That's a wrap

ok... the dust has finally settled from the mayhem of our first christmas with a baby.

I'm acutely aware that this was probably the easiest christmas we'll ever experience, as we didn't travel anywhere, didn't have to hide all the gifts that santa dropped off early, and didn't have to schlep from house to house sending tidings of good cheer. Next year, the toys will be more complicated, and I'm sure the ways to entertain the monster will be as well. I can see it already---- next year is going to take some energy.

As for this year.... it didn't quite fit the description of our traditional holiday fare, but it was pretty nice to relax and spend time alone together as a family. a minimal amount of phone calls were made, but after sending out 168 christmas cards, I think we deserved it. yes, I said 168.

Rhena apparently slipped the guy in the red suit a ten spot or something, because she was treated very very well by family and friends alike.

I think all of my non-selfish intentions on sundays this past year must have impressed the Man with the Plan, because I, too, did very very well on christmas. It wasn't anything I opened as much as the clarity to recognize how very Blessed I am. I mean, sure--- the gifts were there, but looking at Troy holding Rhena, and knowing they are both mine.... talk about powerful. Of course, the little box from Tiffany's helped, too.

So as this year comes to a close, another chapter in our life does too.

Nevada has been good to us. Sure, the pregnant and shadeless summer sucked ass, and I've clearly learned that there are more hues of brown in this state than Crayola is letting the world know about, but there have been some high points.

No doubt we're going to miss our friends the most. We have made some very good friends here... but I'm confident we'll see them again.

I'll definitely miss the lack of traffic. not sure how charlotte is going to be in terms of getting to the mall, but I'm happy thinking I won't need to worry about swerving away from the killer tumbleweeds.

But onward and eastward.


The cars will be picked up some time between January 3rd and 13th, the house gets packed on the 12th, and loaded on a truck on the 13th. The madness ends (or begins???) on the 14th when we fly out.

We just bought all of our plane tickets today.... Troy will spend one extra day in new jersey before flying down to NC.... that's going to suck; having him be so far away..... but we're going to get a webcam so he can keep daily tabs on the little booger. I'm thinking I can do something with this website and the cam, too, but I don't want to think about that yet....


if my brain is going to be on anything, it's the golf-ball of a lump that has formed in my right breast. oh yeah--- it's a beauty.... I got me a clogged milk duct.

yes, I said it.... clogged. milk. duct.


apparently the only way to loosen it up is by rigorous massage and heat. that's like saying to someone who's covered in bruises and going through menopause that you want to squeeze the purple parts in a desert. ok-- maybe not the same, but imagine having the sweats and putting a hotwater bottle to your skin, and choosing to repeatedly stub your toe over and over (and over and over) again. and then when you're done ramming your toe, have someone drop a brick on it for good measure.

my OBGYN says it's normal.... why am I not surprised?

they thought the screwdriver-up-my-crotch feeling was normal. the good news is that with due diligence to self-pain, this golf ball will probably break up within the next few days.. week to a week and a half at the latest.

so that's about it from cze-johnson land. I hope y'all had a wonderful Holiday... whatever one you chose to celebrate.

Popeye is a dirty scoundrel

Hello... Reno police?


yes, ma'am...


I'd like to report a break in.


what seems to be the trouble?


Well, someone has apparently snuck in my house and dropped a pound of spinach in my daughter's diaper. I'm thinking Popeye might have something to do with this....



Yes, dear readers.... Rhena has hit a new level with diaper surprises. ....just yesterday, I was scraping the funky cold corn chowder from her tiny little cheeks, and today I'm choking on a green spongy-leafy substance that could surely double for Popeye's fighting fuel. Hell, if I ate this crap, I'd be able to knock someone out, too!

I'm serious, though--- maybe he was hiding in the shadows of Rhena's gargantuan feet.... all I know is somebody with some close ties to spinach came and dropped a bomb on us.

And I'd like a formal apology from whoever writes all those books that say that breast-fed babies' poops don't stink. I'll admit, for the first 3 months, her poops had a rough-yogurt smell... but lately....

let's just say my little lady is getting more and more like her father every day.

in other words....


her ass STINKS.


like choking-gag-cough-is-that-a-tear-in-my-eye stink.

Nothing really has changed in MY diet, so I'm wondering what's causing this metabolic napalm in my little creature. perhaps another growth spurt??? I wouldn't doubt it....

the poor kid is only 3 months and like a week old... and already she's filling out the feet of her 3-6 month sleepers...... but enough about my little bean sprout.

I have to go find Popeye and tell him to knock it the hell off.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

So today while I was taking my shower, my nose started bleeding.


EWWW!!!!


did I get any sympathy from my husband? no. all I got was... "you need to drink more water. it' s dry here."

really?

no shit, Sherlock!



he must have been brainfarting, cause if there's one thing I've made abundantly clear in our years together is that the only thing I hate more than the SIGHT of my own blood is the TASTE of my own blood!!!

I mean... again, I say--- EWWWWW!!!!


so as I stood in my torture chamber of rain, gagging on the residual blood dripping down the back of my throat, desperately pinching my nose in hopes to stop the hemorraging, he went about his business. As I gagged louder, clutching the shower walls for support in my tomb of terror, he left the room.

I don't think he even blinked.

even later, when I went into his office with tissues stuck up my nose (with some bloody parts hanging out for effect).... I got nothing.

He must have forgotten that I'm the mother of his child... that I carried her in my WOMB for NINE MONTHS.... through the blistering heat of this God-forsaken shadeless state in summer time.......

and to that---- He must have forgotten that I MOVED TO RENO for him.... leaving my happy life in Seattle to settle among the red-necked-white-trashed-80's- junkies-reunion capital of the world.....


He must have forgotten that I wash his dirty underwear and sweat-soaked clothes on a regular basis....


I mean, c'mon.... what's a girl got to do to get an "awww, you poor thing..." around here????


oh well... my complaining is for naught... he never reads this blog, anyway. But don't worry, dear readers... I'm fine. I think I only lost a pint or so.


*sigh* ...I guess I'll just go drink more water.

Led Zepplin--- makes babies happy!

Dear Readers----


I have a secret! wanna hear it? ok--- but only if you pull your screen in close and promise not to tell.....

ready?

ok... here it is.....

BABY MUSIC is NOT NECESSARY!!!!!

that's right--- the Purple Dinosaur, Queer Wiggling Quartet and Strange Blob Industry are in cahoots with each other and are keeping a vital piece of information from their begrudgingly listening adult public. But I'm here to bust that door wiiiiide open!

I mean, yes--- kids like music... even moreso... kids like people who dance crazy. (enter cartoony dinosaurs, four guys who dress funny and colorful blobs) but what is more appealing to our youngsters? the MUSIC or watching people make fools of themselves?

I don't think we're giving the babes of today enough credit. They're products of a very cynical world, and I can bet a whole quarter that they're hip to our game. I really think they enjoy kicking back and being entertained just as much as us CSI junkies. SO while us parents are tuckered out from working all day, or feeding the kid all night... it's easy to flip on the TV and let someone else do the entertaining.

But I can't help but wonder if I found some concert footage of Led Zepplin and played it for my monster if she wouldn't be just as happy, if not HAPPIER, cause at least she's listening to some damn good tunes. I mean... Robert Plant was a crazy mo'fo, and by ANY standards, you could call his dance moves entertaining, if not wildly eccentric and trippy. Hell, I'd even venture to say he's speaking baby language with all those multi-pitched screams... don't believe me? go on... put on Immigrant Song.... see what happens! (no really... click on it... )

Now I'm not condoning encouraging the kiddies to spark up and chill to Stairway to Heaven all day, but I certainly don't think there's anything wrong with letting the kids know there's more music out there other than Disney. Miles Davis, Johnny Cash, Aerosmith, Rob Base and DJ Easy Rock, Frank Sinatra, and let's not forget disco!!! you want a crazy dance?? DO THE HUSTLE!

Point is this.... like it says in this great book I received, called The Three Martini Playdate.... sooner or later, the youngin' is going to find a song that they must absolutely hear over and over (and over.. and over...) again.... might as well be a song you like, too! ESPECIALLY if you're going to have to dance to it, too!

So rock on, dear friends.... and be happy next Christmas when the little tike asks for Earth, Wind and Fire's Greatest Hits, and not some wiggling guitar that is impossible to find anywhere online except for e-bay.

Our house is a very, very fine house

and apparently someone else thinks so, too.


that's right, kiddies.... pack the bags and hide the valuables..... this house has an offer on it, and by golly, Miss Molly.... we's is a gonna take it!


we should know for sure what our final day in Nevada will be within the next two weeks, but if all goes well, the Johnson Trio will be heading east around the end of January. Still debating on whether to drive or fly, which I'm thinking that no matter what path we choose, it could probably be turned into some movie of epic proportions.

other than that, I'm still recovering from the Christmas Social. I had about six too many vanilla latte martinis, and about 3 not-enough-for-an-old-lady-like-me hours of sleep. Yes, I know the social was two days ago, but the 3 months prior of very interrupted-slash-very-minimal sleep COMBINED with the lack of sleep and abundance of espresso and vanilla vodka is starting to rear its ugly head. In other words---- me thinks I'm tired.

SO on that note, I'm going to go grab some sugar plums and re-introduce myself to my pillows. After all.... I need to be well-rested for when we go see the mouse in 102 days!

I'm BAAAAAAAAACK!

Well, I've had plenty of time to think of blog material in my hiatus.


Troy's monitor blew up, so he had been using the laptop. During this time, I rejoined the makeup mafia, took some pictures of Rhena, put up our christmas tree, wrote some Christening thank you's, took some more pictures of Rhena, made all the favors for the upcoming social, cleaned the house, put the house on the market, took even MORE pictures of Rhena, wrote some more thank you's, then figured I should take a few pictures of Rhena.


It's not that I like taking pictures of the kid or anything, but she IS the firstborn, and if I don't use up half of the hard drive by the time she's six months old, I might lose my license or something.


But she is pretty darn cute, and her nose is smaller than the riendeer's, so I figured what the heck.


So in other news.... today is Troy's birthday. He made it to the 35 year mark. If you don't find some wonder in this feat, you must not know Troy.

Tomorrow is another Christmas social. It'll be the last one here in Nevada. While there are some twinges of sadness that go along with knowing that we'll be leaving yet another set of some really great friends..... It's pretty exciting to think that next year at this time, we'll be on the east coast.

I can't say what the 'grand prize' is yet this year, but I can say that the favors are hand-made candles. I can also say I must have been caught in some post-partum mental breakdown when I thought that making candles as a favor would be a good idea. For the record, I would like everyone to know that Martha Stewart I am not. No, really---- jail jokes aside.... if she REALLY does/did all the crap she promotes in her magazines and on her shows, I have to give her credit.

I suppose it would have been faster or easier if I had a chainsaw or heated knife to cut through the monstrous block of wax, but alas... no such nifty gadgets for me. I was left hacking away with a dull bread knife while Rhena squealed in delight of the sight of her mommy breaking a sweat. But I digress. the candle-making took some effort. Next time I'll just go to K-mart and let Martha earn back some lost time.


Lastly, while I'm out giving credit... I have to hand it to my parents.... they have definitely topped themselves this time. Their Christmas gift to us (the Johnson trio and the Roselle Park gang) is a week-long vacation in Disney World over the Easter Holiday. That's right--- Derek and Dawn, Dara, Delaney and Damian... Me, Troy and Rhena and the folks. let me repeat....

WEEK.

LONG.

VACATION.


IN DISNEY WORLD.


My parents freaking ROCK. March 24th can't get here soon enough.

Add another candle....

So at what point are you considered 'over the hill' ????

yes.... as it stands, dear readers- today.... I am yet another year older. I think I'm in the dead zone, though. Not as in I'm-so-old-I'm-almost-dead, but in the this-really-isn't-a-significant-birthday years.

Not that I think my birthday isn't significant---- on the contrary!!!! My birthday ROCKS!!!! it's just... 32? eh--- BORING! the ability to drive, drink, rent cars..... been there, done that.

so while my NUMBER birthday isn't very exciting, I'd like to focus on the sheer fact that today is the anniversary of MY BIRTH!

I mean, yeah, sure--- other people have their b-days today... whoopdee-doo!

TODAY IS ALL ABOUT ME!!!!!


I'm not looking for gifts on my b-day anymore... I really do have all I could want. But there is something very heartwarming (read : ego-boosting) about having people wish me a happy birthday. Even if they're just saying it to be polite, I'll shamelessly take it as acknowledgement that the world is better off because I'm here.

shee-it... I don't need 'it's a wonderful life' to know that. I know I've impacted people... just as much as other people have impacted MY life. I mean, that's the way it works, right? at least if you have a heartbeat, anyway...


I suppose I should really be giving the credit to my mom. she's the one that did all the work 32 years ago. I *do* give thanks to her... all the time, actually. She and my dad are definitely the root of all my happiness, if you really think about it. And no--- I'm not saying this because I plan on stealing Rhena's thunder on HER b-day....

(but nor do I plan on letting any acknowledgement slip from ME today....)


I'm just saying that if it weren't for my parents, I wouldn't be here, which means I couldn't be happy, which ALSO means who would be complaining to y'all on a regular basis? well--- I bet lots of people would complain, but not like me.

Let's face it... sometimes you read this blog and get happy. WHY you get happy is irrelevant. be it because you're glad you're not going through what I'm going through, or because finally someone else can relate, or just cause I'm cute. (sorry... I just threw that in there...) I know you know what I'm talking about though.

Let's face it... I'm special! I mean, sure, we all are in our own way, but this blog is about me, so.... like I said--- I'm special and it's my b-day, so bring on the wishes!

The producers of this site would like to apologize for the overdose of ego-maniacism displayed in this entry, and would like to ensure the reading public that future entries will return to normal dosages of ego from the resident writer. Thank you for your support.