She Was An American Girl

Dermal

As I write this, I'm looking up "dermal" links to show you what I had done.  Good thing I didn't look them up before I had it done otherwise, I wouldn't have done it!  DANG!!!  But, this doesn't look so bad, does it?

Actually, I LOVE it!  It's bling inbedded in my body.  It kinda freaks me out when I look at it, when I think about what it REALLY is. 

I got my dermal done at The Electric Chair in Huntington Beach.  When I went in there a few weeks ago, to look around, I knew I would be back to get it.

Quite a few years ago, I had been into The Electric Chair, but that was in Riverside.  That's when I got my belly button pierced.  It has long since closed up....not only this store location, but the piercing.

So, as the dermal piercing goes,  I didn't see any of it get done.  No way in HECK can I watch something like that.  But, my boyfriend, Manuel, was there to watch the entire thing while holding my hand. 

Yes, I screamed, "FUCK" as she sliced my chest to insert the anchor plate.  But once the gem was snapped on top, the pain was gone and has been gone since.

In the plate, there is a hole that the skin will grow through to keep the anchor in.  Once that is done, you can change out the jewelry...change color, silver, pearl, etc.  Although, I can't imagine ever doing that.  I guess it's still too new for me.

Tell me what you think....honestly.

Fire in the Hole!

I turned the oven on to get it hot and ready for the tray of chicken enchiladas I was making. As I was making them, I smelled something burning. I figured o e of the boyz, Ryan or Nick had spilled something on the burner.

Suddenly, Ryan came in throwing open the oven door to find a magazine rolled up and tucked under the electric burner. It was in full flames! Once it burned out, I swept out the ashes and put my enchiladas in.

Cuddle

Cuddle time!

What's her name?

Two steps forward, one step back.  I'm saying it again.  I sound like a broken record.

It's twice as much work for me to get a hair appointment.  I have to get the appointment around the beautician's schedule, my schedule and Ryan's schedule.  I finally got that figured out and went to get my hair done today.  The gal who took my appointment gave me to someone else but didn't give the other girl all my details.  I have this specific window of time I can get something done.  I ended up leaving the salon with NOT the color I asked for, barely a trim, let alone a full hair cut and my hair wet because she ran long and Ryan had to go to work so I had to get home to be with Mom.  I'm still not sure what my hair looks like because it was wet the last time I walked passed a mirror.

Another PIA is getting Seroquel for my mom.  She has to see the dr. ever six months for a new prescription.  Now is that time, but she has ran out of pills.  It takes a couple of weeks to get an appointment so they say to come by and pick up some samples, they can give us 50.  I hustle in there to get the samples waiting for me.  As I accept them, a guy in the waiting area says, "Oh, your mom takes Seroquel, huh?  What's her name?"  I don't know if he's legitimately crazy or what.  I would assume he was.  I say, "Oh you don't know her.  She's not from around here.  Her name is Jennie."  He says, "Oh Jennie.  I know Jennie."  Sigh

I get home, put the pills away and notice there are not 50 pills.  There are only 8 pills.  This won't even get me through the weekend.  Come Monday, I'll get to do this all over again.  Sigh.

Life of a Queen

I live the life of a QUEEN!

This is not the first I have realized this.

It was, ever-so-sweetly, brought to my attention, once again, this morning as my daughter brought me coffee in bed, perfectly doctored to my liking, before she went to work. Then, shortly after, I hear my son get Mom up, give her her morning meds and make her breakfast.

I live the life of a QUEEN!

I am SO BLESSED!!!

Yummmmm

Would you like some burrito with your water?

 

Mom put her burrito in her water tonight for dinner.

Vent

My foot is hurting.  The pain is going from my heel to my neck. 

I went to my mom's room to bring her to the kitchen to give her her PM meds.  She's laying in bed with no bottoms on, at all.  I find poopie toilet paper scattered in her room.  The toilet is backed up.  I can't find her panties that she was wearing.  I'm cleaning her room up and searching for dirty panties and the pain shoots right up my leg from my heel.  Excruciating pain.

Still can't find the panties.

I just want to cry at the frustration, the pain and the monotony of it all.

What Does it do to Me?

When she's showing her yogurt the fruit I just brought to her, what does it do to me?

When she's holding her baby and showing me to her baby and saying, "There's your mommy!" "There's your mommy!" "There's your mommy!" "There's your mommy!" "There's your mommy!", what does it do to me?

"Pro..."

Easter, 2011

Easter Eve, I colored eggs.

Used Glue Dots and glitter for polka dots.

Used a glue pen and glitter for names.

The Bartolo's put names on their eggs, too!

I made the ham and frijoles.  Michelle made corn.  Billie made potatoes and green beans.

Mary made carrot cake!

Katie and I made mustache's on a stick.  Sammie helped Katie.