cannot do.

Something more powerful than doubt: being a mother.

And the leaves are changing which means that I get to drive to school through fiery tunnels and it is beautiful and all is right in the world.

Here is little Miss playing airplane on Mommy's legs during a picnic on Friday.

I know what you are all thinking: "That is not Evie. That is GRAHAM. It has to be Graham." and although I have this very same thought at least seventeen times in any given day: no, it is not Graham, it is my baby daughter. I know this because Graham is much too big to play airplane on my legs.

Pending Further Investigation

Graham and I have decided to re-sub our World of Warcraft account (I'll pause to allow those of you who didn't know I play WOW to regain your composure.... are you done laughing at me? Ok... I'll continue). When we lived in California we played WOW every Wednesday night with a group of friends from all over. Seeeeeeee, it's social, and therefore completely acceptable.

So I am typing in my user name and password to recover my account info and it's all "invalid information" and I'm all "noooo it isn't, idiot computer". And it went on like this for some time until I decided to call the service help-line (mostly because, since I tried logging on so many times with "invalid information" it locked me out of the site. Computer, 1. Me, 0.)

Then, forty-five minutes later: FORTY-FIVE MINUTES, PEOPLE... this just proves how many people play MMO's. Seeeeeeee, it's pervasive, and therefore completely acceptable. Forty-five minutes later a woman is explaining to me that my account has been hacked in to and, pending further investigation, may or may not be reopened.

All of this to say that, for the first time in my life, I am a part of an INVESTIGATION. It's like a murder mystery... only ONLINE. There has been a scandal in Outland, folks... someone has killed my Druid. YOUR CHILDREN ARE NOT SAFE!

Long Overdue

In August we went to Atlanta and, besides the part where I had to milk myself, it was an awesome trip. Evie got to meet all of the amazing Southern Folks who love her so very much. And suffice it to say that there are a LOT of them. So we did what any good Georgian Family (albeit a transplanted one) would do: ate a lot of food and traveled around handing out free hugs everywhere we went.

I'm just gonna say it: Southerners do it better. And I don't just mean cooking, decorating, and partying. I mean they are better at being humans. (Oh, wait, what's that sound I just heard? The tapping noise of my non-southern readers clicking UN-FOLLOW). But really, once you dip below the Mason Dixon Line it's hard not to compare everywhere else you go to That Place where the people are just soooo naice (that's "nice" in Georgia-speak)... and I'm not gonna lie: there is a piece of me that dies every time I think about the little, twangy accent that Evie could have had.

And the love. Ohhhh the looooove. There were people who we saw on this visit who have loved us our entire lives, so to see them snuggling on Evie just made my heart look like a scene straight out of Disney's Fantasia.

Three cheers for Grandpa. Hip-Hip, Horray!

Snuggling with the Meemers...who drove all the way from Mississippi to hold Ms. Evie.

And the man who has, on more than one occasion, been single-handedly responsible for helping me maintain my sanity.

And the man who has, on more than one occasion, been single-handedly responsible for keeping Graham's mother from murdering him.

As you can see, the trip was a success...and we cannot wait to take Evie back to the ATL in November so that she can meet her new cousin, Sophi.

I will leave you with some sweet, sweet second cousin love.

**PHOTOS TAKEN BY THE UBER-TALENTED GRAHAM SCOBEY, DUH**

This is What Happens...

...when you throw a string of spaghetti on the ceiling to check if it is cooked...

and then you look up SIX HOURS LATER and realize that you forgot to get it down...

Five Years

I'm just checking my e-mail... like any other day when, imagine my surprise (slash dread slash disbelief) when I find an invitation to my 5 (really it's more like 6, but who's counting) year High School reunion.

Seriously?! Weird. Super freakin' weird with strange sauce on top and a cherry, too.

Now, I didn't hate high-school. There were parts I loved and parts that I didn't love... but I was definitely not one of those people who loathed every day of the four-year-experience. "So what's the issue?" you ask? The issue is that i am SO not the same person who I was five years ago. Not even close. If I was North America she would be Nepal. And if I passed that over-made-up, under-secure girl on the street, she would not even recognize me. And I'm glad. I wouldn't like her, anyways.

So why go back? Why even think about going back? Aren't we alllll about moving forward here? But then I am hit HEAD ON by the mack truck of curiosity...

We meet again, GACS class of 2004...

I am the one smack dab in the middle with an orange shirt on. Wareagle!