azriona: (cat in a box)
Dear Andrew's Fever,

GO. AWAY.

No love,

Andrew's Mommy

*

Not that it's much of a fever - it's hovering between 98 and 99 (Andrew's usually in the 97s, so yeah, this is a low-grade fever for him). It's hit 100 twice since last night, and both times I dosed him with the ibuprofen, but it was a slow climb to get there so I'm not overly worried.

I actually had us on the way to school this morning, and we were even out of the apartment and almost gone - and I just couldn't do it. I was way too worried about what might happen if his temp started to climb and none of the teachers were checking and I bribed Andrew back inside with the promise of a movie and we spent the day watching TV. He also got all the juice he could drink. This decision was partially vindicated around noon when Andrew's temp did hit 100.2.

(Oddly enough, I've got a low-grade fever myself. Andrew was insistent that it was Mommy's turn with the thermometer, so I humored him. I don't feel the least bit sick or warm, so perhaps we have the same thing. Might be something to it - I was exhausted enough last night that I went to sleep at 8.30.)

Incidentally, I think I'm creating a tiny Anglophile. I let Andrew decide what he wanted to watch, and the morning line-up consisted of Timmy Time, Thomas the Tank Engine, and Wallace and Gromit, followed by the Veggie Tales version of Sherlock Holmes. (Veggie Tales is American, but Sherlock Holmes is not, so maybe that counts?)

Incidentally, the Sherlock Holmes edition of Veggie Tales is either hysterically awful or distressingly funny, and I can't decide which. The writers shoved in as many Holmesian references as they could in the first few minutes so they didn't have to repeat them later (the best being the name of the pub where Sherlock and Watson go: "Doylies", which is just funny on multiple levels), Watson was the clever one, Sherlock's deductions were ridiculous (but meant to be, I think - after all, he's a cucumber), and I mostly kept waiting for Mycroft to show up as Asparagus or something.

(On the whole, I liked Lyle the Kindly Viking much better, as far as Veggie Tales goes. Those songs seriously stick in your head for days.)

Grr, 3am

Feb. 25th, 2013 04:07 am
azriona: (cat in a box)
Dear Andrew,

Please stop waking up at 2am. I can't get back to sleep when you do that anymore, so I end up sitting up and not even being productive and writing, just goofing off on Tumblr. This is bad, son, because it means I'm zonked by the time you go to bed, or I end up subsisting on coffee, and I don't like coffee that much.

Love,

Momma


Other letters to objects that won't answer them )


In other news, I did a massive shop yesterday and bought INGREDIENTS. Which I realize is not such a big thing, I always buy ingredients, but I rarely buy them with specific meals in mind. (Usually I buy what looks yummy and figure out the details later; such is the privilege of having a well-stocked kitchen cabinet, and four veggie stalls under a quarter mile away.) But I've been doing massive research on menus for Mise, and I've gotten to the point in writing about them that I realized I actually ought to make this stuff at least once or twice.

(I'm also debating including recipes, or at least links to them, with the relevant chapters, and if I'm going to do that, I'd like to make sure the recipe is actually worth the inclusion. This is because I am a nerd, I think. I take my research seriously, especially when I get to eat the results, and one of the results is a Mexican chocolate souffle.)

(If I do decide to include recipes, particularly the ones I'm altering or creating from scratch, I might need testers. As in, you make it and tell me if they worked for you. I mean, you're welcome to come and taste-test what I cook, but there would be babysitting involved while I'm in the kitchen. Volunteers welcome.)

Anyhow, there is a chicken in the fridge. (I think I shall call him Harvey; I've decided that all chickens henceforth will be called Harvey or Zimmer because I never think of better/more original names, and all turkeys will probably be named George, not for any particular president but just because that seems to be a good name for a turkey.) Eventually, the chicken will be rubbed with various spices and roasted and served with potatoes and spinach. Hopefully, Harvey will be tasty.

*

So we the moms in the complex have decided to try to have a regular coffee thing every week. I'm hosting tomorrow (er, today, actually). And I just realized that because I completely screwed up pack-out last spring, I have two - count 'em - two coffee cups to my name.

Can a coffee hour that you're hosting be a BYOCC? On the plus side, I made apple coffee cake yesterday, and I'm making coconut chocolate chip scones in the actual morning, once the sun comes up. Fresh-baked yumminess makes up for the lack of cups, right?

Letters

Oct. 26th, 2012 04:15 pm
azriona: (Default)
Dear Plot Bunnies,

I love you, I really do. But seriously, this is not the time to give me the plot of a really weird and twisty post-Reichenbach one-shot. If you're going to give me ideas, please focus on the Nano fanfic. Thank you.

Love,

Me




Dear Andrew,

I love you, but I am not a climbing gym.

Love,

Momma



Dear Toilet,

I have five days to try to drum into the toddler's head that Potty Training Is Fun. Therefore, this was not the weekend to decide to stop working.

Love,

Me





Dear Flist,

Can I just pay someone to potty-train my toddler for me? Because this really sucks.

Love,

Me
azriona: (DW - Five Minutes)
Last night's sleep was completely messed up; I think I got a total of four hours, with a two-hour break in the middle. And today was a travel day, complete with airports and ridiculous queues and the most awesome in-flight entertainment system ever (seriously, you could chat with other passengers, it was neat, and I saw The Hunger Games finally, and I like the book better), and then a sick-to-his-stomach toddler at Passport Control. Well, it's not like I haven't been thrown up on before, and then the guy at the passport line took pity on us and let us go in the Sooper Special Squirrel line, which was very nice of him since both Andrew and I were kind of smelly at that point.

We're attempting to put Andrew down now, which is not going overly well, and I intend to fall asleep shortly thereafter, but I wanted to say the following.

1. Watching Doctor Who along with the rest of the UK on the TV and not being forced to download it or use a VPN to stream it is awesome..

2.

Dear Mr Moffat,

YOU. SUCK. OMG, would you frickin' get off your obsession with making people jump off rooftops already???? PEOPLE DO NOT NORMALLY JUMP OFF ROOFTOPS AND LIVE TO TELL THE TALE.

Love,

Me.


In all seriousness, I could not watch that scene without thinking of Reichenbach. I hate it when fandoms collide.

And though it's sad that Rory is timelocked....well, at least Amy's in there with him. Take that as you will.




In other news, there were a stack of magazines in the foyer of the flat where we're staying, and one of them has Benedict Cumberbatch on the cover. Hurrah for unexpected reading material!

*flop*

Sep. 6th, 2012 06:38 pm
azriona: (Default)
Dear Today,

OMG, Today. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were bipolar. First you throw some really awesome reviews for "Heart" at me, and then you give me a couple of plot breakthrough bunnies for some stories I've been fretting over.

And THEN you give Andrew ALL THE FEELS and ALL THE TANTRUMS and ALL OF THE ENERGY and NONE OF THE NAPS. I am typing this letter to you while he's eating his yoghurt with his hand (spoons are for wimps), and attempting to drink his milk through his matchbox car.

(Don't ask, Today. Let's just say that drinking your milk through a car is neither productive, successful, or particularly neat.)

Pardon me before he decides to paint the couches in lemon-flavored yoghurt.

Sincerely,

Me
azriona: (Mr Morton)
Dear Various Characters Appearing in my current WIPs,

YOU ARE ALL ANNOYING.

Frustrated!Sherlock, get your head out of your rear and keep on target, please.

Mycroft/Lestrade, you are supposed to be in a CRACK fic, not an angst fic. Stop bringing up sad and depressing childhood traumas.

John, Sherlock, and Greg (of casefic fame), stop sulking in the corner, the introspection is for your own good.

ACD!Holmes, you only get 60 words, you're not allowed to have soliloquies.

Until you can all learn to behave better, I'm going to ignore all of you and watch the second episode of Parade's End now.

Love,
Me


Gah. On the bright side, the slump seems to be over. Now if everyone could just play nicely.....
azriona: (Default)
Dear Self,

Kudos for thinking to mail things ahead so that they were waiting for you upon your arrival. (Including such necessities as razors, bath sponges, and warm-weather clothing.

But next time, maybe also think to mail ahead measuring spoons and a cooking thermometer. *sigh*

Love,

Me

(I know I can order them on Amazon, but it's particularly galling since I also know I have plenty of them on the back of a camel somewhere, still headed toward me.)

*

In other news, Bill and I watched the first episode of Game of Thrones the other night, when we were able to get Andrew to sleep before 10pm. We were....well....not overly impressed. (The costumes were pretty, though.) Flisters who have seen more than we have: it does get better, yes? How many episodes do we need to give it?
azriona: (This Sucks Penguins)
Dear Daylight Savings Time,

FUCK. YOU.

Signed,

The mother of the two-year-old who has been unable to sleep all day and has been screaming his head off for the last two and a half hours.

p.s. Fine, it's probably not all your fault. I dare say a good chunk is also the low-grade fever and diarrhea he's been having as well, but mostly, I blame you, because if it weren't for you, it'd be 9.30 right now, and I would stand some shot of getting him to sleep before I collapse in my own bed.
azriona: (Default)
Mailed off the visa application today. I'm told it will take about two weeks for the visas to process. We're allowing for about a month, so hopefully they won't be horrifically late. Bill put in for the actual airline tickets, and the pack-out people come this afternoon to survey our belongings and determine how much packing material they need to bring along. I'm worried that the survey guy is going to look at our stuff and say, "You only have 10,000 pounds of storage allotted to you? Oh dear."

I'm currently trying to shuffle our belongings into various rooms/piles. We have storage (things that stay here), surface (things that go to our final destination on the slow boat/yak), and air (things which go to our final destination quickly). Theoretically, air is supposed to arrive in 2-3 weeks, and surface in 2-3 months. But Bill received his air and surface shipments at the same time - four months after he sent them, which is making me somewhat worried. So today I mailed a box full of clothes for Andrew and I with the idea that at least I don't have to pack them. Also because I think my suitcase is going to be full of toys and supplies for toddler and cat, and I may end up wearing the same shirt for a month or so when we get there.

Conclusion: we have too much stuff. How on earth did we get all this stuff? Why on earth does anyone need all of this stuff? There are days when I think how a nice big flood would solve a whole lot of problems. More so on days when I'm trying to pack.

For the moment, though: I'm buying Cleo a new cat carrier, a slightly larger one (still airline approved) than the one she's been using. It's rated for up to 22 pounds - Cleo is only nine, but the smaller one is rated for up to 10 pounds, and really isn't all that much smaller. Also, is pink. I'm also going to get Feliway, on suggestion from the vet, which will theoretically calm Cleo down so she's not yowling the entire trip. I figure the plane is already going to hate me because I'm traveling with a toddler, no need to add a yowling cat into the mix.

The Saga of the Diapers, Continued. )
azriona: (Default)
Dear Guy in Truck from Yesterday,

Thank you for honking at me like crazy when I was getting onto Route 28 yesterday afternoon. I couldn't figure out why you were honking at me, until I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the carry-out container with the half-eaten cheese quesadilla sitting on the trunk. I was able to pull over and rescue it before it splattered across the highway. May all your quesadillas have extra cheese on them.

Sincerely,

Me


Dear Random Unseen Person in the Trader Joe's Parking Lot this Afternoon,

I hope you are enjoying that gallon of organic reduced fat milk that I purchased today. I didn't mean to leave it in the grocery cart, but between trying to balance the bag of groceries, my purse, and my toddler, as well as the rainstorm, I just forgot to pick it up. You must have seen me leave it there; after all, it wasn't more than three minutes between the time I left the milk in the cart and then returned looking for my missing milk. Did you think I'd left it on purpose? Did you even consider trying to call after me? Trader Joe's was nice enough to give me another gallon, so I hope you enjoy (and needed, for that matter) your free milk.

Also, meet my friend, Karma. She and I are on excellent terms. But she's quite the bitch, so beware.

Sincerely,

Me
azriona: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]


I....don't have one. I'm not really into gifs, to tell the truth. But I would go and find one if this entry won me the $50 Amazon gift card.

Incidentally:

Dear People Who Feel The Need To Dress Their Cars Up Like Reindeer,

I am judging you. Mostly because seriously? You couldn't have found a better use for that $12? Sheesh.

Sincerely,

Me

*

Dear Lady Who Honked At Me While I Waited at the Stop Sign This Morning, and Then Felt The Need To Speed Past Me While Leaning On Your Horn and Throwing Me a Dirty Look,

Nice accident you nearly caused there. Also, your car lost its antlers, might want to swing around and pick them up.

Sincerely,

Me

Ergh.

Aug. 10th, 2011 09:19 pm
azriona: (Default)
Dear Fellow Customer at Marshalls, Who Joined the Line From the Front, Asked Me If I was First, Confirmed that I Was First while getting in line behind me, commented on how cute Andrew was, and then once a register opened up tried to tell me that they were in fact first and that I was behind them,

No, no, please. Go ahead. Ignore the now-screaming toddler who's defeated the safety strap on the cart and is trying to do a header onto the concrete floor while I attempt to dislodge the twenty items he's grabbed from the last-minute-won't-you-buy-me shelves and keep him from bashing his brains out. Totally okay if you skip ahead of me in line and go first. Don't mind me at all.

Jackasses.

No love,

Me



On the bright side, Andrew napped for 3 hours today. AND in an effort to wean him from the pacifier, I clipped the end of it off, and he STILL went down to sleep without protest.

Dear Sleep Gods,

That was not a taunt. I fully expect him to



Never mind. The phone rang, and he's been crying ever since. *sigh*
azriona: (Where have you been today?)
Somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike, yesterday afternoon:

Me: What are you doing?
Bill: Trying to find the traffic report.
Me: Not like we're going to understand what it says.
Bill: Well, if it says that a dinosaur has eaten the Tappan Zee Bridge, we'll understand that's bad.
Me: Sure, because there's a hungry dinosaur roaming around New York. Although if he's just eaten a bridge, he's probably not hungry anymore.
Bill: I bet we're the only car on the Turnpike having this conversation right now.
Me: You think?


Dear Whoever Invented Portable DVD Players:

YOU ARE A GOD. Statues should be erected of you, and cities should be named for you. Show up at my door, and I will feed you brownies until you pop.

Much Love,

Me

p.s. Please send extra batteries.


Dear Disney Corporation,

Ten minutes of previews that can't be skipped while the batteries on the portable DVD player are running dangerously low? YOU SUCK.

No Love,

Me
azriona: (Default)
For the third day in a row, Andrew has napped in excess of two-and-a-half hours.




Dear Napping Gods,

Thank you. As promised, here is a kidney. Keep it up, and my liver's yours.

Love and Eternal Devotion,

Me
azriona: (Default)
Andrew had his neurologist appointment yesterday. Cut for the non-interested. )

In other news, I can absolutely confirm that I am not allergic to bees.

Scene: Leesburg Animal Park, Tuesday. I've left Andrew with Moms #1 and #2 and their offspring while I head over to the restrooms.

Me: Huh, there's a rock in my shoe.
Bee: BZZZZ.
Me: THAT'S NOT A ROCK! EEK!
Bee: *STING*
Me: OW.
Bee: *flies away*
Me: OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW.

I fall down and cradle my right foot. My instep is beginning to burn like insanity. After what seems like half an hour, someone notices that I've fallen and I can't get up.

Mom #1: Sharon?
Me: I got stung by a bee.
Mom #1: Are you allergic?
Me: No idea.
Mom #1: Can you breathe?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Can you swallow?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Okay, let me know if that changes.
Me: Sure.
Bee: BZZZZZZZ.
Me: OMG IT'S BACK.
Mom #1: Returned to the scene of the crime.
Bee: *lands on my leg*
Me: ACK. GET IT OFF ME.
Mom #1: Okay, it's gone.
Me: Whew.
Mom #1: Do you want my epi-pen?
Me: Why do you have an epi-pen?
Mom #1: I'm allergic to bees.
Me: THEN WHY DID YOU NOT RUN SCREAMING WHEN IT RETURNED???? I WOULD RUN SCREAMING, BUT I'M DISABLED NOW.
Mom #1: Eh. Bee.
Me: I still have to pee.
Mom #1: Drama queen.

I head to the restroom - I can walk fine, strangely enough. It's on the way back that the venom really starts to kick in - it hurts to walk, so I start limping.

Mom #1: Breathing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Swallowing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Do you want some aspirin?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: It's got a little Valium dust on it, that a problem?
Me: Remind me what Valium does?
Mom #1: It'll make you really, really happy.
Me: Bring it on.


Of course, I think the bee was retaliating: I accidentally swallowed a fly last Friday. I don't know why I swallowed that fly. I have not, to date, swallowed a spider, and frankly, I don't plan to.

The good news: my foot no longer hurts, I can still breathe, and I can still swallow. On the other hand, my instep itches like crazy, which is just an annoying place to have an itch. Stupid bee.

Dear Bee,

Thank you for stinging me. Here, have a first-class pre-paid ticket back to Melissa Majoria. And just for that, I'm buying honey tomorrow. YOUR CHILDREN WILL STARVE, BEE. Think on that.

No love,

Me

Letter

Jun. 10th, 2011 03:36 pm
azriona: (Star Wars - Dentist)
Dear Andrew's Cuspids,
which have been coming in for the last three weeks, and
at their present rate of movement
won't be fully in until he's in
high school:

FUCKING MOVE ALREADY.

No love,

Andrew's Mommy,
who is really tired of Cranky!Baby
in combination with
High Temperatures and
Cranky!Hasn't!Been!Fed!Since!1973!Cat.



Dear Hyland's,
who manufactured those teething tablets
which were the only thing that soothed Andrew
while he was first teething last summer
but were pulled from the market last fall
because of some issues
with excessive amounts of
belladonna
(which is apparently poisonous):

YOU SAID YOU'D BE BACK ON THE SHELVES IN SUMMER 2011. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?????

No love,

Andrew's Mommy,
who would happily fund whatever you need
funding for
in order to get those tablets
back on the market
now.
azriona: (Andrew - grumpy face)
So when I applied for Andrew's SSN, I was told it could take four to six weeks to actually receive said number in the mail. Six weeks was up last Friday, which was understandably somewhat busy, so I didn't get a chance to call the office until today to find out where his number is.

Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about my son's social security number. We applied for one six weeks ago but haven't received it yet.
Social Security Employee: Okay, what's name and birthdate, please?
Me: *gives it*
Social Security Employee: *types furiously*
Me: *waits patiently*
Social Security Employee: Hmm. That's weird.
Me: ...Um, what's weird?
Social Security Employee: I can't find him in the system.
Me: That's not good.
Social Security Employee: *double-checks spelling*
Me: *confirms spelling is correct*
Social Security Employee: You applied at a specific office?
Me: Yes.
Social Security Employee: I suggest calling that office.
Me: Okay, thanks!

*a few minutes later*

Me: Hi, I'm calling to find out about my son's social security number. We applied for one six weeks ago but haven't received it yet.
Social Security Employee: Okay, what's the case reference number?
Me: *gives it*
Social Security Employee: *types furiously*
Me: *waits patiently*
Social Security Employee: It's showing as still pending.
Me: Ah. What's that mean?
Social Security Employee: We're still waiting on confirmation. It can be as quick as four, but sometimes it can take eight.
Me: That's longer.
Social Security Employee: Yes. I recommend calling back in two weeks.
Me: Okay then.


Dear Social Security Administration,

I promise you, my son is an American citizen, has never had a social security number, and was born. Please give him a number, because I have a whole bunch of grandparents who are getting really itchy about college savings. Thank you.

No love,

Me
azriona: (Default)
Frankly, I want to know how anyone with more than one kid has the energy to create the second kid, because by the time Bill gets home, I'm so tired I just want to hand Andrew over and go to bed. Alone.

Today, we went to the Playseum in Bethesda. Andrew spent twenty minutes dumping all the sand out of the sandbox, then another ten minutes taking all the fake food off the shelves in the fake grocery store, then another twenty minutes trying to stick his fingers into the bunny cages (very real bunnies, who were mostly blase about the whole thing), and then another five seconds attempting to use the fake fishing poles to beat another child over the head (seconds because Mommy can be way quick sometimes), and then a blissful twenty minutes banging away on the cymbals and drum set. I say blissful, not because it was quiet - it really, really wasn't, and I may now be deaf in my right ear - but because he wasn't actually destroying and/or hurting anyone. Annoying, yes, but those other moms could have left the room, I wasn't forcing them to stay.

Anyway, the Playseum was a hit. Andrew loved it. I'm wiped.

*

Dear Inventor of Windows 7's split-screen ability, allowing me to type while Andrew watches Muppets on YouTube (current viewing: Lynda Carter singing Orange Colored Sky):

I love you.

Love,
Me
azriona: (This Sucks Penguins)
Dear Body,

I would like to not be sick now. I've been sick for just over a week, and it's gotten old. Also, Andrew and I have Things To Do this week.

Also, I would like to find the video camera, which I haven't seen since we packed the bags in Hawaii. I remember putting it in the smaller of the checked luggage, and I'm pretty sure I didn't take it back out again, and we did a room check before leaving, so it's got to be around here somewhere. Unless Andrew took it out when our backs were turned and tossed it behind some furniture, which is fairly likely, since he totally does that sort of thing. The only question is whether he did that in Hawaii or Virginia.

No Love, unless you find the video camera, in which case, lots of love,

Me

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