Possible New Careers for Me

I'm looking for a new job. Something less stressful than being a Stay-at-home-Mom (SAHM.)  See, being a SAHM requires me to work between 18 and 23 hours a day, eat cold meals, and drink so much coffee that I am not only jittery but usually constipated for days at a time, unless I accidentally take my cholesterol medicine twice in the same day and then....LAWD!  Don't block the path to the bathroom.

I want a new job with benefits.  Health insurance, you ask?  Pish-posh.  I want  the benefits like the right to a daily shower with hot water, whether I need one or not.  I want to be able to sleep a full 6 hours at night without being awakened 20 minutes before the alarm clock goes off to be asked, "What time is it?"  I want to be able to have a "lunch break" where I can actually get more than one forkful of food into my mouth before someone else asks me to serve them seconds.  I want it all.

I'm thinking that a career in firefighting might be a good choice for me.  I got tons of training in how to get people someplace safely in record speeds by being told 12 minutes before soccer practice starts that I was unknowingly volunteered to drive the carpool.  I'm also pretty good with bandaids and antiseptic, so maybe I could train to be an EMT.  I break up fist fights between teenage boys at least three times a day.  Perhaps an official on a nuclear disarmament team?  Peace talks?  Referee for a football club in Liverpool?  Or maybe rodeo clown...but clowns creep me out.

Leave a suggestion in the comments section.
Oh, and check out my friend, Nuala Reilly's webpage for great reading material at this LINK.  She's awesome.

Why My Husband Refuses to Buy Me a Taser

As per my mother's request, here is a post from a few years back:

I've been asking my husband for about 2 years to buy me a Taser...but he won't. He just shakes his head and laughs everytime I try to explain my latest reasons for having one. He says I'm too "reactionary" and "hot-headed" to own one. Humph! Says HIM.

I promised him that I wouldn't shock the big-butted woman in front of me on the bread lines at the bakery and that I wouldn't shock the kids' new principal at the school EVEN if she "has it coming to her." I promised that I would NEVER use it on his siblings or his children and that I'd wait until AFTER his brother's wife has her baby before I used on HER irritating ass. He actually considered this for a brief moment and then shook his head and said that even if he wanted to buy me one they don't sell them in Egypt. I, being the ever problem-solving genius that I am, suggested that he just pick one up for me in Greece or in the US next time he goes on a business trip. He thought that he could out-maneuver me with the ole' "it won't get past customs" trick. But I was one step ahead of him as usual, and I retaliated with the ole' "but they come in leopard print carrying case AND have headphones with 1GB MP3 players now!" Surely he couldn't step past THIS intellectual landmine. But DAMMITMAN! He's been watching me and listening to me sidestep HIS issues with such grace and finesse for so many years that now the grasshopper has become the master....and he blew me away with this: "You are so accident prone that you'd probably plug the headphones into the wrong part and zap your own ears off! And even if that didn't happen, I'd have to leave a power-of-attorney with my lawyer every time I left the country so that someone would be able to bail you out of jail the two or three times a day that you get upset or impatient with someone and try to fry them."
I stopped and thought about it and sulked. I knew he was right. If you think he's wrong, I'll have to ask you to go through my blog archives to see my ramblings on why it is a good thing I don't choose who lives and dies on this planet as I'd be awfully lonely.

Not Enough Hours in the Day...and Now I Know Why

It wasn't until today that I ever thought of myself as an overachiever. Maybe on some levels, I've known.  But I don't think I've ever caught a glimpse of how others see me. I'm a Facebooker. (Yeah, who isn't?) I've blogged before about how great this social network is because as a military brat, it is extremely difficult to keep in touch with friends from childhood when sometimes you can't remember what year you lived where.  Anyway, so I have subscribed to several military brat-related pages and caught up with some old friends and made some new ones.

One particular page is full of "regulars" who post daily what they've done and what they're planning to eat and other stuff that usually ends up with all of us nearly "chatting" via bulletin board-type posts.  Today I actually typed up my little laundry list of stuff I did today before 1130 hrs (that's 11:30 a.m. for you civilian types) and I think I managed to exhaust at least 3 people who typed that they were off to take a nap due to my activity.

Honestly, while I am my own biggest fan and LOVE to toot my own horn, I wasn't bragging.  In my own opinion, I managed to waste the day away with ONLY the stuff I got done, while ignoring the ginormous "to-do" list looming over my head.  I took a nap from being so damn tired. I don't get much sleep at night. As much as I blame my kids (who are TOTALLY at fault for about half of my exhaustion), ultimately it's my own damn fault.  If I wasn't such a control freak who pushes herself to complete every single thing on her never-ending list of stuff to do, I WOULD get more sleep at night, I would probably be healthier and I would have less stress in my life.  Of course, if I did that, then I wouldn't be the neurotic, selectively-OCD crazed nut-job that my family and friends have come to know and love.

I'm getting a little better. I quit wiping off the stove and now delegate that responsibility to whichever little smart-mouth gets in trouble during the day.  One step at a time...

Hopelessness

She was a freshman when I was a senior. I knew who she was. I said hi to her when I saw her in the hallways at school. Her brothers and I were all friends. They lived on the court behind ours. Years go by and I read on the internet that she and her young daughter had died. I sent my condolences to the family. I didn't know how and something inside me kept me from asking about the circumstances. Today I read an article online that detailed the incident and I felt sick to my stomach. She was shot by police after refusing to put down a knife that she was using to repeatedly stab her four year old daughter. Now at first, I thought, "Oh my God! How could she?" but then I read on. She had been suffering from emotional and financial distress, probably not in that order. She'd lost her job and hadn't been able to afford to pay her rent for 5 months or more. The water had been shut off for failure to pay the bill. Apparently the state had been threatening to take her children. No one knows what they will do in such a situation. I mean, it's easy to say, "I know I would never" but how do you know? I would HOPE that I would never feel such hopelessness and fear as to take the lives of my children. I have to hope that my belief that God controls all would get me through.

I have been in some seriously dire situations financially. I lost a house to foreclosure. I had wages garnished for 6 weeks once (not just some...the entire 6 weeks of pay...$zero income.) And were it not for WIC and the kindness of friends and our ability to eat canned beans and bread, we may not have made it. And it was hard, but we did it. A lot of you know that we returned to Texas from Egypt last year to make a go of it there. After four months, I packed the kids back up and came back to Egypt. We just couldn't do it. We applied for food stamps and I was training to go back to work as an interpreter. My husband was working and applying all over the city for more work. But no one was hiring (except illegals) and we didn't have enough money to pay rent. When we finally decided that I was going to move with the children back to Egypt, my mom and sister and various extended relatives all had their opinions and emotions over the issue. But you see, none of those who were angry had been in a desperate place or lost a  home or had stared the inability to feed their kids in the face before. And we listened and tried to explain but they didn't "get it." And we left anyway, with a lot of hurt and angry people in our wake. Some blamed me. Most blamed my husband and assumed that he "sent me away." (Anyone who truly knows me, KNOWS that I am rarely forced to do anything against my will.) Whatever their opinions we had to do what was right for us and our situation. No regrets.

I look at the situation of my former school mate and I wonder what she would have done if she'd had the option we did. If she was able to take "the out" that we were, would she be alive today. God knows. I do know that through my grief for her surviving child and brothers that I again see a lesson reiterated. Judge not that you be not judged. We cannot judge her actions. God knows her heart and the desperate place that she was in. I pray God forgive her her sins and grant her His mercy. 

Customer Service ... Another OXYMORON

"Customer Service" is a catch-all phrase coined by salespeople and middle management in Corporate America to make customers think that their patronage is actually valued. It really isn't. Now the salespeople will schmooze you and suck up to you long enough to get access to your money and then they never want to hear from you again. I used to think that Customer Service meant something....maybe it actually did. It did when I worked at the customer service desk at Sears Surplus in Laurel, MD. I was such a good customer service rep that I even ran around from behind my counter to hold the door open for a customer carrying out an air conditioner. It took a few seconds before I realized I'd helped him out the "in door" and called security who promptly tackled the shoplifter rendering him unconscious and the air conditioner destroyed. But being the good customer service rep, I promptly slapped a RECONDITIONED/REFURBISHED sticker down the side of it after super-gluing the knobs back on it and discounted it by $10.

Today I've been running nuts with "customer service" issues. At least in the US there's someone with a Stepford Wife-like honey sweet voice to calmly blow smoke up your ass when it comes to "challenges or issues" you have with whatever product that you're dissatisfied with. I mean, eventually you're going to get a refund or an exchange or an apology or a coupon or even just a "customer service survey" where you can say "Your company sucks ass!" and feel better about the whole situation.

Here in Egypt, the customer is always WRONG. No matter what. The school administration secretary misplaced my child's permanent records? It's my fault and I have to replace all SEVEN YEARS of paperwork....myself.....at my expense. A taxi driver plows into my son while we're walking on the side of the street....it's HIS fault for not walking on top of the parked cars on the sidewalk. The ultra-pasteurized milk with a shelf life of 3 months that I purchased 2 months before the expiration date is spoiled and comes out like cheese on the DAY I purchased it......I must have stored it wrong....in the bag that the store owner put it in while I carried it up to my apartment ONE BLOCK AWAY and immediately opened. ???? Those three letters W.T.F. keep popping up in my head today. But these are things that I've come to expect in Egypt. With the exception of ONE place:  the American Embassy in Cairo.

I've had NOTHING but good experiences with the American Embassy in Cairo over the last ten years. (With the exception of the FBI agent in charge there calling me and asking me to drive to Cairo so that he could grill me about my possible involvement in the September 11, 2001 incidents. Asshole. My family and I were inconvenienced as hell that day. Granted, we didn't die or anything but we were supposed to fly out to Greece that day (a permanent move) and we became homeless immediately with all the airports closing and hotels filling up, etc.....and with 5 kids under the age of 7 at that time....the odds of me being involved were slim and none and I know for a fact that it was racial/religious profiling that got them to call me in the first place because you know Arab/Muslim last name MUST mean terrorist. Needless to say, I told him I'd be more than happy to meet with them in my mother-in-law's living room and he could feel free to drive up at anytime but I will NOT repeat NOT go to Cairo. Ahem.....I digress.)

Anyway, so I've been trying for weeks to get an appointment with the Consul when he comes to Alexandria because driving to Cairo (3 hours away) with 5 kids is a bloody nightmare. And of course, their appointment making website (acuity.com) is jacked up for the last 2 weeks and all the appointments are now full for December. So I try for the end of January. And it works fine until you reach the "confirm your appointment by clicking FINISH" step....and then you get the HTTP 500 error.....that means INTERNAL server error for those of you are not in the know. I contacted the embassy via email. They said, as though my clicking abilities are faulty or something, "Sorry for the inconvenience, many other US citizens managed to schedule their appointments.  Please try again."   My response of course is, "WTF?"


I emailed them again and explained what HTTP 500 is. They said the same thing....try again later. So I called the American Cultural Center here in Alexandria and asked if there was something I could do here. She said no that it was via the embassy. I called the embassy, wasting 2.50 pounds hearing that I should call back between 1pm and 3pm. I explained that I really only want to make an appointment but the link is down. She transferred me to a guy who transferred me to another guy's voice mail.....who, as it turns out, doesn't subscribe to voice mail and I was disconnected. "WTF? ...... G.D.S.O.B. M.F. piss ant!
So I fired off another email, taking care to correct the MR. to MRS. which only told me that it's a foreign national worker that I am dealing with and not an American employee. Americans know that the name NIKKI spelled like that is a GIRLS name.  After several email exchanges, I think it got passed to an American employee because the acuity.com link went off line completely and I got actual timely responses asking me what I wanted and they've tentatively scheduled me for the appointment on the day and time that I want but I have to follow up with them later for confirmation. Yay.


But still--- acuity.com is on my shit-list, the gas tank salesman who overcharged me by 15 pounds for a desperately needed gas tank has been handed over to God for revenge, and the guy who sold me rotten milk has permanently lost a customer. No. I'm NOT happy with my long distance company and Customer Service is an oxymoron.

Becca's Right...I Have Stress-Induced Gas

So a while back I was experiencing chest pains so strong that I couldn't breathe. I blogged about it a few times here.  Then I spent hundreds (thankfully, not thousands) of pounds paying for tests and cardiograms and ekgs and yada, yada, yada. At the end of the month of two hour bus rides across the city to the International Cardiac Center, my heart had been declared 100% healthy and I was prescribed fat-blockers for my high cholesterol. Really? So why is my chest still hurting like a MOFO?!

I talked it over with my phlebotomist and she said that I should do the bloodwork to eliminate thyroid issues that my cousin, Heather, suggested may be causing it. I'm probably going to do that today. My good friend, Becca, thinks it's just gas. (She knows my family FAR too well to be able to make such a diagnosis.) I wondered if it was a digestion issue and opted to try a vegetarian diet for about 6 weeks. I'd have been able to last longer if it weren't for the autistic kid who has to have only crunchy  food and the 10 year old who hates everything and then the husband and 3 kids who eat whatever I cook but really like meat and chicken and fish.....and that's like 4 different dinners to cook for each meal. So, I just gave up and went back to forcing all 7 of  us to eat the same thing. Yeah, I'm "lazy" like that. (And so over it.)

So now that I'm cholesterol meds, I'm regular........WAYYYYYY regular. (Please don't block the door to the bathroom when you see me running for it. It could prove messy for both of us.) The chest pains eased up for a while. And today came back with a vengeance. My husband and 13 yr old have been doing a weight-lifting program the last few weeks. And my husband's trainer mentioned that they should eat a lot more protein, including a lot of legumes. So we had lentils two nights ago. And yesterday I made Greek chicken in the oven with rice and a large pot of white beans and marinated cucumber and onion salad. While I only had one bowl of beans (for the sake of my family), my husband and sons tore up the pot. All.THREE. pounds. of. beans. Maybe they fart vicariously through me?!  Or it could be that I'm stressed out from the constant fighting between the teens. I'm going to find the Egyptian equivalent of Xanax and try that. And see if that helps at all. But ultimately I think that Becca is right. It's gas.

I'm Going to be Bald by 2012

I woke up feeling like someone had pounded the snot out of me with a Louisville Slugger this morning. I guess it's time to pull the blankets out of the closet. Or maybe just turn the ceiling fan off at night. But that hyperactive ovary has me doing the pre-menopausal night sweat dance. You know the one. Where you are hot as hell and feeling like your clothes are choking all the oxygen out of you even though you're only wearing a thin cotton nightshirt and going commando in case your husband decides to wake you up for a zesty session once the kids finally fall asleep. And then after about 10 minutes of comfortable sleep once you've kicked the covers off your sweaty body, the ceiling fan cools you off from comfortable to "damn, I feel like someone jammed an icicle through my spine" and then of course, you can't find the bedspread that you kicked across the room only moments earlier. And the mad vicious circle continues all night.

So after little to no real sleep, I awoke to a vicious headache and pretzel-like muscles. Then my kids started the  "he was supposed to be third today on the computer and I was supposed to be first"--"No, you're a butthole liar" routine not only before coffee...but before I'd had my morning pee. This was my first clue to Suckfest 2011. I asked the kids to please be merciful and quiet since I had all the signs of an oncoming migraine and they promised they would just before the youngest two decided to host an indoor soccer match in the boys' room. The two older boys engaged in mortal combat for the remainder of the day and well into the evening. (As a matter of fact, they only called a truce about 20  minutes ago when "Hancock" came on tv and sat down on opposite ends of the couch to watch it together.)

I was supposed to take Randa back to the dentist tonight. He tried like hell to get her broken molar out yesterday but he made a mistake and let her see the needle before I got her sunglasses with the electrical tape on the outside lenses on her. And she said, "Dentist is jackass! No way, Jose! Wanna go home!" and  proceeded to argue with him for the next half hour as he tried to coax her into opening her mouth. He started to come at her with the needle and she actually yelled, "No. No. I love you." at him. At which point all he could do was crack up laughing and ask me to try and bring her back tonight. I tried to prepare her all day for it. I poked her in the gums with my fingernail several times and said, "See? 2 small needles here and here and then the dentist will pull out your tooth." And she answered each time differently. "No way," turned into "Uhm, no thanks," and then "Maybe later, Dear," and then finally, "Okay." Then she went to sleep about 7:30pm. I went in to wake her at 8:15 so we could be at the dentists by 8:30. I asked her one more time, "Are you going to let the dentist give you a needle here and here and then pull out your broke tooth so it won't hurt anymore?" And she said, "No way, Jose! It's sleepy time."

Screw it. If she finally gets sick of it hurting, she'll let him do it. Or we'll wait until it comes loose and falls out on its own. Either way, I'm tired of pulling my hair out over it...and everything else.

Weird = Me

Okay, I knew this. Hell, YOU knew this. You've read my blogs, so I'm not letting any new cats out of bags here. But I'll let you in on a little weird secret about me: I.like.math.

And I don't mean balancing my checkbook or converting grams into ounces. I mean ratios and percentages and quadratic equations. Solving for 'x' makes me giggle. I love algebra and statistics. I have been out of high school for *cough*25 years*cough* and haven't taken a college course in math in almost as long. I actually miss it.

All around me, mothers are clutching their hearts and heads and fretting about where they're going to find the money to pay for private math tutors for their kids. They complain bout how difficult the maths are this year. Personally, I think that they're making much ado about nothing. I don't mean that in a conceited "I'm smarter than they are" kind of way. What I mean is that these women don't even TRY to sit down and read the book that their kid is learning from. And I'm not talking about college age kids....I mean third and fourth grade. I just smile and nod and they think I'm the stupid foreigner. They ask me who is tutoring my kids in math and think I'm irresponsible and doing my kids a huge disservice when I tell them that I am. Truth be told, I'm cheap. Not frugal. C-H-to the EAP, cheap. I refuse to pay someone else to do something that I can do myself. Also, I have that whole "love invested" thing going on with my kids so I think I have more to lose than money if my kid fails.

I've been told on many occasions by teachers and other mothers that I am cheating my kids by not hiring tutors or teachers to help them with their math. My question is this: Why do we as women "dumb ourselves down" when it comes to math? Why do we leave it to the men to do? Since when is having testicles a requirement to knowing that the cubed root of 64 is 4? Are we not the primary caregivers/shoppers and home economists within our own households? Don't we know which detergent is a better buy because it costs less per ounce with the added bonus of working so well that we don't need to buy bleach?

Encourage your daughters in the math and science fields, Ladies. All it can do is raise their self-confidence AND the glass ceiling that might hold them back in future jobs.

Autobiography of Omnivore Army Brat Turned Vegetarian In Progress

Over the last ten years I've been trying to write a book. I always intended for it to be somewhat autobiographical but not a completely actual story of my life kind of thing. I figured there must be someone out there in the world who would find a crazy American who turns Muslim vegetarian living the ex-pat life in Egypt raising 5 young kids mostly on her own and without the aid of alcohol to be kind of funny. But everything I tried to get on paper seemed to come out kind of stilted and robot-like. Maybe that was due to the name-changing and trying to protect the innocent (or guilty.) You know, where I sort of lost touch with the main character because she didn't seem like me anymore.

So a couple of days ago I sat down and screamed at all the kids to leave me alone. I was not "Mommy" anymore. Mommy left for a sabbatical and I was now to be called "Genevieve DuBois" and then told them all to go to bed. I typed my brains out. It didn't take long. Well, really, it didn't seem like it took long. I wrote for about four hours. And all of it's completely non-fiction. I just got motivated re-reading my post on MY HERITAGE and decided "Hey, my life has been REALLY interesting. Being an Army brat and having attended 15 schools in 12 years (yes, that is in fact true), I really might have something to offer the world in the world of literature. Well, maybe something to offer the world of paperback books kept in the basket of bathroom reading material, anyway." And so I wrote and wrote.

I've gotten about 13 pages done in a couple of nights. It's quite anecdotal and probably something that any military brat can relate to. (Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Get over it.) I'm hoping to pound out rest of it in the next few weeks before I start my usual practice of "Death by Editing."  As most artists are their own worst critics, I can make any draft bleed a horrible death of red ink editing and re-editing. But at least I'm writing again. And hopefully I'll actually publish this time around.

Red Tape and Traffic Jams

Buses, taxis, service cars, motorcycles, motorcycle-taxis, and horse-driven carts....

Noise, pollution, heat, dirt, impatience, not enough room on the sidewalks...

Sweaty, dirty, headache, hustling across the street trying not to get nailed by a mini-bus.

All worth it. I'm done with all the paperwork and running around. I managed to weave
my way in and out of, off and on and through all of the traffic, the government offices,
and all of the red tape. YAY. Ismail is now registered for school.

Chest Pains

Last year I started having some difficulty breathing deeply. I felt a
tightness across my back and I blew it off. I had been moving the
furniture around by myself while mopping the house so I just
assumed I'd overdone it and tried to take it easy for a couple of
days. But it didn't get better. In fact, it got worse. The dull and
achy pain in my back started moving up to my shoulder and down
my left arm and then down into my chest. Breathing got more
difficult. I decided to go to the doctor the next day. My body
objected.

About 4 in the morning, I woke up from shooting pains in my
back and chest and inability to breathe at all. I thought I was in
cardiac arrest. I took an aspirin. Then I dialed my husband's
cousins who came over immediately and took me straight to the
hospital. They did an EKG and said my heart was fine. Then we
reviewed all the foods I'd had in the last two or three days. A
little spicy but nothing like I usually eat. They asked about stress.
Oh boy. There's something I can avoid. Not.

So when the doctor prescribed me Zantac and a couple of other
anti-gas items, he also said that I was not allowed to eat anything
fried or spicy or pickled and NO TOMATO SAUCE! Augh.
His next words made me crack up laughing. He said that I should
not get angry or stressed and to relax as much as possible. "Dude.
I have FIVE kids and THREE are teenagers."

I followed his directions as much as possible. I ate the boring
boiled foods and didn't spice too much and laid off the peppers
and the tomato sauce that I love and pickled eggplants and chiles.
And things got better. I made it through exams week and a real
trying friendship and a year without my husband. And I soon fell
back into old habits. My husband started traveling again, the
spicy foods started being made more frequently and my boys
decided to beat the hell out of one another nightly from about 3
a.m. until 6:30a.m. for 23 days straight.

And now all the same symptoms are back only on the right side
of my body vice the left. Starting tomorrow I'll be back on my
boring boiled diet and I sent one of the boys out for Zantac a
couple of hours ago. At least I recognize the signs and I'm not
letting it get to the point I did last year before I did anything
about it. And if it gets ANY worse or doesn't subside in the
next 24 hours, I will go back to the hospital. But I know what'll
happen. I'll be in there and pass gas and embarrass the hell out
of myself and then pay for treatment that I could have done at
home by farting on the couch while watching "America's Got
Talent!"

A New Day

Amazing what a pep-chat on the internet with an old friend
and a good night's sleep can do for my outlook on life in a
house full of testosterone. I don't want to become the super
hero sci-fi killing machine that I wanted to become yesterday.

I just want to take an enormous handful of anti-anxiety
medication and smile and nod like a Stepford wife until
they all get married and move out of the house.

Problem solved.

Sci-Fi Super Hero Powers Wanted FAST

I want eyeballs equipped with laser beams. I want to be
able to cup my hands forward and have big, fat fire-balls
shoot out of my palms that blow stuff up. I want to just
squint in the direction of something or someone that's
just pissed me off to the nth degree and have their itty,
bitty, heads pop off and spin toward the sun. Or the moon,
if it's dark out.

I want to be able to make one of those tractor-beam
things like from Star Trek and suck my kids backwards
when they take off storming into another room because
they don't want to hear me. I also want to be able to
make one of those force fields like the chick from Fantas-
tic 4 only I want mine to be soundproof so I can block
all the damn whining, yelling, screaming, and tattling that
my kids do. Oh, and I want it so that I don't get a nose
bleed every time I use it....because, frankly, I'll get a
lot of mileage out of that one.

I'd like to have the ability to plant thoughts and ideas
into my kids heads, like Matt Parkman, the cop from
that show Heroes. That would be cool. I could do all
of my parenting without yelling and losing my voice.
That would be so awesome.

But you know what would be better? I wouldn't need
all these crazy sci-fi  powers if they would just stop
and see that I'm not asking the world from them when
I ask them to respect each other. I wouldn't have to
shout, "FAG is not a respectful word for your brother!"
I wouldn't have to remind for the 32nd time "Reading
your sister's diary is not only rude and invasive and
wrong. It is hurtful and it always going to be....no
matter HOW MANY times she writes that you're a
butthead in it!"

I'm trying my best to keep it together, but it's getting
mighty difficult. I hate my job sometimes. If I could
find something less stressful I'd be so out of here...
if I could just find where I could submit my resignation.
I hear nuclear disarmament is interesting and could
potentially lower my blood pressure. I imagine it's like
knitting, only without having the stress of "casting on."

But if anyone hears about a spot opening up in Super
Hero School for a middle-aged, slightly overweight
but still hot red-head who is beyond sick of kids,
drop me a line. Thanks.

Should I or Should I Not?

I'm considering a major change in my life. It's a big decision.
I'm not really sure I'm ready for it. But I'm weighing all the
odds and I'm leaning toward just jumping off into the unknown.
Yes. It's a serious and HUGE change for me. I have seen it
coming for a few years and some of my friends have been
pushing me to do it. I just wasn't sure I was strong enough
before. I think I am now. I can do this. And I can do it on my
own. (taking a deep breath.) I am seriously considering....

becoming a vegetarian. There. I said it in my outloud voice.
(What you thought I was going to get a divorce? Become a
Republican? Shaaaa. As if.)

I think that the health benefits would be huge. I'm about 50
pounds overweight and there is a history of heart disease,
several types of cancer, and diabetes in my family on both
sides. I think it would help me with my energy levels, sleep
issues and arthritis as well as other health reasons. (No. I'm
not about the animals, crap. I LOVE ME SOME ANIMAL
FLESH.) I think it's time I bring my weight, cholesterol, and
acid levels down.

I'm probably not going to start until after Ramadan is over.
I'm barely keeping up with getting food prepared in time
as it is without adding an additional entree for myself.
Please forward me any whole foods type veggie recipes as
I will be open to any suggestions. Here's to health.