Jennah said I look spunky. 
It’s more pinkish in person and I realize on some screens my skin looks red (like Ben’s), sorry.
I haven’t dyed my hair in many many years. It’s fun.
Nothing to see here. I have depression, I get depressed, I move past it, wallow in it, put on the happy face, throw myself into something to get distracted. I had a therapist tell me once that my depression is like Eeyore. You know that gloomy bastard, that’s me. I laugh, I love, I am happy, there’s just always the undercurrent of depression that sometimes pops up more fiercely. And it is true, I am a depressing person. I don’t write about it much anymore because I’ve come to censor myself online. The blog started at the suggestion of a therapist way back in 2001 as a place to vent and talk freely. But over the years it’s morphed into a place to record random shit and try not to be too depressing and push people away. I shouldn’t worry about the people, no one is forcing anyone to read and I should just be myself…
Anyway, I am too afraid to die to actually do anything more than cut, punch a wall or cry in a dark room.
Oddly enough the Olympics really helped cheer me up. I really got into watching the competitions and pushing myself to complete knitting projects for the Ravelympics.
What I got done during the Olympics-
Briny Sea Cowl
Shroom hat (which is now my new favorite hat)
Leafy Mitts
Ishbel (still needs blocked)
an overdye I’m calling Sea Glass (horrid pic, hoping for better tomorrow)
The kids also made a King Snowman today (with Daddy’s help)
to tell the truth, I am not happy very much these days
I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
Plath, Tulips
Ben got me this super pretty yarn bowl for Valentine’s Day 
The yarn resting in the bowl is some Rowan Big Wool I used to knit Shroom (from Knitty) as part of Ravelympics. It’s very hard to take a picture of the back of my own head…
Some asshole has gotten a hold of our bank info and been making payments to al jazeera. I’m killing time till I can call my bank and tell them that wasn’t us. *sigh* 10 years at that bank and this is the first problem, so I count us lucky I guess.
Templeton grew bigger and fatter than any rat you ever saw. He was gigantic. He was as big as a young woodchuck.
The old sheep spoke to him about his size one day. “You would live longer,” said the old sheep, “if you ate less.”
“Who wants to live forever?” sneered the rat. “I am naturally a heavy eater and I get untold satisfaction from the pleasures of the feast.”
- Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White
Eli has a best friend… or if you really want to cutify it… a wee little girlfriend. We’ll call her Cagney. 
The other week I had to pick Eli up from school early. When I got there as I was headed to the office to sign him out I saw him walking down the hall holding hands with a little girl. So I signed him out, got his things and walked down to his classroom where he was waiting outside with the little girl and his favorite aide. The aide introduced Cagney and told me how she usually eats lunch with Eli and how she wanted to take care of Eli that day since he had a cold. Eli proceeded to tell me how pretty Cagney was. Come on, aaawwwww, right?
Later that day Eli, Anna and I were driving somewhere and I told Anna that I met Eli’s new friend today. Anna asked him about her and he told Anna, “Cagney is pretty. Cagney has beautiful hair.”
A few days later Ben picked Eli up from school and as they were walking to the car he heard a little girl voice yell out, “Eli! Come give me hugs and kisses, bye!” I thought he just waved to her but Ben told me later that Eli went over, and hugged her and gave her a little peck. Seriously, my cold dead heart would have melted out of my pores at that.
And this morning for some reason the first words out of Eli’s mouth after he woke up were, “Cagney is my good friend.” Then he proceeded to tell me about the PJ party at school Friday and how Cagney had a cool Dora sleeping bag, heh.
I’ve checked the class student list adn she’s not in his class so they must have speech and/or occupational therapy together and/or other activities together. He told me today they play pirate at recess, he couldn’t or wouldn’t elaborate, just said they play pirate. I am glad he has a friend at school.
Oh my god. I do not remember bugging my mom/hanging on my mom/needing my mom as much as my kids bug/hang on/need me! I swear to god, if I get one more Mommy?! Mommy?! Mommy?! Someone is losing a tongue. Of course I don’t remember much of anything before the age of 6, but still, go PLAY ya wankers!
I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.
-Jacob Jankowski, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
