Added to the list: Build an ark
Hello! We are in Georgia. Drowning.
Hey, kids! This is where we’re going to live! Isn’t it GREAT? Over here we have… mud. And over there… more mud. Also, there is lots of rain, and the sky is a gorgeous shade of gray. ARE YOU EXCITED?
Oh, the weather will let up in a day or two. It’s just that we got in late last night and had to get up early today and have been running around and I JUST NOW had a minute to stop and go to the bathroom, whereupon I discovered that my hair was four times its normal size. But at least I’d been wandering around like that all day. read more…
Just a few things I’d forgotten
I thought I had it all figured out, today: Chickadee was invited over to a friend’s house for “as long as she likes,” and I had made plans to bring a friend over here for Monkey. My day would be busy, but manageable. With the children occupied I’d be free to finish up getting ready for our trip, doing my work, and cleaning the house.
HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
There were too many things crowding my brain. I made a rookie mistake, thinking this was going to make it all work out okay. read more…
All the important things
I go into this sort of preparing-for-my-death mode before I take a trip. Normal people, they’re about to go somewhere, they think, “Hmmmm. I should finish packing.” (Or if they’re Otto, they’ll be on the phone with you at 11 at night when they’re leaving the next morning at dawn and saying “I should start packing.”)
Me, I’m going somewhere, I need to Get My Affairs In Order. Because you just never know. I need to have everything I’d need so that if I’m stranded somewhere en route I have clean underwear and reading material and perhaps q-tips. I need to have the house clean because if the plane crashes I don’t want people thinking “Such a tragedy, but would it have killed her to scrape the toothpaste out of the sink?” read more…
An open letter to the Barbas
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Barba:
You must’ve been so very proud when your daughter Antonella was selected to be on season 6 of American Sellout Idol. Let’s face it; she’s beautiful, she’s a pretty good singer, and now all the eyes of America are on her. How could you help but feel anything but pride?
Even when she made the incredibly vacuous comment, upon hearing that she’d made the latest cut, that it was because “God loves good people” (that’s funny, I didn’t notice her taking a break to serve some Meals on Wheels, but maybe that part ended up on the cutting room floor), I’m sure you stood right behind her, tearfully telling anyone who would listen, “That’s my girl!”
Are you claiming her quite so proudly, now? read more…
If at first you don’t succeed, eBay, eBay again
I am going to live. Just thought you’d like to know. I may not be eating Chinese food again any time soon, though.
So, remember how I bought Chickadee a dress for the wedding? I bought it on eBay, and it’s been a while since I used eBay, see, so I’d forgotten how to speak the language.
The picture was lovely (if a tad blurry). It was advertised as being silk, and in pristine, perfect condition. I thought I’d gotten a great deal. read more…
Last night’s should’ve-been cookie
“Do not eat copious amounts of Chinese food from unknown hole-in-the-wall restaurant.”
Can I fix anyone a cup of tea with a shot of Pepto?
I had almost a day to enjoy it
Yesterday I noticed that my tax refund had been deposited into my checking account. I made a mental note to think some more about where that money needed to go; would I have enough to maybe buy something not strictly necessary? Would I need to set it all aside for bills and the move?
Well, I have been checking periodically on my leaky pipe in the basement because it’s only BARELY leaking, you understand, but I figure it warrants watching. As I opened the basement door this morning, I chuckled to myself, thinking how ironic it would be if I found the leak had worsened and needed immediate attention.
Actually, the spot on the floor I’ve been watching was bone dry. I heaved a sigh of relief.
And then I turned to head back up the stairs and found myself facing my (recently repaired) boiler, which was sitting in a large puddle. And spewing water from two different locations.
But at least this happened after a really rotten morning. And the afternoon wasn’t much of an improvement.
And the repairman called me HONEY. Not as in, “Honey you are so adorable I cannot help using an endearment on you,” but as in, “Honey you are so stupid I am wondering how it is possible that you remember to breathe.”
And I gave up chocolate for Lent.
Kill me.
Now he’s 2 for 2
I think it would be interesting to sit down and write out ALL of my fears about remarrying. And I will do exactly that, just as soon as I have a full year of nothing else to do, pinky swear! But in the meantime, I try to keep the neurotic angsting to a minimum.
Fortunately, I have two children with endless problems here to keep me focused on ACTUAL crises instead of the various ones I like to imagine.
One of the things Otto and I are doing is a series of counseling sessions with my pastor. It’s based on a profile we both filled out which was, admittedly, rather hokey. “I think my spouse and I should share every waking moment or it means we aren’t really in love! Strongly agree, agree, not sure, disagree, strongly disagree, or how much did we pay to take this test again?” read more…
The next generation of ‘fros
Apparently when I was a toddler, I took to ripping out my hair by the handsful. My mother recounts with sadness the story of taking me in to have my beautiful curls (what was left of them, anyway) cut off so that my hair would be too short to grab and yank.
In kindergarten I rode the bus with a group of older girls who tormented me every single day with the assertion that I was surely a boy, because no girl would have hair so short.
Thus began The Hair Wars between my mother and me. I had certain ideas about the way I wanted to wear my hair (long), and she had certain OTHER ideas about my hair (it should be short), and we are both, ah, well, perhaps just the teensiest bit willful. You can imagine how it went for the next twelve years or so. read more…
Tip of the turmoil
I thought I’d take the weekend to get a handle on the fifty thousand aspects of my life which are slowly spinning out of my grasp, and then by tonight I’d be feeling so much more in control of everything.
HAHAHAHA!
(Also, a blind man walks into a bar. He says, “Ouch!”)
Anyway, I stepped away from the computer for two whole days, and my life is still… well… whatever it is. So apparently I cannot blame any of my current issues on blogging. Which is too bad, because 1) that would be easy to fix and 2) it’s always entertaining to read someone blogging about blogging, or, alternatively, reading the phone book. read more…