What To Expect: The Toddler Years (Hint: A couple of years of serious neurosis)

I've been kvetching about my personal life way too much. Let's bring it back to the supposed theme of this blog - Dally. I did a really dumb thing a few weeks ago. I ordered What To Expect: The Toddler Years so that I may be able to stay abreast of what the little dude should be doing. Well, it's never about what he is doing. It's what he's NOT doing.

I got the book yesterday. Turns out, by now, he should be able to say two words. He only says one. "NO." And sometimes, I'm dubious that he's really even saying no.

Meanwhile, his cousin Truman is quite the orator - practically reciting Obama's inaugural address.

The book doesn't offer much consolation. It says if the kid isn't doing this stuff, check with his pediatrician because he's clearly going to grow up to be a loser who sleeps on your couch and makes daily excuses as to why he can't seem to graduate from community college after eleven years. Well, not in those words but pretty much.

Oh the joys...

Self-Help Me

So I drank the Kool-Aid.

It dawned on me yesterday morning as I was watching Joel Osteen that I did indeed drink the Kool-Aid. This was the third week in a row that I watched his Sunday morning church service. I know now that he always begins his sermon with a joke. And some of them are pretty good.

Yesterday, he was talking about who cares if the recession sucks, there's no money, and people are unemployed cuz guess who's always hiring? G-O-D. God's bank is always lending money, etc. (Well, not exactly, but he was saying something to that effect.) And I TOTALLY found myself saying, "Amen!"

Then I started reading Martha Beck's book Steering by Starlight. It's a self-help book from some life coach I once saw an Oprah. I thought she was a bit of a nut job but I was intrigued by her because she was talking about vision boards which I'm all for. Again, I drank the freakin Kool-Aid. There's all these exercises you're supposed to do as you're reading the book. I have a special notebook (pathetically, it's the journal I started in 2006) that I'm using for these exercises. I'm all into it, life-coaching myself because I'm too cheap to pay for the real deal, but whatever.

So if people think I'm a nut job too now, so be it. I'm determined to make 2009 a MUCH better year than 2008. And even if that just means reading more books (albeit self-help books) so be it. At least it's got me reading. I spent too much of 2008 worrying and being scared. It was such a waste.

2009 is about BRINGING IT.

Hard Drive Teaches Hard Lesson

I just lost a hard drive. I'm not sure what's on it exactly but I think these things are on it:

• A shitload of music
• My master's thesis
• Photos
• My design portfolio
• My Pancho Villa play
  

Now I'm thinking I should just get a new computer. I've had this beautiful machine since 2001. It has been there for me through thick and thin. I'm still running Win2000 Pro on it.

BUT WAIT! Turns out John was harboring one of my back up drives. I plugged the drive into my computer and turns out, my freakin thesis is on there! As well as some very exciting video projects. SWEET.

No music but how many Phil Collins songs do you really need?

No design portfolio which only sucks for the dude I just renewed working with yesterday. His stuff was on there. Oops.

One day, it's really gonna sink in. Backup, backup, backup.

The Wonder of Wonder Pets

I had this delusion yesterday that I could take Dally to a coffee shop to meet up with my estranged high school BFF and sit there, nice and quiet, while we drank choco-coffee and caught up on our wild and crazy high school antics. As I was driving to the coffee shop, I briefed Dally on who Camille (my BFF) was and how to behave in front of her (nice, not like a little maniac). I could see that he really listened to me and had taken in what we had discussed. For about 30 minutes. Then he went nuts doing what looked like breakdancing on the floor but not in a pleasant way. That was my cue to leave.

When we got home, my sister-in-law was there with her kids - who I now refer to as the Tess Twins (even though they're not twins, nor are any of them named Tess). They were watching the Wonder Pets. If you're new to the Wonder Pets, as I sort of was, there are a few things you should know. Linny is a guinea pig. The show really promotes pre-school. AND, most importantly - this is the one that really threw me for a loop - there is more than one episode. I thought it was odd that they showed the same epsiode over and over again. Turns out, that's the scam behind the show. They sing the SAME song - and I'm not talking about the THEME song, wise guy. Every time shit goes down, like someone is in danger, they start with the phone. "The phone! The phone is ringing!" And so on and so forth, singing their way through the problem to the solution. But it's very operatic. I don't know why but I really dig it. I used to be repulsed by it but now, I can't get the damn song out of my head, nor can I cease to recall the little duckling Ming Ming singing, "This is sewious!" (when things are, er, serious).

Am I starting to be like those Barney parents? The ones that would say, "You'll see. When you have kids, you'll be all about Barney because that's the only thing the kid wants to watch." Is Wonder Pets my Barney?

No, no it is not. Barney is a creepy gigantaur that sounds like a child molestor masking his voice to sound fun and harmless. The Wonder Pets are sweet little animals that save other little animals in peril. Plus, Dally could give a rat's ass about TV, Wonder Pets included. I'm the one who's hooked.

Purge, Purge, Purge

I once heard the guy on that show about clutter that may or may not be on TLC say something to the effect of this: clutter is an illusion. It's the life you want but not the life you have. As hard as it is to accept this, he is right. I would LOVE to make an awesome trinket box out of the Laughing Cow cheese round box I've been saving for the past two years but I haven't gotten around to it. It's not going to happen because A. I don't make trinket boxes and B. If I had the time to make trinket boxes, I should be working on something else. Therefore, I must let go of the Laughing Cow.

Probably the biggest item on my mega "To Do" list of 2009 is purge. Not the nachos I ate last night (though if I had the bravado I would). I am going to rid myself of all of the unnecessary things I have in my possession. Next weekend, I'm going to have the garage sale to end all garage sales. I'm even going to sell books. "Books?" you ask. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to part with books? I have double copies of many, many works of literature, some in Spanish AND English. Why? In case I come across the right person who needs to read this or that. I'm done with that illusion too. I don't even know people who read in Spanish.

This weekend I went over to my mom's house to address some boxes she had been housing for years (and had been threatening to throw out). Crapatola, I had two file boxes full of letters people had written me. Remember when people used to write letters? Anyway, it's really hard to get rid of awesome postcards, bizarro artwork, and other miscellaneous mail that is probably the best representation of what my life was like between the ages of 17-21, when email was something you'd heard of but hadn't used much. Getting old, getting old.

Anyhow, I couldn't bare to toss that stuff out so it went from one garage to another. Now it's in my space. What the hell do I do with all this stuff? Should I just suck it up and throw it all away or should I save it somehow? Scrapbook it? (Another illusion?) I'm taking suggestions.

Less Wisdom = More Happiness

I got my wisdom teeth removed on Monday. This wasn't something I had planned. My lower left wisdom tooth had been killing me slowly for the past week and it seems all dentists' offices are closed for the last two weeks of the year (must be nice). I was about to go to any chop shop in Tijuana but I figured I would call my dentist first. It was a longshot. Usually, I call in April to make an appointment and they don't have any openings til July. Surprisingly, they took me in. They said they could see me right away.

I went in at 9:30am. By 11:00am, the dentist had removed all four wisdom teeth. Here's the kicker - the post-op drugs cost half of what the stupid surgery cost. $69 for antibiotics? I could have gotten them for five bucks in TJ.

The Vicodin was surprisingly disappointing/unhelpful. The pain would have killed me by now if not for the grace of Anne, who suggested I take some Motrin. I think I am finally at the point now where I no longer need to take painkillers. *I think*. I keep asking John if he thinks I'm becoming an addict. As with every unusual event in my life, I always take it to the extreme and imagine the worst. When I pulled leg muscles in both my legs after my first (and only) spinning class many years ago, I imagined myself never exercising again and turning into a TLC special: The Heaviest Little Mexican in the World. That didn't happen. Yet.

So I started 2009 feeling four teeth lighter. Who needs wisdom anyway? I want ignorant bliss. I want to know DENTISTS remove widsom teeth. I do not want to know most people have their wisdom teeth removed by ORAL SURGEONS.