What I hate about myself....

Self loathing.

Most journals are full of self pity, self loathing, self deprecation... my journal is mostly filled with la di da bullshit that makes people feel warm and fluffy until I come across some crisis or throw some F bombs around.

My journal can stand to have a little self-torture in regards to self-examination about what I hate about the self in question.

A lot of people hate the way they look. Their bodies. Their hair. Their souls. Their hearts. I hate none of that about myself. I'm okay with being fat, but not resigned to it for life. I kind of dislike my skin color, but that's neither here nor there. I have a decent soul, I try my best. But the thing that chaps my britches most about me is the fact I have no memory of where I put things.

This has come up before. I freaked out because I misplaced my keys one day. It made me late for work, and I swore I would never misplace anything again. I've done pretty well. I put my keys on a hook by the front door every time I come in the house. They are always there.

But in this case, I have my keys.

I can't find my damn digital camera.

I've misplaced cameras before. I find them in glove compartments of cars that we are getting ready to donate to charity. I find them under seats in said cars, in diaper bags, in backpacks... Behind piles of books. Half used rolls of film inside... meanwhile I've already gone out and purchased another camera and I feel like a dingus...

But the digital camera -- that's a nice camera. That isn't your 60 dollar dummy self-focus camera. That's a chunk of change with upgraded memory card in it which costs almost what the camera costs, which makes it the most expensive camera I've ever owned.

I had it in my hand on Monday, out on the deck.

I intended to take some pictures of Geoff and Doug doing yard work.

I remember having it in my hand when I went in the basement to move laundry around.

I remember putting it in my front pocket while I carried said laundry around.

I distinctly SEE it in my mind sitting on the table next to the plant I sent Doug for his birthday in January 2000. I don't know if that was before or after I went out on the deck. I have lost the train of presence of camera, and it is missing. Gone. Vanished. And I'm ripping my hair out.

I'm wandering around the house, looking for it. I am stumbling around muttering like Ozzy under my breath, "Sharon, I had the fuckin' camera in my fuckin' hand just yesterday. Where the fuck did it go? Did one of the kids fucking take it? Fuck!"

(aah yes. F bombs uncensored! Long live freedom of inappropriate speech in the a_musings journal!)

Sigh... the really really bad BAD part of this is that tomorrow I was loaning it to Catering Man and his business partner so they could take a shite load of pictures for their website and we could begin to build their photo gallery... showcase their actual food instead of me stealing (er, uh, creatively appropriating) pictures from elsewhere on line. I was supposed to bring it with me to work today, show them how it works. Give them the sweet n'lowdown on how to take nice digipics... and then rock the planet with these pictures.

But no.

I can't friggin find it.

I am so damned frustrated with myself. I'm not mad at my family or the camera... I'm pissed at ME. I've gone MONTHS without misplacing something, due to the constant diligence of making sure I put stuff right where I can see it, and the fact that when I put something down I actually say OUT LOUD to myself "your ____ is on the ____." so I don't forget. Saying it out loud seems to make a world of difference. But now. I didn't say anything to myself when I placed the camera down. I have no idea. No clue. No recollection of where it could be. And I'm pissed.

I feel badly because the Catering Men were counting on me. Sigh. This bites.

Aside from being mad at myself I'm freaking exhausted. I got home at 9 last night. Geoff freaked out when I left and gave Doug an unbelievably hard time. When I'm not here, his name is Hellion. When I walked through the door, he stood with his hands on his hips and said "You're fired. You're out of this family."

Fine. Whatever. I'm fired. Good. Read your own damn bedtime story and change your own damn sheets when you have an accident. I don't friggin care anymore.

(Jessica rehired me by the way. She needed something last night and asked for my help. I told her to do it herself because I was out of the family... so she rehired me, which pissed Geoff off. I love messing with my kids.). Last night I woke up at 4am and went to the bathroom, woke Geoff up so he could do likewise, and then went back to bed. I couldn't fall back asleep. I laid there... laid there... and then at about 5a.m. all the birds in the neighborhood started in like a ton of car alarms going off at once at top volume.

It was that loud and annoying.

I think I fell back asleep around 6. The alarm went off at 8 and I was deep in dream sleep, totally zonked out. Dead. And the alarm goes off. When I wake up at those times, I still think I'm dreaming when I'm in the bathroom and go to use the john. I have to tell myself outloud "you are awake and in the bathroom, you aren't peeing in bed." Do any of you have experiences like that when you're asleep or not quite awake? It is one of my biggest fears -- messing the bed. But I digress.

Today it was back to catering land... where I was most productive. This is what I did:

1. Scallops and bacon, thank you very much. 250 pieces. I kicked their scallopy asses most righteously!

2. made croutons, which I've done in past. They rocked steady.

3. julienne sliced several tons of veggies for Catering Man's special gorgeous Asian spring rolls, rock right the hell on. I used a "mandolin" slicer on the zucchini and summer squash, and did the carrots and celery on the big slicer to get them small, then cut them tiny. I'm not good at julienne slicing, this was my first experience, and I think I did okay. I'm sure Catering Man himself will pick through the slices and make smaller that which stands to damage the fragile skin of the spring rolls, and will curse the day I was born the whole time, but heck... I think I did a good job.

4. Lemon Thyme Mayonnaise. Yup. I made lemon thyme mayonnaise. It kicked ASS. I'm so gonna whip us up some here some day. Wicked good on roast beef and on chicken breast. MMMMMMMMM mmmmmmmm yeah.

I worked from 9 to 3:30. I'm getting better at being on my feet. Yesterday was a 3 hour day, and I felt fine by the time I got home. Today I took some ibuprofen at lunch, and feel superb right now. Then, I came home and resumed the search for the camera, and resumed my self hatred.

I guess I'm fully employed here now because I have to figure out what to do for dinner. Doug has a hella bad cold, and Sweet Lady Benadryl took his soul from him this afternoon once I got home. He slept the sleep of the ill for three hours. I searched for camera, worked on webpages. Geoff has been in stunningly good form all afternoon. I let him do dishes... big mistake. He said he wants to help me around the house. His definition of helping was putting 1/2 a bottle of super concentrated dish soap onto a sponge with some Windex and wiping everything in the kitchen. So I had that to clean. Huzzah.

Well. I need to go keep an eye on him. He's in the yard, and it has finally cooled off outside. Record high temperatures here today... Catering Man's kitchen was hella hot, and when I got home it was 96 in my livingroom. No fans have been pulled out yet. The temperature outside on the deck was 98, but that is warped when the sun hits it after 3pm.

Now it is 68 degrees outside... and 80 in the living room. It's getting better every minute.

Alright. Lift a prayer or send some mojo for me to find the camera. And I'll stop hating myself for my error and turn it over to God and let him drive the search... hopefully it will turn up. And I feel a cool breeze on the deck calling me. With a beer. Hella good.

Actually, lift prayers of thanks. Since typing that, Jessica came in and asked me what I was doing. I told her... and she noticed on the screen that I couldn't find my camera. She helped me retrace the steps (which I've done above) and then said that she'd help me look.

The camera was in Geoff's room. He must have "creatively appropriated" it. I promised her if she found it I'd get pizza. Better make that call... and give proper thanks to the Holy Spirit for guiding my very bright daughter right where she was needed.

See what happens when you just give up and turn it over? Rock on Faith.

She is so smart. She is so smart. S-M-R-T. S-M-A-R-T!

He is so evil. He is so evil. E-V-L. E-V-I-L. Kidding.