I got a ticket today.

Ticket, as in moving traffic violation.

This, my friends, is a first for me.  The first blemish on my spotless 16-year driving record.  And I’m none too happy.

Technically, I was cited for “wasting finite resources.”  Which, in my case, meant that the officer who cited me was under the impression that I was speeding.  Either that, or she was just shy of making her ticketing quota for the month of August and I was a wrongplacewrongtime casualty.

She claimed that her radar “strongly” lit me up speeding.

I’m far from convinced.  But that, apparently, is beside the point.  Or at least it is for now.  We’ll see what the judge has to say though.

The kicker?

The kicker was that this highway patrolwoman had the nerve to approach my car and explain to me that I was being cited for “wasting finite resources” while her patrol car idled behind us.

Um?  Finite resources.  Ahem.

She proceeded to take my license and registration.

Her car idled.

She walked back to her car and radioed in to check for warrants (because, you know in my spare time I have this pesky habit of knocking off banks and stuff).

Her car idled.

She came back and argued with me about the validity of her claim.

Her car idled.

The gas it was a guzzlin’ friends.  I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if her AC was blaring all the while.  And yet still, she ticketed me for “wasting finite resources.”  As I sat in my parked minivan with the engine turned off, our reusable shopping bags laying on the seat next to me.

Finite resources.  Uh-huh.

It took everything I had to zip my lip.  Because I had plenty to say about finite resources.  Like the fossil fuels that were burning their way through her gas tank.  Or the triplicate paper she used to write me a bogus ticket.  And that’s saying nothing of the tax dollars wasted on ticketing a homemaker in a minivan, on her way home from a visit to the park with her four-year-old gangsta preschooler.

Finite resources.

I’d love to tell you more but yo, some homey in the hood just blew powder and now I gotz to blow ‘for the PoPo come light us up and send us ovah.  Yo.

Or something like that. :)

What. a. week.  Yep.  One of those.

The kids went back to school on the 19th and I don’t feel like I’ve taken a breather since.  No time to breathe when you’ve got orthodontist appointments sandwiched by swim classes times two.

We’ve got homework coming out the wazoo.  Lunch making and meal-planning.  Sports sign-ups and the accompanying physicals.  Endocrinologists, EENT’s, dermatologists and ophthalmologists to visit (chalk those up to bad long-term timing on my part).

My intent of this post, however was not so much to play the pity-me-because-I’m-so-busy card.

I’d rather forget all about the go-go-go’ness for a second.  And focus, instead, on that which I’ve been savoring:

Like just a minute ago when my soon-to-be 4 year-old sought me out–fresh from his bath–to play the tushie game.

Or how instead of waking up to an empty side of the bed, I’ve been stumbling out of bed while it’s still dark so as to join my lovie on his early morning run.

I’m enjoying these last weeks of 15.  Because she’s counting down the days until sweet sixteen, and the dating threshold she’ll cross into.

My absent-too-long monsoon friend has arrived.  The pitter patter makes my soul smile.

These are the moments–sprinkled sparingly throughout my days–that remind me.  Comfort me.  Create space for breathing.

And, believe you me, I’m taking notice.

According to dictionary.com, the word ‘debacle’ is defined as: a complete collapse or failure.

Based on that definition I can confirm that the recent painting of our master bedroom was, in fact, a debacle.

Ah.  Where to begin?

I could go back nearly five years, to the day we closed on this house we built.  The day in which our salesman delivered the keys to us and I rushed right over–three gallons of paint in tow–and painted until the daylight disappeared.  Terra Cotta.  Or, at least that’s what I intended.  It’s tough to say whether it was a gradual paint fade or just a run-of-the-mill change of heart that led to me eventually despising that “p’orange” (pink-orange) color that covered every square inch–ceiling included–of our bedroom.  For five long years.

No matter the reason, really.  The end result was the same: a return to the color the builder originally delivered.  And it wasn’t the first time.

So, too, did I paint every square inch of the second largest bedroom in the house back when we moved in.  It was to be Kennedy and Cassidy’s room and I deemed “silver fawn” (think minty green) as the perfect hue for their space.  It lasted only four years.  These days, it, too, has returned to its original color, with the exception of one accent wall.

Our master bedroom went the same way: we returned it to its original glory, with the exception of one accent wall.

I’m thinking that–for future reference–one accent wall is definitely the way to go.  So as to avoid another Great Paint Debacle.

It started when I visited the Home Depot paint counter and had two gallons of interior satin paint matched to the original color.

Easy peasie lemon squeezie.

Or not.

All was well.  Jeff and I painted our little hearts out and happily finished over half the job (having dipped into that second gallon of paint) by lunch break on that first day.  It looked fabulous.

Until.  Until we returned to our painting posts after lunch.

It didn’t take that keen of an eye to notice that two distinctly different hues of beige covered our walls.  The differentiation, of course, due to a mistaken smidgen of red paint having been added to that second gallon of color matched paint.

Not such a big deal.  Or, at least, it wouldn’t have been if were closer to town.

But we’re not.  We’re in BDE (butt-dessert-Egypt).

Fast forward two hours.  Second gallon of paint mixed, shaken and freshly rolled onto the walls.

SCREEEEEEEECH.

Oops.  It seems as though we’ve got a third beige hue festooned upon our walls.

Trip number three to the paint counter finds us being not-so-friendly with the paint guys.

There is a sleep.  A fresh set of morning eyes.  And yet another coat of paint applied to the walls.

SCREEEEEEECH.

You guessed it.

I’m rambling, and I hate to ramble.  Suffice it to say that when all was said and done, it took us THREE days, five different gallons of paint, three trips to the Home Depot and countless rollers to paint our bedroom.  Not counting tantrums.  Ahem.

The best part, though?  The best part is that, in certain slants of light, those with a keen eye for detail will notice a slight color differentiation on the walls of our bedroom.  Yes, still.  I’m not telling where, though.  You can’t make me.

I promised pictures of this grand master bedroom makeover of ours and I will deliver.  I’m waiting on the funds to purchase the pièce de résistance.

Once I acquire that piece you can bet your sweet patootie that I’ll be proudly posting pictures.

Moral of the story: when purchasing two gallons of paint to apply side-by-side, pre-mix them.  You’ll be glad you did. *And thank you, Heather, for that handy dandy (day-late-and-a-dollar-short) tip.

Friday night:

• Jeff’s bbq.  Complete with mesquite wood chips.
• Grilled turkey burgers with bbq sauce, swiss, and avocado.
• Smores.  With peanut butter cups instead of boring old Hershey bars.
• Sitting under the stars, gabbing with two of my favorite girls.  Evah.

It was the perfect spring night.  Reminiscent of our Memorial Day camping trips to Grand Canyon.  We’d have pizza sandwiches from the sandwich irons.  We’d learn about California condors and fossilized dinosaur footprints during the ranger talks.  We played rock tag.  And Uno–in the camper–while the rain poured down, down,down.

Now I’m jonesing to go back.

Not so much for the camping, but more for the unadulterated family time.  No cell phones.  No tv.  No blog.  Just my peeps.

The wheels are turning in my head.

Hoping for a Memorial Day camping trip.

Something to hold me over until our next big family vacay: the southern Caribbean cruise/Disney World trip.

I have high hopes.

For starry skies.  Long walks.  Bedtime stories read by flashlight.  And donuts{gasp} for breakfast.

Camping with my peeps.

Dirty feet and all.

How about you?  What does spring leave you jonesing for?

I made a cake today.  Lemon Bundt.

I also: took Jayce to the doctor, read him six books, made bean and potato tacos, and stood outside in the warm desert sun.

And yesterday I did all the laundry.  Every single load.  And I talked to Kelly on the phone for an hour.  And I had my eyes dilated.

Do you notice what’s missing?

I do.

I didn’t sit in front of my computer all day.

I didn’t revise a single chapter.  Or spell-check.  Not even once.

My characters did visit me in my dreams.  I don’t expect anything less considering how much time I’ve been spending with them.

It was nice to see them there–animated.

Nicer though?  Coming up for air.

Breathing.

Living amongst the living.

Baking.  Reading.  Running.  Working.  Playing.  Laughing.

Not that I don’t love the writing.  I do.

But I’ve missed this other.  This being.

{breathing deep}.  It’s good to be back.

So nice to see you.

Working my tail off here in the Old Pueblo.

My eyes are blurry from too much time at the computer.

My tailbone hurts because I’m too cheap to invest in one of those uber cool computer desk chairs.

Carpel tunnel is most likely in my future.

But I’m not complaining; I’m too busy writing.

I’ve got some exciting news on the horizon–with regard to my novel.

But I’m not there just yet.

Soon.

Hopefully soon.

Monday morning marks the beginning of spring break.  Which equates to two full weeks of sleeping well past 5:45.  And nary a packed lunch in sight. {cue the angel chorus}.

We spent the weekend with Gram.  I just adore her.  That’s all there is to say about that.

The seven of us took in the new Alice in Wonderland film (used the fancy term for movie in honor of the Oscars) on Saturday.  I give it a solid 1.5 thumbs up.  There was just one part (maybe about 15 minutes or so) that sort of dragged for me.  Though, Jeff, Torri, and Kennedy loved it in its entirety.  Even Jayce and Cassidy were entertained throughout.  It wasn’t too dark or scary for the kids (my kids, anyway).  There was a very interesting storyline with an underlying positive message, especially for young girls.  Oh, and we saw the 3-D version.  Very cool.

It rained again today.  We had minestrone and a fire.  I love El nino years.

Have you heard that Black Eyed Peas song, “I Gotta Feeling?”

Well.  This week?  It’s gonna be a good, good week.  I gotta feelin’.

There’s been a constant chorus of nose blowing in our house.

And coughing.  Hacking up lungs and whatnot.

Nose-blowing and coughing and lungs.  Intermittently.

For days.  And days.

It hit me hard last week.

Unexpectedly.

Which explains my unannounced absence.

I would have loved to have posted.  But I was laid up on the couch with a fever (101.5 thankyouverymuch)–convinced I had pneumonia (which I or may not have used as a guilt trip against my husband so I’m unwilling to admit now that maybe I didn’t actually have pneumonia.  Because I did.  Totally pneumonia.  That just so happened to go away on its own).

Movingrightalong.

Things have taken a turn for the better.

There was a date at the Cheesecake Factory.

A trip to the movies with my girls to see Dear John.

And a whole lotta sitting by the fire, reading.  As the rain fell down, down, down.

The Cheesecake Factory didn’t do much for me.  (I think our locally owned restaurants have spoiled me forever).

The movie was quite good, in a chick flick, sappy sort of way.

And I’ll let you know about the book when I finish it.

But don’t let me do all the talking.

Did you see any good movies this weekend?  Read any good books?  Try any new recipes?  Do tell.

Did you miss me?  I missed you.

You’re wanting to know what “stuff” I had going on last week, aren’t you?  Why I didn’t post for a week.

Fine.  Twist my arm.  I’ll tell you.

It had a little something to do with my rocket scientist husband.  He’s decided to build an even more impressive resume by adding not one, but two Masters degrees to it.  So he was up in Phoenix for the week taking an orientation for the dual degree online Masters program he’s starting this very week.

Hot shot.

I, on the other hand, was here at home, working my own patootie off.  On what, you ask?  Oh, just a little project I’ve got going.  Namely: a novel.  My novel.  Or manuscript, in its current form.

I had to choose between working on it or blogging and I chose my manuscript.  Hopefully I will have an announcement about that soon.  I’m just going to make you suffer through the curiosity in the meantime.

I will tell you that Thursday was a good day for me on all counts though.  Three fabulous things happened that day:

1. My hunky husband came home.
2. I finished my manuscript revisions.
3. When my hunky husband came home he brought with him a new wedding ring.  To replace the one I lost in December.  And the bomb-blingity makes me happy. :)

Pretty tough to beat a day like that, no?

Full disclosure here though: the week hasn’t been all good.

Because on Saturday the Cardinals blew their chances at taking another spin in the Super Bowl. {insert sorry consolation prize sound effect here}.  That, in spite of the rambunctious cheering squad they had based right here in my living room.

I thought that was bad enough.  But then. Then?

I broke out in a serious rash.  A rash to rival all rashes.  All red and bumpy.  And itchy.  OH the itchy.

And like Goldilocks sleeping in baby bear’s bed–it’s still here.

I’m at a loss when it comes to figuring out the origin of this rash of mine.  It encompasses most of my trunk {boobs excluded} and both legs — front and back.  I have no idea.  We’ve not changed soaps or lotions or anything like that.  I don’t think I have a virus.

The only change I’ve had in my diet is the addition of Acai berry juice.  I’m thinking maybe that’s the culprit?  If so, it’d be the only allergy I have to food of any sort.  As far as I know at least.

Are any of you allergic to the antioxidant powerhouse that is the Acai berry?  I’m curious.

Yeah, so not all good.  But the good definitely outweighed the bad.

And that’s saying nothing of what is soon to come.

This week, for instance, I’m taking my two oldest girls to go see Legally Blonde the musical.  It’ll be here in Tucson this week and if you’re local and interested in going you should click on the Broadway in Tucson link over there in my sidebar.

What else?  Hmmm….it seems like there was something else.

Oh yeah.

Just under three weeks from now I’ll be headed to Nashville to hang with a select few of my favorite bloggers {not to mention Harry Connick Jr, hello} at Blissdom.

Look out music city.

As for the rest of 2010?  It’s looking mighty bright friends.

Mighty bright indeed.

So tell me.  What are you looking forward to on the horizon?

My bedtime has come and gone.

Way gone.

But there is no sleep to be had.

Not for me anyway.

Not now.

Three of my babies are gone.

They are safe and warm – this I know.  They’re with Dad.  (Theirs, not mine).

And though my head knows it, the knowledge does nothing for the knot in my stomach.  The onslaught of what-ifs.  The images that keep me from sleep.

I hate to be a downer.

But tonight this morning I’m down.

Sigh.

On a completely different note, there is something to be thankful for though.

That is, that we opted to rent Julie and Julia tonight as opposed to Paranormal Activity.

Both were available in the Redbox.

Considering the fact, though, that I’m sitting here alone in the dark after midnight I think we made the right decision.

Had we gone the other way I’d be pretty freaked out right about now.  I just know it.

Freaked out and feeling sorry-for-myself-gloomy.

Instead I’m just the latter.

PS. We turned Julie and Julia off halfway through.  Not worth even the dollar in my not-so-humble opinion.

It was a real yawn-fest.

Come to think of it…maybe I’ll turn it back on now.

Bring on the yawning.

G’night.