I hate bra shopping. Went to buy one at Wal-Mart, but couldn't find my size. What a mess! Empty boxes, wrong size bras in some boxes, black bras in boxes that were supposed to contain white ones. Sheesh! I'm a 40D, why am I having such a tough time finding yarmulkas to hold up my pudgy gals?

OK, here's a story I didn't tell you. I was too embarrassed, but confession is good for the soul, right? Here goes:

On the plane trip to San Diego, I had a bad case of the farts. Yes, not Dan this time, ME! I usually take the aisle seat in a plane, but somehow, Dan and I ended up with me in the window seat, him in the center, and some unknown tool on the aisle. I need that seat because I am a frequent bathroom visitor. I always need to pee, and I hate having to bother other people. Guess what? I only got to pee once, and in six and a half hours, that isn't enough for me! My bladder was screaming! Not nearly as loudly the four year old sitting in front of me, who hit decibels that would shatter glass--and nearly imploded my eardrums. This kid was traveling with her very pregnant mother, who assured me that her angel NEVER behaved this terribly on plane trips! I watched and listened for six and a half terrible hours as this child smacked her mother's face, screamed, cried and banged her ass against her seat, annoying me to the point that I wanted to punch my fist through my window and send her flying right through it!

Being smooshed in that too-tight seat, having to piss so badly I could taste it, and enduring that devil's-spawn child made that flight nearly unendurable, believe me. I watched the TV in front of me but there really wasn't much on at that too-early hour, and we took off late, too. Bleck.

Anyway, getting back to my gas, I reeked! Although I didn't realize it, my period was on the way, and that can cause excess gas. Since I have no idea when to expect it anymore, and I wasn't feeling crampy or anything, I had no clue, although the incessant gas issuing from my asshole should have been a clue. Poor Dan, he was trapped in his seat, belted in, having to endure the toxic scent of my flatulence. Perhaps that was what enraged the little girl--my gas sent her into a frenzy of misbehavior! I never thought of that! Dan kept shooting me looks of death, shaking his head, and I wondered if the fellow in the aisle seat smelled the odor and thought it was coming from my husband who was obviously having a serious problem. By the way, Dan DID leave one of his famous Splattershits (Patent Pending) in the plane bathroom, and yes, the plane did tilt to one side for one terrifying moment after the flush, but it luckily righted itself.

My gaseous ass continued to spew for the entire plane trip. Poor Dan began to look woozy and the little girl in front of us continued her devil's-spawn behavior, smacking Mom with both hands and yelling. I was waiting for her head to spin around.

However, the difference between Dan and me is that HE's proud of his farts. He enjoys them and wants everyone else to as well. I was mortified every time I had to expel more shitty air into the plane, trying to squelch it, squeezing my cheeks together to try to prevent the stench from being released--to no avail.

I told Brad about my offer to die so he can get the job he wants. Blasted kid doesn't like that trade at all. He wants to get his job, sure, but he wants me to stick around, too. Doesn't he realize that you can't have it all sometimes, and sacrifices must be made?

I love him so much.

May you love yours, too!

Love, Robin

Brad was sick over the weekend, suffering with a low-grade fever, stomach and headache. I'm sure it was because he overworked himself to the max last week, between interviews, tutoring, teaching, and just plain stressing out.

I have a confession to make:

Yesterday, I was crying on the way home from food shopping, beset by my usual round of demons. I realized what was bothering me most was fear that Brad wouldn't secure a teaching job for this coming September (he already got one "Dear Brad" from Glen Cove, the assholes). So I offered a pact to both God and Satan, whoever was most interested: my life for a job in Bellmore-Merrick for Brad. Yes, I'm serious--I would give up my miserable existence if Brad could be awarded the teaching position he most wants. I know, it sounds nuts, and I don't even know if either God or Satan is interested in having my life or soul or whatever, but, as far as I'm concerned, it's no different than if Brad needed a heart transplant--I would give up my life for his, in a split second, without hesitation.

Perhaps I'm being a bit presumptuous, but I don't care. Brad SHOULD get that job where he's been interning for the past year, but there's no guarantee. He's got his second interview this week, but they're interviewing a slew of other teachers, including the three other interns from Adelphi. As luck wouldn't have it, there are only two openings in Bellmore-Merrick, both in Grand Avenue Middle School--where Brad has been interning! He's been killing himself to show them how willing he is to be part of their team, even joining the other teachers for Happy Hour. It seems only right that they give him one of the open positions--but WILL THEY?

On other fronts, Dan took Bugsy and Snaps for a walk yesterday and the former pooch scarfed up something before Dan could stop him. I always scout ahead of the dogs to make sure there's nothing that might entice them to eat anything they shouldn't, especially on garbage days, when other creatures break into plastic bags and drag out food, bones and God-knows-what. Dan was able to snag a piece of it in the pooper scooper and bring it home to me. It looked like a bone, not chicken, but since the Bugster ingested it already, there wasn't much that could be done. I must admit, Dan's inability to steer Bugsy away from this thing didn't please me in the least!

Incidentally, Bugsy vomited this morning. Is this due to what he ate last night? I don't know, but I'm already worried!

Bugsy has learned to climb the carpeted stairs we bought for him and climb up on the bed himself (as long as he's enticed by crunchy bones)! No, he can't climb downstairs, and he's getting plumper and heavier to carry, but back agony is worth it if my sweet, biting pooch can join us in bed every night!

Thursday, after work, I'm going to the Bide-a-Wee to find out when Dan and I will be volunteer to walk dogs there. He can't be there because of work, but I can collect all the necessary info for both of us. It's been quite a while since we've been there for the initial meeting; I wonder if they really need people on weekends? I gather most of their volunteers are retired and able to come during the week.

I still find myself crying a lot, at unexpected moments, stupid moments. I hate it!

Oh, my mammo came out clean, thank God. Now I have to schedule an appointment to have the property down South inspected, on Pap Street. LOL!

I have less than an hour until my workday ends. Then it's home I go! I suspect Brad will have errands for me to run. Yesterday, I went to Wal-Mart to pick up resume paper for him, while Dan ran to the bank to do his banking business. We are GREAT parents, aren't we? Hey, I'm ready to give up my life so he can have a career, and will accept either Heaven or Hell as my permanent afterlife address!

And I'm not kidding.

Love, Robin

My dog appears to be OK. The house wasn't flooded with urine when I returned home, not a drop. After I let the dogs out, I attempted to collect urine in a cup, following Bugsy around and slipping it under his penis whenever he peed, but he knocked the almost-full cup from my hand and I spilled it all. I had made a vet appointment, but canceled it, allowing Dan to go to the gym.

Brad didn't get home until after 10 PM. He worked his internship job at Grand Avenue, tutored 3 kids (and made $160!), performed his demo, a writing assignment and was interviewed at Oceanside High school. He was running from 6:30 AM until he got home, and dubbed it the busiest day of his life. Tonight, he's going to see a play at Grand Avenue in which several of the kids in his classes are starring. How diligent and caring is my son? My God, if they don't give him this job, there is absolutely no justice in this world! All of the interns, four all together, are being interviewed for the two open positions in the Bellmore-Merrick district. The other kids seem sure Brad is IN for one of them, but that isn't stopping Brad from his breakneck interview pace with pretty much any school that wants to interview him.

I'll keep a close watch on Bugsy, of course, and make sure he's OK. I disagree with Dan, who seems sure our pooch was just taking revenge on us for daring to take a vacation and leave him. I'd rather think he had a little cold or other minor illness that caused his temporary loss of bladder control.

I have tax forms to mail in, as well as a thank you note from Brad to those who interviewed him yesterday Wednesday at Oceanside. He's definitely dotting his I's and crossing his T's when it comes to all this stuff! I just hopes all his effort bears fruit in the form of a decent job with the best possible benefits!

Love, Robin

I'm back at my desk, but my heart's at home. Yesterday, Bugsy began to piss all over the house, seemingly without realizing it. I noticed he was drinking an awful lot of water, and seemed to be urinating outside an awful lot. When we got home from the airport, raced home by our diligent Lindy's cab driver by 7 AM (he must have overheard me fretting that I wanted to see Brad before he left for school at 7:15), I immediately walked both dogs, who were overjoyed to see us. Bugsy pooped as soon as we got to our next door neighbor's house, but didn't seem to pee too much. Later, however, he began urinating EVERYWHERE, apparently unbeknownst to him. Does he have a bladder infection? Is he angry at us for leaving and taking revenge this way? All I can tell you is, we had to clean up the floors and carpet in the computer room more than once yesterday when he just let go all over! I'm worried he has diabetes, like the rest of us. When I picked him up in my arms and carried him down this morning, he peed all over the front of my nightgown. What the hell is wrong with him? I considered putting up his crate and shoving him into it, but he would fight so hard. On the other hand, do I want a huge flood of dog urine to clean up when I arrive home today? I think I'm going to have to call a vet when I get home. Brad says he had no accidents all week, and both dogs had to hold it for many hours. Perhaps that caused this problem? I'm worried about my little doggy, very worried! I'm afraid to call home and perhaps startle Bugsy into fear-pissing, but he'll probably do that when he hears me pull up in front of the house this afternoon, anyway, right?

After our red-eye flight home, during which I got about half an hour of sleep, I had hoped for some peace, perhaps a nap, but Bugsy just stayed on the bed, barking at me furiously. Did he need to go out? Was that why he wouldn't let up? I don't know. I'm not sure when this problem actually began.

Dan and I grabbed some GOOD pizza at Giovanni's yesterday afternoon, and it tasted so delicious! California pizza, even if they have the nerve to dub it "NY Pizza," tastes like shit!

Dan cheated at mini golf at Boomer's in San Diego and beat me by three strokes. I beat him by one point in that table game with the puck and hand held pushing things. I won a Stewy stuffed toy for Brad in a giant crane game, a Yankee watch for Ali and a cheap-looking 50 Cent necklace that I call bling and which Dan calls "bleem." I am so good at those games!

It's good to be back, but why must our return be fraught with a stack of bills in the mail, problems with Bugsy, difficulty with Brad's laptop computer, the realization that we were away when Brad was having his interviews with prospective schools and really could have used our support--just EVERYTHING? I felt overwhelmed just thinking about it all, and cried when it was time to go to bed and I knew it was starting all over again.

But I'm OK now. Granted, I was pissed to get my period 26 days after the last one, instead of skipping a couple of months inbetween. Who'd have believed 83 year old Doris would have tampons lying around? She DID! Amazing! Lucky for me, too! But where the hell is my menopause? Not knowing when to expect The Bleed is growing tiresome!

It was very nice getting back and seeing Nancy still here, but it looks like it's only a matter of a short time before she's outta here. And again, I'm torn between being miserable for me for losing yet another person who is so attuned to me and happy for her because she hates it here so much. Sigh.

I dread going home today. Will my living room be flooded with pee? Did Dan and Brad make sure to close off the staircase so Bugsy can't get up there and urinate all over the carpeting? Did they close the door to the computer room and THAT carpeting? Stay tuned for the next episode of the tawdry drama, "My Dog Has No Bladder Control!"

Love, Robin

Yes, hubby clogged my in-laws' toilet! Even 3000 miles away, he is the bane of porcelain everywhere!

We've been having a terrific time, and I'm pleased to say my ever-present depression seems to have lifted somewhat, or at least be on hold. We've been in constant touch with Brad, who had a batch of interviews for jobs with schools yesterday. He sounded chipper about them when he called us yesterday. We were about to board the trolley for Seaport Village, and it was weird knowing it was 10:30 AM in San Diego and 1:30 PM in NY and he'd already completed all his interviews. He said except for a minor gaffe or two, he felt things went well. These are just pre-screening interviews; if they like him, he will be called back to each individual school for another interview, then have a shot at teaching a class under observation. For some odd reason, Oceanside HS wants to do the latter even before interviewing him. Apparently, the resume impressed them enough to skip the interviews, or at least do everything out of order. Fingers are crossed almost hard enough to break my fingers!

Seaport Village was so lovely, although the stores are seriously overpriced. Dan bought lots of spicy stuff at Hot Licks for friends, I got little, expensive items for Sharon and Nancy. A woman with a blind dog read my Tarot cards and predicted all good things for me, but I need to get past my own laziness first. And I wonder what will happen at work if Nancy's husband is transferred and Connie does, indeed, leave my department to go back out on the workroom floor on Tour I. I had no idea she was that miserable, because Tour I is the pits of the pits as far as I'm concerned! She says she hates everyone. That's strong stuff, and I assumes means me, too. I'm sorry she's so unhappy, yet she stole the job from ME eight years ago and now thinks she shouldn't lose those years of seniority from the clerk craft. She really does believe she's some kind of princess, doesn't she? Well, she isn't!!

Doris and Sid, my in-laws, both need hearing aids but refuse to get them. They do enough with doctors. All things considered, I think they're doing pretty well, but they make such a BIG DEAL of everything, I finally understand where my crazy husband gets it, and why he drives me so nuts so much of the time. Why I haven't really GOTTEN it until now, I don't know, but Jeez, what a family!

I am enjoying the warmth and sunshine, but I miss Brad and the dogs something fierce, and while I'm not looking forward to returning to work, I am looking forward to seeing my east coast family.

Hope you are all doing well, feeling well and your Tarot is positive!

Love, Robin