I do hereby recommend that everyone be required to take one really long-ass road trip with one's new spouse within the first few months of getting married. This will be a perfect test of compatibility and tolerance for the long haul (as it were) of the union as a whole, right there in the microcosm where no matter where you go, there are a dozen McDonald's and nothing decent to eat. Otto and I seem to have cleared this hurdle without much trouble, although it was certainly an experience to remember. * * * * * When I commented to Otto that his car was getting really good mileage because I...
I had the cavity the dentist found on Friday filled first thing this morning, because nothing starts the day off better than a cheek full of novocaine. The dentist's office was positively mobbed this morning---I guess lots of people have suffered all weekend and ask to be seen ASAP on Monday---and my teeny little cavity was a low priority. I suspect the dentist knew he'd be running between me and several other patients, because he injected about a gallon of novocaine into my face and then LEFT for half an hour. Laying prone on a dentist chair while you stare at the ceiling and poke your...
I may have sort of kind of forgotten what a colossal pain in the ass it is to move. Perhaps I blocked it out, much like labor. ("See, I have a beautiful child here! I know nothing of this searing pain and ruined anatomy of which you speak!") Like that. The phone has become my constant companion. I need to talk to lots of people. They are not interested in my pool or my gazebo, but they would very much like to make sure that their bills follow me wherever I may go, so we're spending a lot of time making sure that that can happen. Also Otto and I need to talk approximately twenty times a day...
I have very little to report, because I often try to stick to the whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" thing. Oh. You're laughing. Right. Well, there is a small exception to that rule, you know, which is that if you don't have anything nice to say but you DO have something funny to say, then go ahead. In that case, I go ahead. Today I have nothing nice or funny, though I do have 2600 square feet of boat anchor around my neck, so if my posture is a little off, that's why. While chatting with Susan this evening and complaining that I had nothing to blog...
I was paying some bills this weekend and realized that hey, I'm moving in less than a month, and I should probably really stop, I don't know, writing checks on an account I'm going to be closing soon. Duh. Why yes, I HAVE managed to do all of my banking with a local New England bank instead of one of the eleventy national chain banks available in the area, thank you for noticing. Ahem. So this morning, I got the kids off to school and did some work and then set out for the local branch of Big National Bank to open new accounts. Sure, I could've just stayed home and shoved paperclips into my...
We've come to that time of our program where I start to lose my mind. It's not dramatic or particularly concerning, really. It's just that between the kids, selling the house, work, and getting married, my brain is full. People ask me questions and I stare at them blankly. I have a stack of mail I keep stuffing in a box (because the house is being shown, and no one wants a house where there's mail visible!) even though I know there's things in there I should probably be paying attention to, like bills and paychecks. The kicker, of course, is that everyone else retains their regular mental...
Hey, guess what! My house didn't sell this weekend, and today after church we pretty much did... nothing. That leaves slim pickings for posting, really. Let's see. Possible topics for tonight include: 1) Whining about the fact that my house hasn't sold yet; 2) Rambling on and on about the joys of a day at home where I spend the entire day sniping at the children to PICK UP PICK UP and snatching laundry from the dryer and putting it away IMMEDIATELY because the house must be kept clean (see item 1); 3) Pointing out that my acne has apparently not been notified either of the fact that I'm in...
I had to prove that I was legally divorced before I was allowed to obtain a marriage license. If there was such a thing as a bridal license requiring proof of girlyness, the people at town hall would still be pointing and laughing, and I would be all out of luck. Today I grabbed a friend and spend the day pretty much trying to finish up all of the wedding-related things that required tending to. Along the way I learned that I am lacking a basic gene, the one all women are supposed to have, the one that causes a female to care deeply about every aspect of her wedding day. It's not that I...
I cannot stop with the goats. Goats, goats, everywhere. My hair is like a flock of goats, and my children, they are like a herd of goats. I was surveying the state of my house this evening and didn't feel even a little guilty about accusing them of being a herd of goats. Actually, that may be slightly insulting to goats. I'm pretty sure that goats eat EVERYTHING, so if they were TRULY goats, instead of eight empty cups and two pop-tart wrappers and assorted popsicle sticks being strewn across my family room, they would just eat it all and leave the area tidy. That might be good. (But then...
