1. We were working on getting to Atlanta last Thursday and by the time we got to the hotel and hit the ground, we were running full-steam. I will be updating today and again this Thursday.
2. We went to Atlanta on a marriage and family retreat with other members of the battalion. The retreat was a great chance for us to get a quick vacation in before school and football and Travis' new baby Soldiers really got into their cycle. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we had a great time. We got to the hotel (which was great, by the way), checked in, had dinner and then we had a session for the couples. Friday before 6:30 was free time for the families. Most of them went to Six Flags (as we did). We got back, cleaned up, had dinner and then another session. Saturday we had sessions until 2:45, then we took the kids to the weenie mall by the hotel, came back and then we had date night. We got back on the bus Sunday around 11 and got home about 4 yesterday.
3. Travis seemed to think after our first two sessions of the retreat that it was geared more toward newer couples and couples who have had problems in the past. By the time Saturday was over, I think he changed his mind a little. We both agree that we took a lot away from the retreat. Chaplain Josh did a fabulous job, as did his wife, Katie, who helped him teach a couple of the sessions. Thanks for all your hard work!
4. The retreat was sponsored by the Chaplains' program. Everyone that signed up knows what military Chaplains "do." Everyone that signed up knows that Chaplains are ordained ministers. Why then, were they so mad when the Chaplain brought a tiny bit of God into the sessions. He actually made an effort to keep the teaching as neutral as he could and he told us he was going to shy away from forcing the religious side of things out of respect for those who do not practice religion. Yes, he did make some references, but he truly made an effort to make our classes as benign as he was able.
5. I think I may have the dining room ready for use either tomorrow or Wednesday. When we moved in, the movers needed a room to put the things which didn't have a "room" in which to belong since we down-sized so much. So, the dining room became a dumping ground for our orphaned crap. Orphaned crap is really hard to deal with. The treadmill is in our bedroom and it is the home for the stuff that used to live in the floor-to-ceiling shelving in our master bedroom in Texas. They are all things which hold huge importance to us (kids' trophies, yearbooks, the vases Travis got me in Korea, Travis' father's flag from his casket, toys my grandfather made and stuff like that). I have no Earthly idea where I am going to fit it all, but I will work something out.
6. I think Nolan's first football practice went pretty well. It killed me to not stay, but I left. I severed the umbilical cord. Then I got lost in the Shandon area. I want to live in Shandon. Had I stayed, I would have been among about two dozen parents to remain on-campus and watch their kids. I think Nolan needed me to go. He also didn't know that I got back half an hour before practice was over so I parked (and he didn't see me) and watched from the truck. He did pretty well. Thanks to his previous football coaches and Coach Avery from wrestling at Fort Bliss, as well as the Dad-man for his conditioning. He is not the biggest kid on the field for the first time in a long time. He is not the slowest and his skill level is pretty much spot-on. He used his hustle and I am proud of him.
7. Shandon rocks. If our stupid house in Texas would sell, we would SO live in Shandon. Travis and I agreed over the weekend that we don't live in the ghetto. Our complex deserves two words. Ghet Toh.
8. I have laughed more belly-laughs in the last week than I have in a super-long time. My Travis is really funny.
9. We might be making a quick trip to Charleston over the weekend if we get the time and a chance to escape. I am excited. We are going to take the little pups, so we can't do anything major, but we are planning to use the trip as a recon mission for a future trip.
10. I think I might like to go to Fayetteville this weekend to visit the brother in-law and his family soon. I haven't seen him or his branch of the fam since 1995. Nolan has never met any of them. Amanda doesn't remember them.
11. I am so excited school starts a week from today. You really have no idea.
12. I am thinking about looking for a job once the house is completely unpacked. I am not sure yet, still thinking, but I wont be taking anything that requires me to be out of the house on weekends or when Travis or the kids are home. They are my first priority.
13. I still have crappy phone service on my cell at the apartment. This morning I was talking to my mother. In our 45 minute conversation, we were disconnected six times. Yes, six. I don't want to get a phone line until we are ready to get our internet connection up. We aren't ready for the internet connection, so we deal with crappy cell phone service. Please be patient. Plus, I don't really have the extra time to talk right now, until I am done with the house and the kids are in school.Love you guys!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Truck Crew Woo-Hoo!
I'm sitting in one of my collapsable chairs I use for the kids' sporting events. Man, have these things seen some miles. The truck crew guys asked three times if they were going on the truck. I had to fight the urge to pierce their forearms with plastic forks at the thought of them taking my chairs. Without them, it is Floor City and that just wont work for me.
Please remember that I am an Army move virgin and am entitled to my amazement at all I've witnessed today. I will NEVER do a move again on our own, unless it is the retirement move and we stand to make some serious dollarage off of it. Otherwise, heck no.
Monday was day one of the packing. Two guys came and worked. The did the family room, dining room, kitchen and part of the laundry/storage room. They were not prepared for the wealth of useless crap we have. They just had no idea it was possible for one woman to have nine wardrobe boxes. For herself. I think they know now. They were also amazed at the kitchen-ware. I love to cook, I love to try new cooking techniques and we love to entertain. What better way to open our hearts to people than to open our home to them and feed them? So, they came, they packed, we kicked their... Oh, too easy.
Monday, I was so tired from not having slept that I actually fell asleep on the couch for about ten minutes. I know we aren't supposed to do that, but I did that. I was so honkin' tired. After I woke up I sat. That's all. I just sat. When I was done sitting, I sat a little more. Then Kelly and Big Tommy came by to chat and give me instructions for their house and bird. Then they left. And I sat. Glorious indeed, sitting.
Tuesday, I was slightly less tired, but still reasonably so. I slept on the couch because my bed still had Mount Crap-amonjaro on top of it and because I was afraid if I slept in my bed I would sleep right through my alarm.
The same two guys showed up but they brought a friend with them. They must not have liked him very much because they made him do our bedroom all by himself. The only times I saw him were coming in first thing in the morning, leaving for their lunch break, coming back in and leaving at the end of the day. He must have a Master of Crappology degree. I didn't think they were ever-EVER-going to get done packing. And then, I blinked and they were finished. Amazing.
I had enough energy yesterday to not crash during the packing. But, I had yet to surf my couch enough. So, I sat. I played on the computer. I played Connect Four on the little hand-held game thing. I watched General Hospital from start to finish (way to go Spinnelli!). I wrote a blog. Then, I sat. I may never do another thing again. It is so nice to sit.
After the packers finished and left, we sat for a while and rested from our exhausting day, then I ran an errand and grabbed some turkey from the freezer and went to the pantry for the pasta and canned tomatoes. Woops! They were gone. I forgot, packers pack. They pack almost everything. Thankfully Kelly had told me that not only was I entitled to use her kitchen and her pots and pans to cook our dinners, she gave me permission to access her well-stocked pantry. Yay for Kelly! So, we got to their house, the kids got in the pool and I got to cooking. Then we sat and ate. Then we sat.
I slept on the couch again last night for fear I wouldn't wake up with my alarm. I went to get the clock to set it in the family room so I would be sure to wake up in time because they told me the truck crew would be here earlier than the packers. They were. I was on time, but not because I had my alarm clock. I forgot to snag it before the packers could get to it and it got packed. Somehow, I woke up ten minutes before my cell phone alarm was set to ring. That's amazing since I have been known to sleep through three alarms at a time. I have no idea how. I just know that it happens. And, I used to get up at 3am to go to work. And I could get up then. And I got up this morning.
The truck crew got here and got their hustle on. Llet me tell you, they are fast and efficient. My 2390 square feet of crap hardly takes up any of the trailer. Seriously, I am in shock. Mine is the first of three loads going on this truck. The other two are pickups in south Texas heading for Florida. I am the last drop. So, that means no warehousing (applause). They are trying to work out their route to have our delivery to us as soon as possible, and I am not pushing. I will let them tell me when they will be there with our stuff. They are really doing a good job. They were exceptionally pleased to find out that we are in a ground-floor apartment and that we will have a sliding glass door. We had some minor issues getting my couch out of the house because it is, apparently, huger than huge.
At about 12:45 I looked at the clock and thought to myself I should hurry inside instead of lounging in my chair in the shade in the driveway so I could catch today's episode of General Hospital. So, at five 'til, I did. I was crushed to see that the TV (which I watched them wrap, pack and load onto the truck) was gone. Dang. No General Hospital this afternoon.
They may take my alarm clock. They may take my TV. They may try to take my collapsable chairs. But, they will NEVER take my laptop.
Please remember that I am an Army move virgin and am entitled to my amazement at all I've witnessed today. I will NEVER do a move again on our own, unless it is the retirement move and we stand to make some serious dollarage off of it. Otherwise, heck no.
Monday was day one of the packing. Two guys came and worked. The did the family room, dining room, kitchen and part of the laundry/storage room. They were not prepared for the wealth of useless crap we have. They just had no idea it was possible for one woman to have nine wardrobe boxes. For herself. I think they know now. They were also amazed at the kitchen-ware. I love to cook, I love to try new cooking techniques and we love to entertain. What better way to open our hearts to people than to open our home to them and feed them? So, they came, they packed, we kicked their... Oh, too easy.
Monday, I was so tired from not having slept that I actually fell asleep on the couch for about ten minutes. I know we aren't supposed to do that, but I did that. I was so honkin' tired. After I woke up I sat. That's all. I just sat. When I was done sitting, I sat a little more. Then Kelly and Big Tommy came by to chat and give me instructions for their house and bird. Then they left. And I sat. Glorious indeed, sitting.
Tuesday, I was slightly less tired, but still reasonably so. I slept on the couch because my bed still had Mount Crap-amonjaro on top of it and because I was afraid if I slept in my bed I would sleep right through my alarm.
The same two guys showed up but they brought a friend with them. They must not have liked him very much because they made him do our bedroom all by himself. The only times I saw him were coming in first thing in the morning, leaving for their lunch break, coming back in and leaving at the end of the day. He must have a Master of Crappology degree. I didn't think they were ever-EVER-going to get done packing. And then, I blinked and they were finished. Amazing.
I had enough energy yesterday to not crash during the packing. But, I had yet to surf my couch enough. So, I sat. I played on the computer. I played Connect Four on the little hand-held game thing. I watched General Hospital from start to finish (way to go Spinnelli!). I wrote a blog. Then, I sat. I may never do another thing again. It is so nice to sit.
After the packers finished and left, we sat for a while and rested from our exhausting day, then I ran an errand and grabbed some turkey from the freezer and went to the pantry for the pasta and canned tomatoes. Woops! They were gone. I forgot, packers pack. They pack almost everything. Thankfully Kelly had told me that not only was I entitled to use her kitchen and her pots and pans to cook our dinners, she gave me permission to access her well-stocked pantry. Yay for Kelly! So, we got to their house, the kids got in the pool and I got to cooking. Then we sat and ate. Then we sat.
I slept on the couch again last night for fear I wouldn't wake up with my alarm. I went to get the clock to set it in the family room so I would be sure to wake up in time because they told me the truck crew would be here earlier than the packers. They were. I was on time, but not because I had my alarm clock. I forgot to snag it before the packers could get to it and it got packed. Somehow, I woke up ten minutes before my cell phone alarm was set to ring. That's amazing since I have been known to sleep through three alarms at a time. I have no idea how. I just know that it happens. And, I used to get up at 3am to go to work. And I could get up then. And I got up this morning.
The truck crew got here and got their hustle on. Llet me tell you, they are fast and efficient. My 2390 square feet of crap hardly takes up any of the trailer. Seriously, I am in shock. Mine is the first of three loads going on this truck. The other two are pickups in south Texas heading for Florida. I am the last drop. So, that means no warehousing (applause). They are trying to work out their route to have our delivery to us as soon as possible, and I am not pushing. I will let them tell me when they will be there with our stuff. They are really doing a good job. They were exceptionally pleased to find out that we are in a ground-floor apartment and that we will have a sliding glass door. We had some minor issues getting my couch out of the house because it is, apparently, huger than huge.
At about 12:45 I looked at the clock and thought to myself I should hurry inside instead of lounging in my chair in the shade in the driveway so I could catch today's episode of General Hospital. So, at five 'til, I did. I was crushed to see that the TV (which I watched them wrap, pack and load onto the truck) was gone. Dang. No General Hospital this afternoon.
They may take my alarm clock. They may take my TV. They may try to take my collapsable chairs. But, they will NEVER take my laptop.
155
There are about 155 boxes of stuff in our house. Our furniture is here and we can access some of it, some we can’t. The floors look awful from the trash, but what’s the point in picking it up since tomorrow the carpet will be trampled on all over again? The curtains are down, cupboards are bare and the batteries from our stuff are out and all over the place. This is really about to happen. The truck will be here tomorrow to load and drive out.
Tonight we went to the Oakleys to care for their bird and so I could let the kids swim, hoping they would wear themselves out a little and go to bed without much fuss. The Oakleys came home Sunday from their cross/cross country trip (which took them from here to Alabama to Florida to Alabama to Utah and back here), only to get the news of a death in the family as they were coming back from Utah. They got their leave approved and went back to Alabama for the services. They left the two older boys in the care of another friend so they could practice for football and track. They stopped by while we were there and I think tonight was the last time we would see them before we pull out Friday. I won’t see Kelly (their mother) again before we go.
I also got a call from K-Po checking in on us. She told me that every day she gets a little sadder at the thought of our leaving. Kori and I have been friends for six/seven-ish years. Most of her good friends have also left Fort Bliss over the last year or so, so this move is impacting her doubly hard. I’ve known them since their youngest was just a few months old, pretty much all his life.
Then there are my friends from radio- Mr. Randy and Patty. They are the two I have kept tabs on and kept in-touch with (when I’ve been on the ball). I am pretty sure I wont be able to visit with them before we go. But, I love them anyway.
I may never do another St. Jude Radio-thon again. Since the first year I worked at KHEY I worked on the RT and have loved every single minute of it. I love going back to the station and helping them raise money for the best charity in the world. I believe in sinking my heart into this organization because I have seen for myself the miracles they work every day. The kids melt my heart and the mothers and fathers convince me (without even trying) that pieces of heaven are truly here on Earth.
I got fat here, had a baby here, got not fat here, put my husband on planes bound for places I will never visit while uncertain of what the future would bring us, got cancer and got well again, all here. In fourteen years, the majority of my life’s milestones have taken place here, in El Paso. It has been my home but it hasn’t felt that way since Travis left for Fort Jackson.
Even with all that and so much more I wont have the time to talk about, I can’t be sad at leaving. I will truly miss my good friends and you have no idea how much anxiety I have over leaving my doctors, but I feel light and liberated and energized. I am sure there will be some tears flowing somewhere along Interstates 10 and 20, but in every sense of the phrase, the time is indeed now.
I am one of the lucky ones. I married a man who is best described as the total package. He is hot. He is panty-evaporation hot. He is strong and confident. He is loving. He is a great father. He is an achiever. He knows how to love me. And, he loves me well.
How can joining him not outweigh all the sad things about leaving? I am not trying to slight anyone; quite the contrary. I actually am feeling a little guilty that I am so elated to leave. I’ll be rejoining my life already in progress.
But, I just want you all to know how much you do mean to me. Pieces of you have helped form me into who I am. You have encouraged me, helped me hold it together, helped me grow and heal and I know that it will be a very long time before I see some of you again. And 155 boxes cannot contain my overflowing heart.
Tonight we went to the Oakleys to care for their bird and so I could let the kids swim, hoping they would wear themselves out a little and go to bed without much fuss. The Oakleys came home Sunday from their cross/cross country trip (which took them from here to Alabama to Florida to Alabama to Utah and back here), only to get the news of a death in the family as they were coming back from Utah. They got their leave approved and went back to Alabama for the services. They left the two older boys in the care of another friend so they could practice for football and track. They stopped by while we were there and I think tonight was the last time we would see them before we pull out Friday. I won’t see Kelly (their mother) again before we go.
I also got a call from K-Po checking in on us. She told me that every day she gets a little sadder at the thought of our leaving. Kori and I have been friends for six/seven-ish years. Most of her good friends have also left Fort Bliss over the last year or so, so this move is impacting her doubly hard. I’ve known them since their youngest was just a few months old, pretty much all his life.
Then there are my friends from radio- Mr. Randy and Patty. They are the two I have kept tabs on and kept in-touch with (when I’ve been on the ball). I am pretty sure I wont be able to visit with them before we go. But, I love them anyway.
I may never do another St. Jude Radio-thon again. Since the first year I worked at KHEY I worked on the RT and have loved every single minute of it. I love going back to the station and helping them raise money for the best charity in the world. I believe in sinking my heart into this organization because I have seen for myself the miracles they work every day. The kids melt my heart and the mothers and fathers convince me (without even trying) that pieces of heaven are truly here on Earth.
I got fat here, had a baby here, got not fat here, put my husband on planes bound for places I will never visit while uncertain of what the future would bring us, got cancer and got well again, all here. In fourteen years, the majority of my life’s milestones have taken place here, in El Paso. It has been my home but it hasn’t felt that way since Travis left for Fort Jackson.
Even with all that and so much more I wont have the time to talk about, I can’t be sad at leaving. I will truly miss my good friends and you have no idea how much anxiety I have over leaving my doctors, but I feel light and liberated and energized. I am sure there will be some tears flowing somewhere along Interstates 10 and 20, but in every sense of the phrase, the time is indeed now.
I am one of the lucky ones. I married a man who is best described as the total package. He is hot. He is panty-evaporation hot. He is strong and confident. He is loving. He is a great father. He is an achiever. He knows how to love me. And, he loves me well.
How can joining him not outweigh all the sad things about leaving? I am not trying to slight anyone; quite the contrary. I actually am feeling a little guilty that I am so elated to leave. I’ll be rejoining my life already in progress.
But, I just want you all to know how much you do mean to me. Pieces of you have helped form me into who I am. You have encouraged me, helped me hold it together, helped me grow and heal and I know that it will be a very long time before I see some of you again. And 155 boxes cannot contain my overflowing heart.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Mud Flaps
Walking about this fashion season I’ve noticed a new trend. Well, hardly new, but coming on strong with a renewed sense of entitlement. This leads me to today’s topic of discussion- shorty shorts. And shorty-shorts aren’t really the problem. The real source of my agony are the frequent, on-going, never-ending, constant display of mud flaps.
What are mud flaps, you ask? Mud flaps are the low cheek. The butt stuff that hangs out the bottom of shorty shorts on those who should not be wearing shorty shorts. Seriously, another two or three inches of fabric and no one would know if you have mud flaps or not. Ahh. Mud flaps.
Over the last few years I have mentioned on many occasions how the season’s current trends (any season) are showcasing the worst in people. Some you may remember- tiny t-shirts, nobras, nipple-rama, tramp-stamps, Asian-inspired tattoos (not everyone has the sign for “eternal love” and “tranquility”- some smart alec tattooist has, I am sure, taken creative license and made them read things like “likes it rough” and “syphilis carrier”), low-rise jeans, big girls in low-rise jeans, teensy panty pantylines, pantylines overall, sausage panties, camel toes, showing bra straps under spaghetti straps, wearing dirty nasty horse harness bras under ball gowns (even strapless ones), skin belts (also known as muffin-tops, mushroom tops, hangovers, foldovers and gut waterfalls). This one has me particularly perturbed.
What, you may ask is the real problem with shorty shorts/mud flaps? Duh, I am sick of seeing them. It is an important key to all of this to recall that I don’t care who you are and what you look like, I don’t want to see you naked. I don’t want to see any part of you that I don’t ask to see. I don’t even really like going to the pool because swimsuits are one step closer to naked. No, not a prude, not having anything to do with faith or religion- just don’t wanna see your twins, your booty or your crack.
Why would any woman seek out shorts which are so short that when worn, they allow your inner thigh thing (which most of us do acquire after a few years of good livin’ or popping out a couple o’ babies, and is not the mud flaps to which I refer, but are also deserving of an honorable mention) to wave like Old Glory right there between your legs? Maybe women don’t know. Maybe we, as a society of women who love ourselves, should start telling each other, in a loving way, when our asses are making a cameo appearance? Maybe we shouldn’t take it to heart when someone tells us we look stupid?
When one wears shorty shorts in public, it always piques my interest. They do realize, these women, that should they need to sit, while wearing shorty shorts in public, their fannies will be dangerously close to touching the dangerous regions of someone else who sat there before them who was also wearing shorty shorts? We live in the desert. Desert=sweaty. Mmmm, sweaty butts. Sounds good, don’t it? Yeah, I’ll have a Crispy Ranch Salad with croutons, a small fries and a side order of Swamp Ass. Sign me up.
Yeah, I get that it is hard to look at our backsides in the mirror, but seriously? Really? That is the best looking thing you could put on today? Ick. What about the hand test? Reach back there and feel the horror for yourself, for goodness sakes.
There are people of all shapes and sizes who can get away with shorty shorts. Honestly, there’s some bigguns out there who can wear shorty shorts and look great and more power to them. Me, not one of those girls. And I appreciate that and I know it and I would never inflict that type of discomfort on the people around me. So, it isn’t really a size issue (although it could be). In fact, there’s a way healthy dose of skinny chicks out there who are wearing the shorty shorts whose mud flaps are incredibly offensive. In fact, many a deflated mud flap has often made me nauseated. And, what are these mud flaps, anatomically speaking? Are they the actual butt cheeks or are they like an appendage? Are they a residual cheek? A secondary growth? These are the questions we will ponder into eternity.
My daughter has two pairs of shorty shorts she inherited (because I wont buy them). They are borderline shorty shorts. They are just long enough that I don’t want to puke when I see them on her, but they teeter on the edge of Pepto. I allow it as long as I don’t see the perpetual creepage, but bleah. Grody. My neice, gorgeous Barbie-esque statue of smoldering hotness wears them and looks great, but the vast majority of us don't be lookin' like her. Tuck 'em in, ladies. Tuck. Them. In.
So, what’s a girl like me to do? I guess I’ll keep blogging about them. I’ll keep trying to avert my eyes when I am able. I will, inside my head, encourage these women to tuck their butt cheeks inside their panties. I will pray for new fashion trends when I pray for world peace and to win the Publishers’ Clearing House Grand Prize. Maybe one day the shorty short will be a thing of the past.
Until then, I’ll just keep watching for tattoos of Yosemite Sam and the phrase “Back Off.”
What are mud flaps, you ask? Mud flaps are the low cheek. The butt stuff that hangs out the bottom of shorty shorts on those who should not be wearing shorty shorts. Seriously, another two or three inches of fabric and no one would know if you have mud flaps or not. Ahh. Mud flaps.
Over the last few years I have mentioned on many occasions how the season’s current trends (any season) are showcasing the worst in people. Some you may remember- tiny t-shirts, nobras, nipple-rama, tramp-stamps, Asian-inspired tattoos (not everyone has the sign for “eternal love” and “tranquility”- some smart alec tattooist has, I am sure, taken creative license and made them read things like “likes it rough” and “syphilis carrier”), low-rise jeans, big girls in low-rise jeans, teensy panty pantylines, pantylines overall, sausage panties, camel toes, showing bra straps under spaghetti straps, wearing dirty nasty horse harness bras under ball gowns (even strapless ones), skin belts (also known as muffin-tops, mushroom tops, hangovers, foldovers and gut waterfalls). This one has me particularly perturbed.
What, you may ask is the real problem with shorty shorts/mud flaps? Duh, I am sick of seeing them. It is an important key to all of this to recall that I don’t care who you are and what you look like, I don’t want to see you naked. I don’t want to see any part of you that I don’t ask to see. I don’t even really like going to the pool because swimsuits are one step closer to naked. No, not a prude, not having anything to do with faith or religion- just don’t wanna see your twins, your booty or your crack.
Why would any woman seek out shorts which are so short that when worn, they allow your inner thigh thing (which most of us do acquire after a few years of good livin’ or popping out a couple o’ babies, and is not the mud flaps to which I refer, but are also deserving of an honorable mention) to wave like Old Glory right there between your legs? Maybe women don’t know. Maybe we, as a society of women who love ourselves, should start telling each other, in a loving way, when our asses are making a cameo appearance? Maybe we shouldn’t take it to heart when someone tells us we look stupid?
When one wears shorty shorts in public, it always piques my interest. They do realize, these women, that should they need to sit, while wearing shorty shorts in public, their fannies will be dangerously close to touching the dangerous regions of someone else who sat there before them who was also wearing shorty shorts? We live in the desert. Desert=sweaty. Mmmm, sweaty butts. Sounds good, don’t it? Yeah, I’ll have a Crispy Ranch Salad with croutons, a small fries and a side order of Swamp Ass. Sign me up.
Yeah, I get that it is hard to look at our backsides in the mirror, but seriously? Really? That is the best looking thing you could put on today? Ick. What about the hand test? Reach back there and feel the horror for yourself, for goodness sakes.
There are people of all shapes and sizes who can get away with shorty shorts. Honestly, there’s some bigguns out there who can wear shorty shorts and look great and more power to them. Me, not one of those girls. And I appreciate that and I know it and I would never inflict that type of discomfort on the people around me. So, it isn’t really a size issue (although it could be). In fact, there’s a way healthy dose of skinny chicks out there who are wearing the shorty shorts whose mud flaps are incredibly offensive. In fact, many a deflated mud flap has often made me nauseated. And, what are these mud flaps, anatomically speaking? Are they the actual butt cheeks or are they like an appendage? Are they a residual cheek? A secondary growth? These are the questions we will ponder into eternity.
My daughter has two pairs of shorty shorts she inherited (because I wont buy them). They are borderline shorty shorts. They are just long enough that I don’t want to puke when I see them on her, but they teeter on the edge of Pepto. I allow it as long as I don’t see the perpetual creepage, but bleah. Grody. My neice, gorgeous Barbie-esque statue of smoldering hotness wears them and looks great, but the vast majority of us don't be lookin' like her. Tuck 'em in, ladies. Tuck. Them. In.
So, what’s a girl like me to do? I guess I’ll keep blogging about them. I’ll keep trying to avert my eyes when I am able. I will, inside my head, encourage these women to tuck their butt cheeks inside their panties. I will pray for new fashion trends when I pray for world peace and to win the Publishers’ Clearing House Grand Prize. Maybe one day the shorty short will be a thing of the past.
Until then, I’ll just keep watching for tattoos of Yosemite Sam and the phrase “Back Off.”
Listing
I am out of my comfort zone, but somehow relaxed and content at all that is happening around me. We have today and tomorrow and cleaning on Thursday and then we go. In honor of our new home, I wish to make a list. Remember, making lists makes me happy. I figure I can top-off my happy tank now and I'll just be bursting with happiness.
THINGS I ALREADY LOVE ABOUT SOUTH CAROLINA:
1. A husband within a close proximity.
2. Said it before, sayin' it again- Real air conditioning.
3. Not having to read Payless Shoe Source window signs in Spanish. Only Spanish at some stores. it will be nice. I am not opposed to Spanish, I speak some Spanish, but seriously, all the signs?
4. Not having to fix things around our house. Oh, you have no idea. I could make a whole list of just things I hate fixing around the house. (among those things-anything requiring the use of a cordless drill, weed-eaters [however, lawn mowers are ok], baseboards [my own personal hell], jobs requiring epoxy or any other type of bonding agent, installing bathroom fixtures, holding electrical wire nuts for Travis, etc.)
5. Someone else can change the light bulbs. I hate changing light bulbs and with the advent of the more costly, but so much longer lasting compact flourescents, I do light bulb changing much less frequently, but still, I hate changing them regardless of the intervals in between changings.
6. Another driver and another vehicle. Heaven.
7. The husband thing.
8. Our place is about 10 minutes from post, like here in Texas, but the grocery stores, WalMart, and every other convenience is even closer than they are to us here. I'm talking right across the street close.
9. Close to old friends and family.
10. There's a full-service fitness center at the apartment complex, no driving required!See, happy happy!
THINGS I ALREADY LOVE ABOUT SOUTH CAROLINA:
1. A husband within a close proximity.
2. Said it before, sayin' it again- Real air conditioning.
3. Not having to read Payless Shoe Source window signs in Spanish. Only Spanish at some stores. it will be nice. I am not opposed to Spanish, I speak some Spanish, but seriously, all the signs?
4. Not having to fix things around our house. Oh, you have no idea. I could make a whole list of just things I hate fixing around the house. (among those things-anything requiring the use of a cordless drill, weed-eaters [however, lawn mowers are ok], baseboards [my own personal hell], jobs requiring epoxy or any other type of bonding agent, installing bathroom fixtures, holding electrical wire nuts for Travis, etc.)
5. Someone else can change the light bulbs. I hate changing light bulbs and with the advent of the more costly, but so much longer lasting compact flourescents, I do light bulb changing much less frequently, but still, I hate changing them regardless of the intervals in between changings.
6. Another driver and another vehicle. Heaven.
7. The husband thing.
8. Our place is about 10 minutes from post, like here in Texas, but the grocery stores, WalMart, and every other convenience is even closer than they are to us here. I'm talking right across the street close.
9. Close to old friends and family.
10. There's a full-service fitness center at the apartment complex, no driving required!See, happy happy!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
T13 Woopsie
1. My whole purpose for starting to do the Thursday 13 was to be more diligent about blogging. Again, blogging is a form of therapy for me and I enjoy it, so I should be doing it more. I spaced this week on Thursday. So, today we do T13 on Saturday.
2. Thanks to Cathleen and the other lady (sorry, spaced on her name) who are tried and true Army moving pros. They let me know that it is OK for me to not have everything organized and perfectly clean and wonderful for the packers. After all, they are packers and packing is what they do. Apparently, there are Army peeps who have had packers pack dirty dishes for a move, garbage cans full of trash, and all kinds of things I would never dream of packing. Apparently my "worst" is someone else's "best." I find this incredibly disturbing and disgusting. But, thanks to the ladies, I will not spend tomorrow wigging out about my imperfections as I have for the last four days (or more, I forget). I am just going to clear out the bedroom with the stuff we will be transporting and mark the room for them to not pack it, rifle through my closet for anything I might have missed, pack up our medicine cabinet, pack our suitcases and wait for the movers to come. I swear, God must have known I needed these ladies to give me the rundown because I have been working my nalgas to the bone.
3. I was reminded tonight that FRGs are both necessary and mind-numbingly retarded at the same time.
4. During one of my chemical meltdowns today my bed became the launching pad for ten tons of mish-mashed crap. What do you think the odds are that I will be sleeping on my bed tonight?
5. Terry (my friend's son) qualified for the National Junior Olympic Team Qualifying in Greensboro, NC today at the Regional Qualifier (which is the event both my kids had qualified for). We may be housing six house guests the weekend after we move into our new apartment if the entire family comes along. Five of the guests are the Oakleys and the other is the throwing coach. I guess I'm gonna be getting a move on once we land in SC! Actually, I am excited about this.
6. I still have three loads of laundry on the line right now. That means I have to get them down, get them put away and put the load in the washer out before I can sleep wherever I am going to sleep tonight.
7. I told Travis last night that I would see him in a week. This is highly exciting to me. I hope it is highly exciting for you too. If not, oh well.
8. The Chihuahuas are freaking out. Their house is upside down and their kennels got moved to the no-pack room today. They are not adjusting well. I hope they get the hang of it on the other end.
9. Amanda came to me today and asked me what to do with the, "...stuff in this box?" It was a Motorola Star-Tac box which was housing our first six or seven cell phones. For some reason, I told her to keep them. I have no idea why and no idea what the heck we are going to do with them, but whatever.
10. You should try the Kettle Chips Cracked Black Pepper and Sea Salt chips I had @ CG's house tonight. Holy crap, they is good!
11. I also highly recommend the Asian slaw thingie the lady who was telling me about moving made. No, I don't have the recipe, but it was good. I mean good! Napa cabbage (shredded), scads of green onions, buttered and baked ramen noodles and almond slivers tossed with a sweet white wine vinegar dressing. I could have eaten the whole bowl of it. I was ticked I ate a hamburger before-hand because it filled me up.
12. My truck has been acting up again. Different problem than I fixed last week. I think this might be the alternator. I can't fix that. Anyone up for the happy truck prayer?
13. I sleepy
2. Thanks to Cathleen and the other lady (sorry, spaced on her name) who are tried and true Army moving pros. They let me know that it is OK for me to not have everything organized and perfectly clean and wonderful for the packers. After all, they are packers and packing is what they do. Apparently, there are Army peeps who have had packers pack dirty dishes for a move, garbage cans full of trash, and all kinds of things I would never dream of packing. Apparently my "worst" is someone else's "best." I find this incredibly disturbing and disgusting. But, thanks to the ladies, I will not spend tomorrow wigging out about my imperfections as I have for the last four days (or more, I forget). I am just going to clear out the bedroom with the stuff we will be transporting and mark the room for them to not pack it, rifle through my closet for anything I might have missed, pack up our medicine cabinet, pack our suitcases and wait for the movers to come. I swear, God must have known I needed these ladies to give me the rundown because I have been working my nalgas to the bone.
3. I was reminded tonight that FRGs are both necessary and mind-numbingly retarded at the same time.
4. During one of my chemical meltdowns today my bed became the launching pad for ten tons of mish-mashed crap. What do you think the odds are that I will be sleeping on my bed tonight?
5. Terry (my friend's son) qualified for the National Junior Olympic Team Qualifying in Greensboro, NC today at the Regional Qualifier (which is the event both my kids had qualified for). We may be housing six house guests the weekend after we move into our new apartment if the entire family comes along. Five of the guests are the Oakleys and the other is the throwing coach. I guess I'm gonna be getting a move on once we land in SC! Actually, I am excited about this.
6. I still have three loads of laundry on the line right now. That means I have to get them down, get them put away and put the load in the washer out before I can sleep wherever I am going to sleep tonight.
7. I told Travis last night that I would see him in a week. This is highly exciting to me. I hope it is highly exciting for you too. If not, oh well.
8. The Chihuahuas are freaking out. Their house is upside down and their kennels got moved to the no-pack room today. They are not adjusting well. I hope they get the hang of it on the other end.
9. Amanda came to me today and asked me what to do with the, "...stuff in this box?" It was a Motorola Star-Tac box which was housing our first six or seven cell phones. For some reason, I told her to keep them. I have no idea why and no idea what the heck we are going to do with them, but whatever.
10. You should try the Kettle Chips Cracked Black Pepper and Sea Salt chips I had @ CG's house tonight. Holy crap, they is good!
11. I also highly recommend the Asian slaw thingie the lady who was telling me about moving made. No, I don't have the recipe, but it was good. I mean good! Napa cabbage (shredded), scads of green onions, buttered and baked ramen noodles and almond slivers tossed with a sweet white wine vinegar dressing. I could have eaten the whole bowl of it. I was ticked I ate a hamburger before-hand because it filled me up.
12. My truck has been acting up again. Different problem than I fixed last week. I think this might be the alternator. I can't fix that. Anyone up for the happy truck prayer?
13. I sleepy
Monday, July 6, 2009
Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang
Whole lotta shakin' goin' on...So, the movers come in a week from right now to start packing us up. I am frettfully (or is it fretfully?) concerned that we will be overweight on the move and be in some way financially responsible for the overage. Thusly, this week begins Perge-a-tor-y. Everything I have put out on the curb in the last week has been gone in relatively quick fashion from the junk pickers. That works for me. I could hold a yard sale, but why? Every yard sale I've held in this city has resulted in little more than my own astronomical frustration with mankind. So, I take the worthy items to the thrift shop (where I know I will make a bit of cash) and junk the rest on the curb.
I need to remove the nail polish from my fingernails. It is quite chipped right now and very "White Trash." I can't find the nail polish remover. AGAIN. I am guessing (off the top of my head, no confirmation on it whatsoever, simply speculation, a hunch-if you will) that its disappearance may have something to do with the presence of a teenage female in my home. That's what happened last time I couldn't find any. It hardly seems right to go buy a new bottle of remover because space in the truck is scarce and the movers wont take liquidsl... So, the dilema at hand; break down and buy the smallest, cheapest remover I can find and not look like trash or just roll with it? I am sure you'll find me at WalMart before too long. On a side note, my nails look fabulous. Even the one I broke when I was working on my truck last week filed down nicely. I think it all has to do with the new polish I got a while back when I resigned myself to not getting a pedicure because I was cutting costs where I was able. The polish about which I rave is Nicole by O.P.I. Yes, that O.P.I. And the polish is that good. I have natural nails and if I clear-coat, my manicure will last at least a week. Pedis are lasting until I remove the polish. Yay!
Somehow I managed to wind up with exactly the amount of protiens we will eat before we leave. I have no idea how that worked out, but I love that it did. I don't mind giving my fridge and freezer contents away when we go, but I love that I wont have to give that much away. I've been trying to plan for our departure every time I go for groceries. Yay!
I am so excited to leave. I am so not excited at everything I have to do in order to make leaving possible. Like an idiot, I scheduled my kids' annual sports/school physicals for tomorrow and Wednesday. What on this green earth was I thinking? Like I have time to stop everything to go to the TMC to sit and wait on whomever to get this done and get us outta there. On the flip-side, I wont have to do them in SC when I am frantically trying to register the kids and put my home back together again. This one's a tie.I've never lived in an apartment before. I am a little nervous about it, but excited too. Just think, I'll be able to call someone when something breaks instead of having to fix it my dang self or begging Travis to do to it, which he would, but we have to work around the Army's schedule and all. Someone will be cutting the grass. Someone will be fixing the running potty. Someone else will be responsible for everything. AND, we'll have refrigerated air. I simply think that is marvellous. I haven't had refrigerated air in almost 14 years, since we moved to El Paso from a place where sane people live. Angels sing today because I will have refrigerated air. I will not join them because I love you and the safety of your eardrums.
I had to put on a real bra today. I think I am in mourning. I have to head out and run errands at real places, not just the WalMart or grocery stores. I always wear a bra, lest I frighten small children, however putting on a real one today instead of a sports-bra really chapped my hide. I guess I could call it what my nephew does- chub rub. Wearing a real bra really gives me chub rub. Hmm, not sure if it is a good fit. Anyway, it is safe to stop by today, I'm appropriately constrained.
I have an insatiable ache to bake right now. Baking is very comforting to me. All, I mean everything, in todos, absolutely all of my scrapbooking stuff (yes, all) is packed up and waiting for transport, so I can't detox there. I think the upheaval of next week is starting to get to me. Of course, my rear would love some baking too. Maybe next time, I'll just sit on whateve I bake and save my body some time and energy, since that's where it all goes anyway.
I'm still ticked about my bangs. I mentioned earlier that my newly shorn bangs make me look like Natasha from "Rocky and Bullwinkle." They so do. I didn't go to the fabulous Beth for my last haircut. My mother wanted to treat me to a fresh cut while she was in town and Beth was a bit out of both of our price ranges, so we went to the beauty school. The girl did a great job on everything, other than she didn't cut it short enough in back and the bangs came right off the kindergarted playground after the first scissors lesson. UGH. Beth is so worth the money. AND I AM LEAVING THE ONLY PERSON TO DO MY HAIR IN THE LAST EIGHT YEARS, aside from the chickie-poo at the beauty school, AND I AM A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT. slightly. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Do you think Beth would move with us?
Anyway, I had hoped to arrive in Columbia with a sleek and sexy haircut, 50 pounds lighter, tanned and toned, with buckets full of cash. I hope Travis isn't disappointed. All he's getting is me.
I need to remove the nail polish from my fingernails. It is quite chipped right now and very "White Trash." I can't find the nail polish remover. AGAIN. I am guessing (off the top of my head, no confirmation on it whatsoever, simply speculation, a hunch-if you will) that its disappearance may have something to do with the presence of a teenage female in my home. That's what happened last time I couldn't find any. It hardly seems right to go buy a new bottle of remover because space in the truck is scarce and the movers wont take liquidsl... So, the dilema at hand; break down and buy the smallest, cheapest remover I can find and not look like trash or just roll with it? I am sure you'll find me at WalMart before too long. On a side note, my nails look fabulous. Even the one I broke when I was working on my truck last week filed down nicely. I think it all has to do with the new polish I got a while back when I resigned myself to not getting a pedicure because I was cutting costs where I was able. The polish about which I rave is Nicole by O.P.I. Yes, that O.P.I. And the polish is that good. I have natural nails and if I clear-coat, my manicure will last at least a week. Pedis are lasting until I remove the polish. Yay!
Somehow I managed to wind up with exactly the amount of protiens we will eat before we leave. I have no idea how that worked out, but I love that it did. I don't mind giving my fridge and freezer contents away when we go, but I love that I wont have to give that much away. I've been trying to plan for our departure every time I go for groceries. Yay!
I am so excited to leave. I am so not excited at everything I have to do in order to make leaving possible. Like an idiot, I scheduled my kids' annual sports/school physicals for tomorrow and Wednesday. What on this green earth was I thinking? Like I have time to stop everything to go to the TMC to sit and wait on whomever to get this done and get us outta there. On the flip-side, I wont have to do them in SC when I am frantically trying to register the kids and put my home back together again. This one's a tie.I've never lived in an apartment before. I am a little nervous about it, but excited too. Just think, I'll be able to call someone when something breaks instead of having to fix it my dang self or begging Travis to do to it, which he would, but we have to work around the Army's schedule and all. Someone will be cutting the grass. Someone will be fixing the running potty. Someone else will be responsible for everything. AND, we'll have refrigerated air. I simply think that is marvellous. I haven't had refrigerated air in almost 14 years, since we moved to El Paso from a place where sane people live. Angels sing today because I will have refrigerated air. I will not join them because I love you and the safety of your eardrums.
I had to put on a real bra today. I think I am in mourning. I have to head out and run errands at real places, not just the WalMart or grocery stores. I always wear a bra, lest I frighten small children, however putting on a real one today instead of a sports-bra really chapped my hide. I guess I could call it what my nephew does- chub rub. Wearing a real bra really gives me chub rub. Hmm, not sure if it is a good fit. Anyway, it is safe to stop by today, I'm appropriately constrained.
I have an insatiable ache to bake right now. Baking is very comforting to me. All, I mean everything, in todos, absolutely all of my scrapbooking stuff (yes, all) is packed up and waiting for transport, so I can't detox there. I think the upheaval of next week is starting to get to me. Of course, my rear would love some baking too. Maybe next time, I'll just sit on whateve I bake and save my body some time and energy, since that's where it all goes anyway.
I'm still ticked about my bangs. I mentioned earlier that my newly shorn bangs make me look like Natasha from "Rocky and Bullwinkle." They so do. I didn't go to the fabulous Beth for my last haircut. My mother wanted to treat me to a fresh cut while she was in town and Beth was a bit out of both of our price ranges, so we went to the beauty school. The girl did a great job on everything, other than she didn't cut it short enough in back and the bangs came right off the kindergarted playground after the first scissors lesson. UGH. Beth is so worth the money. AND I AM LEAVING THE ONLY PERSON TO DO MY HAIR IN THE LAST EIGHT YEARS, aside from the chickie-poo at the beauty school, AND I AM A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT. slightly. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Do you think Beth would move with us?
Anyway, I had hoped to arrive in Columbia with a sleek and sexy haircut, 50 pounds lighter, tanned and toned, with buckets full of cash. I hope Travis isn't disappointed. All he's getting is me.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Thursday Thirteen, Part Deux
1. OK, so there's actually a Thursday Thirteen link thing that I am supposed to insert and link to and all that jazz, and then all of you are supposed to click on the link and join up and write your own T13 and then we are all supposed to learn something new about each other every Thursday. Yeah, I'm lucky to get my pictures of my memory card before I miss something good. Do T13 if you want. Don't if you don't. No one will die as a result of either choice.
2. I am pooped out. My mother left yesterday and I puttered around and ran some errands and did some stuff that needed doing and did some laundry. Amazingly, I don't really remember any of what I did, other than I did it.
3. Today, I do remember what I did. And did. And did. And I am pooped out (in case my first reference to the fact went unnoticed). My back hurts and I feel like I haven't slept in a week.
4. Oh, that's right. I've not had a GOOD night's sleep in WAY over a week. Could be why I feel like I haven't slept in a week.
5. I am not anticipating problems with insomnia tonight.
6. The Oakleys have a pool in their back yard. God bless them and their hungry cockatoo and their pool.
7. My front hall closet, which houses everything that doesn't have a real home, all the Christmas stuff, jackets, excess clothing (mine, which doesn't fit in the other two closets), bike helmets, umbrellas, extra hangers, the old stereo receiver (which I don't think I am "allowed" to get rid of), 6003 feet of coaxil cable, our old camcorder and Travis' old drag racing helmet (also, think I am "supposed" to keep), now looks half-empty. Dang, I am good.
8. Living in El Paso presents some absolute perks. At any given time on any given day, a person can place things they deem as junk on their front curb and within a matter of mere hours, someone will come by and take it away, thereby removing the need to make a trip to the dump. Thank you, junk pickers, me and people like me across this forsaken city appreciate you for your insatiable need to collect other peoples' cast-offs. You rock!!
9. I only have three items together to take to the thrift shop. I have a gajillion things I could take, but only three have made it to the bag thus far. That, my friends, is not worth the trip.
10. Today marks only two more Thursdays as a Texan. I am kinda freaking out. In a good way. Sorta.
11. There are a select few things I will miss about El Paso and Fort Bliss: my friends and some of the kids I have come to know through my rugrats, a mountain view no matter where you are in town, reasonably decent Mexican food joints on EVERY corner, the bread markdown cart at WalMart, mild winters (usually), being less than a day's drive from home and living in a house which is really much larger than I need.
12. I have a lot of crap. I realize now that if the movers break or ruin most of it, I will be OK with that because although I waited 15 years to get my big girl furniture and leave the modern-neo-classical-garage-sale collection behind, it is all just stuff. The list of important things is really short (in no particular order)- pictures, scrapbooks and scrapping stuff, heirlooms, the quilts my mother and grandmother made, the furniture my grandpa made and a very little bit of my Polish pottery and bowl collection. That's it. Simple, huh? The full-replacement value clause helps too.
13. I really dig my husband.
2. I am pooped out. My mother left yesterday and I puttered around and ran some errands and did some stuff that needed doing and did some laundry. Amazingly, I don't really remember any of what I did, other than I did it.
3. Today, I do remember what I did. And did. And did. And I am pooped out (in case my first reference to the fact went unnoticed). My back hurts and I feel like I haven't slept in a week.
4. Oh, that's right. I've not had a GOOD night's sleep in WAY over a week. Could be why I feel like I haven't slept in a week.
5. I am not anticipating problems with insomnia tonight.
6. The Oakleys have a pool in their back yard. God bless them and their hungry cockatoo and their pool.
7. My front hall closet, which houses everything that doesn't have a real home, all the Christmas stuff, jackets, excess clothing (mine, which doesn't fit in the other two closets), bike helmets, umbrellas, extra hangers, the old stereo receiver (which I don't think I am "allowed" to get rid of), 6003 feet of coaxil cable, our old camcorder and Travis' old drag racing helmet (also, think I am "supposed" to keep), now looks half-empty. Dang, I am good.
8. Living in El Paso presents some absolute perks. At any given time on any given day, a person can place things they deem as junk on their front curb and within a matter of mere hours, someone will come by and take it away, thereby removing the need to make a trip to the dump. Thank you, junk pickers, me and people like me across this forsaken city appreciate you for your insatiable need to collect other peoples' cast-offs. You rock!!
9. I only have three items together to take to the thrift shop. I have a gajillion things I could take, but only three have made it to the bag thus far. That, my friends, is not worth the trip.
10. Today marks only two more Thursdays as a Texan. I am kinda freaking out. In a good way. Sorta.
11. There are a select few things I will miss about El Paso and Fort Bliss: my friends and some of the kids I have come to know through my rugrats, a mountain view no matter where you are in town, reasonably decent Mexican food joints on EVERY corner, the bread markdown cart at WalMart, mild winters (usually), being less than a day's drive from home and living in a house which is really much larger than I need.
12. I have a lot of crap. I realize now that if the movers break or ruin most of it, I will be OK with that because although I waited 15 years to get my big girl furniture and leave the modern-neo-classical-garage-sale collection behind, it is all just stuff. The list of important things is really short (in no particular order)- pictures, scrapbooks and scrapping stuff, heirlooms, the quilts my mother and grandmother made, the furniture my grandpa made and a very little bit of my Polish pottery and bowl collection. That's it. Simple, huh? The full-replacement value clause helps too.
13. I really dig my husband.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Thursday Thirteen
1. I have been very lazy about writing lately, which bothers me. Hopefully doing the Thurs13 will inspire me to be more consistent with writing. Therapy, I tell you!
2. It isn't Thursday any more where I am right now. Thursday left 30 minutes ago. Now, taking that into consideration, I have three Thursdays left as a Texan.
3. I am contemplating not leaving Texas until July 17. Travis is competing in the Army Ten-Miler Fort Jackson Qualifier on the morning of the 18th. If I leave on the 16th, he will be up late on the night of the 17th waiting for us to get there. I want him to do well because he wants to do well. I would rather not keep him up that night.
4. We went to see "Angels and Demons" at the theater on-post tonight/last night (depending on how you look at it). It was good. It wont change the world, but it was good and I loved the cinematography. Way cool.
5. Tomorrow and Saturday are our last sporting events in Texas. Whew.
6. I did laundry today, pretty much all day, and I still have more to do.
7. Swamp coolers and humidity= cranky Stacie. 'Nuff said.
8. I had coupons for free coffee thingies at McDonald's so I took the kids there after track for a caffiene fix. I hate coffee, but they both like it. The lady at the window who took my order, who I always joke with, stamped the card four times. She rocks.
9. I made great BBQ pork sandwiches tonight using cheapie country-style ribs. I did a dry rub, crock-potted them, trimmed them up and shredded them, sauced them, and then we had them on whole-wheat buns. They rocked! Sadly, no BBQ remains.
10. Tomorrow is another fun-filled errand day before noon, then prep-mode for the track meet, then the 1st session of the track meet.
11. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium tomorrow. Amen.
12. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium Saturday. Amen.
13. Surprisingly, with as much as I have to say, I barely could come up with 13 different points to mention. Something must be wrong wtih me.
2. It isn't Thursday any more where I am right now. Thursday left 30 minutes ago. Now, taking that into consideration, I have three Thursdays left as a Texan.
3. I am contemplating not leaving Texas until July 17. Travis is competing in the Army Ten-Miler Fort Jackson Qualifier on the morning of the 18th. If I leave on the 16th, he will be up late on the night of the 17th waiting for us to get there. I want him to do well because he wants to do well. I would rather not keep him up that night.
4. We went to see "Angels and Demons" at the theater on-post tonight/last night (depending on how you look at it). It was good. It wont change the world, but it was good and I loved the cinematography. Way cool.
5. Tomorrow and Saturday are our last sporting events in Texas. Whew.
6. I did laundry today, pretty much all day, and I still have more to do.
7. Swamp coolers and humidity= cranky Stacie. 'Nuff said.
8. I had coupons for free coffee thingies at McDonald's so I took the kids there after track for a caffiene fix. I hate coffee, but they both like it. The lady at the window who took my order, who I always joke with, stamped the card four times. She rocks.
9. I made great BBQ pork sandwiches tonight using cheapie country-style ribs. I did a dry rub, crock-potted them, trimmed them up and shredded them, sauced them, and then we had them on whole-wheat buns. They rocked! Sadly, no BBQ remains.
10. Tomorrow is another fun-filled errand day before noon, then prep-mode for the track meet, then the 1st session of the track meet.
11. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium tomorrow. Amen.
12. Dear Lord, Please help it not be scorching-hot at the UTEP track stadium Saturday. Amen.
13. Surprisingly, with as much as I have to say, I barely could come up with 13 different points to mention. Something must be wrong wtih me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Starving into Chunkdom
Its no great secret that one of the prerequisites for membership in our family is that one must be "robust," if you will. Hello, we all know my past and one of the reasons Travis began triathlons was weight control. Amanda is by no means fat, but she does watch her activitiy levels to ensure she doesn't gain, which she is prone to do. Nolan has always been complex.
I've used dietary methods to control his asthma and behavior in the past. Truly and honestly, that did work for him. When I was mistakenly diagnosed as a Celiac I made drastic dietary changes to my own diet, then omitted gluten from the kids' diets when a doctor suspected they might be as well. After genetic testing, we were pronounced OK (thankfully), but I did what we had to do to control our health. We lived.
Nolan is a big guy. He just turned twelve and is 5'6". He has grown three inches in the last five months, but only gained about eight pounds (that's awesome!). He wears the same size pants as Travis and an 8.5 or 9 shoe. I think in another six months he might just be taller than me, and I am tall- 5'8".
During our Celiac phase, the kids were seeing a pediatric gastrologist (I think that's right) who was a royal asshat. He was downright mean to the kids, especially Nolan. I've always taken great pride in the varied and healthful diets I fed the kids- lots of fresh produce, whole grains, minimal junk food and packaged foods. In front of both kids he told me the kids were both fat (yup, used that word) and that they would die if I didn't do something to get their weights under control. He told me to cut calories and carbs, to allow only minimal sugars (to include fruits) and get drastic. So, I did.
I was doing what a doctor told me to and I cut and cut and cut the calories and carbs, limited their fruits and sugary foods and I followed portion control like a crazy person. Nolan went to his sports practices and worked out three, four, sometimes five days a week. At one point, we would leave one practice which lasted about an hour and a half and go to football for two hours, two or three times a week. And he gained weight. So I became more diligent. And he gained more weight. I just about killed myself trying to "help" him and trying to figure it out, hoping that when he hit puberty he would stretch out and get a bit leaner. I've seen how he struggles and how mean other kids are. I listened to that mean doctor tell me about how I was killing my kids.
Coach Avery has been aware of Nolan's weight since November since the kids have to weigh-in for each tourney. Nolan has two wrestle kids much older than he at practice because there are no other big guys. He is immature and they have experience on the mats, and it both helped and hurt him. Coach asked me after Nolan's foot injury if he had gained weight, and he had, a bit, but it came back down when he was able to return to practice.
Last week during the kids' running practice (six one-hundred yard sprints, a three mile run, six more one-hundred yard sprints-they do it twice a week) Coach and I were talking about Nolan. Again, his weight came up and I asked him if he thought Nolan might need more calories. Most days the kids average about 1900-2300 calories. He told me that could be a part of the problem and he told me to try feeding the kids five small meals a day. I went home and did some research and found out for a kid of Nolan's stature and weight and age that he should consume about 4200-4400 calories per day to maintain his weight. TO MAINTAIN IT! Holy crap. I think I might have starved my kid's metabolism to sleep.
I decided that night to make some subtle changes. I bought some non-fat dry milk powder to add to things to boost our protein intake. I got non-fat plain yogurt and frozen fruits, whole wheat flour and just about went broke on fresh produce. I started baking some whole grain muffins and began fixing smoothies in the mornings. I chopped veggies up and put them in a container in the fridge and I keep it full. Now, they eat.
The smoothies are to give them a nutrition boost in the morning. Nolan's school serves breakfast free and he loves eating there, but their serving sizes are small and are probably only about 250 calories total for the meal. So, I make the kids each a smoothie with the NF yogurt, frozen fruit, NF milk powder, a bit of orange juice and ice. They average about 10 ounces and are about 250 calories.
I've added some additional veggies to their lunches. They were already taking carrot and celery sticks, but I got some jicama, extra cukes (I use them a lot) and broccoli and doubled what they take. I also got some cherry tomatoes for Nolan because he loves them and Amanda thinks tomatoes are the anti-Christ.
They eat again when they get home from school. I'm giving them LF cheese sticks, veggies (all they want) and a piece of fruit. And then we have our regular dinners. All in all, I think they've only gained about 500 or 600 calories per day, but I think the scheduling is just as important as the intake. And, all the calories are from clean protiens, produce and LF/NF additions.
Nolan was pissed at first about more attention to what he eats and he stayed that way all day. The next day, he had hurt feelings. Then, by Monday he was raring to go. He ate the way I had taught him and he felt great. He had an awesome practice Monday and woke up ON HIS OWN Tuesday morning when his alarm rang. And since then, he's been a different kid.
Of course, these changes could also be a result of the move going public. He is incredibly relieved that we are finally going to move. The night he found out he came to me and showed me what he was wearing to bed that night. He chose his white pajama pants with red hearts and his Fort Jackson t-shirt and asked me if I could figure it out. I grinned and said no, just so he could tell me it was that he loved Fort Jackson.
Last night was running practice. Over the last three weeks, Nolan had cut 27 minutes off thethree mile run. Yes, 27. Last night, he did both sets of sprints and the three mile run another ten minutes faster than his previous time, which was only the three miles. He finished strong, drank some water and then HE GOT TO WAIT ON HIS SISTER FOR A CHANGE!
Feed your kids. They'll stop being weenies.
I've used dietary methods to control his asthma and behavior in the past. Truly and honestly, that did work for him. When I was mistakenly diagnosed as a Celiac I made drastic dietary changes to my own diet, then omitted gluten from the kids' diets when a doctor suspected they might be as well. After genetic testing, we were pronounced OK (thankfully), but I did what we had to do to control our health. We lived.
Nolan is a big guy. He just turned twelve and is 5'6". He has grown three inches in the last five months, but only gained about eight pounds (that's awesome!). He wears the same size pants as Travis and an 8.5 or 9 shoe. I think in another six months he might just be taller than me, and I am tall- 5'8".
During our Celiac phase, the kids were seeing a pediatric gastrologist (I think that's right) who was a royal asshat. He was downright mean to the kids, especially Nolan. I've always taken great pride in the varied and healthful diets I fed the kids- lots of fresh produce, whole grains, minimal junk food and packaged foods. In front of both kids he told me the kids were both fat (yup, used that word) and that they would die if I didn't do something to get their weights under control. He told me to cut calories and carbs, to allow only minimal sugars (to include fruits) and get drastic. So, I did.
I was doing what a doctor told me to and I cut and cut and cut the calories and carbs, limited their fruits and sugary foods and I followed portion control like a crazy person. Nolan went to his sports practices and worked out three, four, sometimes five days a week. At one point, we would leave one practice which lasted about an hour and a half and go to football for two hours, two or three times a week. And he gained weight. So I became more diligent. And he gained more weight. I just about killed myself trying to "help" him and trying to figure it out, hoping that when he hit puberty he would stretch out and get a bit leaner. I've seen how he struggles and how mean other kids are. I listened to that mean doctor tell me about how I was killing my kids.
Coach Avery has been aware of Nolan's weight since November since the kids have to weigh-in for each tourney. Nolan has two wrestle kids much older than he at practice because there are no other big guys. He is immature and they have experience on the mats, and it both helped and hurt him. Coach asked me after Nolan's foot injury if he had gained weight, and he had, a bit, but it came back down when he was able to return to practice.
Last week during the kids' running practice (six one-hundred yard sprints, a three mile run, six more one-hundred yard sprints-they do it twice a week) Coach and I were talking about Nolan. Again, his weight came up and I asked him if he thought Nolan might need more calories. Most days the kids average about 1900-2300 calories. He told me that could be a part of the problem and he told me to try feeding the kids five small meals a day. I went home and did some research and found out for a kid of Nolan's stature and weight and age that he should consume about 4200-4400 calories per day to maintain his weight. TO MAINTAIN IT! Holy crap. I think I might have starved my kid's metabolism to sleep.
I decided that night to make some subtle changes. I bought some non-fat dry milk powder to add to things to boost our protein intake. I got non-fat plain yogurt and frozen fruits, whole wheat flour and just about went broke on fresh produce. I started baking some whole grain muffins and began fixing smoothies in the mornings. I chopped veggies up and put them in a container in the fridge and I keep it full. Now, they eat.
The smoothies are to give them a nutrition boost in the morning. Nolan's school serves breakfast free and he loves eating there, but their serving sizes are small and are probably only about 250 calories total for the meal. So, I make the kids each a smoothie with the NF yogurt, frozen fruit, NF milk powder, a bit of orange juice and ice. They average about 10 ounces and are about 250 calories.
I've added some additional veggies to their lunches. They were already taking carrot and celery sticks, but I got some jicama, extra cukes (I use them a lot) and broccoli and doubled what they take. I also got some cherry tomatoes for Nolan because he loves them and Amanda thinks tomatoes are the anti-Christ.
They eat again when they get home from school. I'm giving them LF cheese sticks, veggies (all they want) and a piece of fruit. And then we have our regular dinners. All in all, I think they've only gained about 500 or 600 calories per day, but I think the scheduling is just as important as the intake. And, all the calories are from clean protiens, produce and LF/NF additions.
Nolan was pissed at first about more attention to what he eats and he stayed that way all day. The next day, he had hurt feelings. Then, by Monday he was raring to go. He ate the way I had taught him and he felt great. He had an awesome practice Monday and woke up ON HIS OWN Tuesday morning when his alarm rang. And since then, he's been a different kid.
Of course, these changes could also be a result of the move going public. He is incredibly relieved that we are finally going to move. The night he found out he came to me and showed me what he was wearing to bed that night. He chose his white pajama pants with red hearts and his Fort Jackson t-shirt and asked me if I could figure it out. I grinned and said no, just so he could tell me it was that he loved Fort Jackson.
Last night was running practice. Over the last three weeks, Nolan had cut 27 minutes off thethree mile run. Yes, 27. Last night, he did both sets of sprints and the three mile run another ten minutes faster than his previous time, which was only the three miles. He finished strong, drank some water and then HE GOT TO WAIT ON HIS SISTER FOR A CHANGE!
Feed your kids. They'll stop being weenies.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Just*Can't*Stand*It!
I walked in Haggerty and Company at 9:56, four minutes early for my appointment with Brian. The receptionist announced me and Brian appeared a couple of minutes later. I like a man who can be punctual. I like anyone who can be punctual, especially in a business setting. After a greeting and a handshake we went in his office to chat about this and that and mull over housely things.
After coming to our decision to move the family over the weekend I knew I would have to go over the particulars with Brian to make sure all the ducks were in a row. They are. He told me how our market is surging hugely and that our price bracket is not the hottest one right now. We would have to drop our price by about 3.6% to hit that, but Brian feels we may be in the right place right now. He did not encourage me to lower our price but did tell me it would increase our visibility. That is certainly something I need to discuss with Travis. But, we have time on our side and the kids and I aren't leaving until early in August. He said we don't necessarily need to drop our price until we actually vacate the house. I like that. Thumbs up. He also mentioned that the surge of troops which have just arrived here as a result of the recent BRAC at Fort Bliss have had a huge impace on real estate. The new residents are grabbing up the new home inventory and are seeking the best of the best deals. The next wave is coming very soon and he expects that by the time they are ready to make housing decisions, our new and existing home inventories will be dropping and homes like ours will be a hotter ticket. He also said that if the house has not sold by the time we move, we can do our part of the closing via e-mail and phone calls. Such a nice row.
I can't help but think I may have been grinning non-stop since Sunday. On the way to wrestling last night I couldn't stop saying stuff like, "Guess what? We're moving!" and, "Have you heard? We are leaving?" to the kids. You know, the way a little kid repeats the same Knock-knock joke over and over and over again? Or the way they say, "Guess what? Chicken butt?" Yeah, that was what I was doing. And it felt great. My eyes have misted over at least a dozen times since yesterday out of sheer joy. I*AM*MOVING!
Holy crap! I am going to have a life again. I am going to live with Travis again. With him. Holy crap!I've seen some pictures of myself taken recently and I have to say, I am looking a bit worse for the wear. I don't think it is entirely un-doable, with a little time I may be able to reverse the damage. I think I am maybe looking a bit like denim- worn, faded, maybe a bit frayed, but always reliable. I've been missing my vibrancy. Travis makes me vibrant. I can't imagine being near him and not feeling alive and colorful and full of excitement. He does that for me. How lucky am I?
My greatest pleasure will come once we settle in Columbia; once I can turn a dwelling into a refuge for him and begin to take care of him again. I love nothing more than to make dinner for him and help him detox from his day. I get to do that for him. I get to make his days easier. Lucky. I get to do that for an amazing man. And, in just under three months, I will do that on a regular basis.
I am looking forward to finding myself again. Funny, I am completely able to function on my own since I have had plenty of practice over the last seventeen years, but somehow I always find myself in Travis. I know who I am. I have confidence in myself. I do not "need" him to function. But when he is near me it feels almost like an awakening. His presence absolutely fills my heart. I will be vibrant and bright and awake and brimming.I am lucky. I am such a lucky girl.
After coming to our decision to move the family over the weekend I knew I would have to go over the particulars with Brian to make sure all the ducks were in a row. They are. He told me how our market is surging hugely and that our price bracket is not the hottest one right now. We would have to drop our price by about 3.6% to hit that, but Brian feels we may be in the right place right now. He did not encourage me to lower our price but did tell me it would increase our visibility. That is certainly something I need to discuss with Travis. But, we have time on our side and the kids and I aren't leaving until early in August. He said we don't necessarily need to drop our price until we actually vacate the house. I like that. Thumbs up. He also mentioned that the surge of troops which have just arrived here as a result of the recent BRAC at Fort Bliss have had a huge impace on real estate. The new residents are grabbing up the new home inventory and are seeking the best of the best deals. The next wave is coming very soon and he expects that by the time they are ready to make housing decisions, our new and existing home inventories will be dropping and homes like ours will be a hotter ticket. He also said that if the house has not sold by the time we move, we can do our part of the closing via e-mail and phone calls. Such a nice row.
I can't help but think I may have been grinning non-stop since Sunday. On the way to wrestling last night I couldn't stop saying stuff like, "Guess what? We're moving!" and, "Have you heard? We are leaving?" to the kids. You know, the way a little kid repeats the same Knock-knock joke over and over and over again? Or the way they say, "Guess what? Chicken butt?" Yeah, that was what I was doing. And it felt great. My eyes have misted over at least a dozen times since yesterday out of sheer joy. I*AM*MOVING!
Holy crap! I am going to have a life again. I am going to live with Travis again. With him. Holy crap!I've seen some pictures of myself taken recently and I have to say, I am looking a bit worse for the wear. I don't think it is entirely un-doable, with a little time I may be able to reverse the damage. I think I am maybe looking a bit like denim- worn, faded, maybe a bit frayed, but always reliable. I've been missing my vibrancy. Travis makes me vibrant. I can't imagine being near him and not feeling alive and colorful and full of excitement. He does that for me. How lucky am I?
My greatest pleasure will come once we settle in Columbia; once I can turn a dwelling into a refuge for him and begin to take care of him again. I love nothing more than to make dinner for him and help him detox from his day. I get to do that for him. I get to make his days easier. Lucky. I get to do that for an amazing man. And, in just under three months, I will do that on a regular basis.
I am looking forward to finding myself again. Funny, I am completely able to function on my own since I have had plenty of practice over the last seventeen years, but somehow I always find myself in Travis. I know who I am. I have confidence in myself. I do not "need" him to function. But when he is near me it feels almost like an awakening. His presence absolutely fills my heart. I will be vibrant and bright and awake and brimming.I am lucky. I am such a lucky girl.
Monday, May 18, 2009
... And There You Go
My Travis is amazing. No doubt, from what you've read you can easily ascertain that for yourself, right? If not, please accept 50 lashings with a wet noodle or other lashing tool of your choosing- and keep it to yourself. I don't want any of your lashing stories to muddy up my blog or nothin'. Pervert.
Several years ago, my dear friend and former partner, Mr. Randy, made an observation of Travis. He has one mood. This one. Oh, yeah, you can't see my impression of him. Basically, the one mood is one where he sits, quietly and takes everytihng in. There may be an occasional nod or hand gesture, but the mood remains the same. If there is a beer close by, the eyes may be slightly buzz-fuzzed, but the mood- you got it, unchanged. I am sure there are many a baby Soldier who would beg to differ from Mr. Randy's interpretation and prolly a useless NCO as well, but for everyone else there is just the one mood.
It has always kind of made me giggle a bit to myself that I can be a bit timid around Travis or when I have something important to talk to him about. I am NOT afraid of him in any regard and we can talk about anything. I just hate anything that would jolt him from The Mood, and I forget that there is not much that will cause the jolting. But, this weekend, after mulling it over and over and over in my own head for the last two weeks, I just kind of said it.
Travis called Sunday and it was the first time in a week that we had actually talked. We text almost daily, but it was a super-crazy week for him and with the time difference and wrestling every night and the tourney on Saturday, there wasn't much time for an actual conversation until yesterday. And boy, did we talk.
Phoenix's death opens up a lot of possibilities for us, as you may have heard me mention. Travis had purchased a car for Amanda at an awesome price and had intended to put a little money and a bit more time into it, but the time has yet to open up and the money... Well, you know. So, he decided to sell the car. Even without a working catalytic converter, it is in great shape and worth every penny of more than the $500 he would take for it (but we are asking more). It will be very easy to sell. So, sell it is. He wanted to use that money to put into the truck that currently lives with him and then finance a trip to El Paso with the possibility of taking the kids back with him and enrolling them in school there, leaving me here to finish with the house.
So, the discussion yesterday that I was afraid to initiate started with his trip here and taking the kids back and our summer plans, then I asked him how he would feel if we all came out and then we could get the kids enrolled and I would leave them there and come back to El Paso in August to finish up here, if the house hadn't sold. Then he said it, in his one-toned, one-mooded way, "Screw it, if you're coming here, you're staying here (not really exactly what he said, but I am trying to be gentle- remember, he is a crusty ole Sarge)." He told me to forget about El Paso alltogether and once we make the trip there, to stay there with him.
Our purpose for staying here was that without selling the house and all the money we lost on investments last year, we wouldn't really have the $2-3k we would need to set ourselves up in a rental house (deposits and the like), monthly rent, and pay the mortgage here. But, his apartment complex wont make us pay another deposit if we choose to upgrade to a larger apartment and they are dog friendly. And, leaving here means the utilities will go down a bunch and we wont have the $200-250 in utilities for the EP house, so we can put that toward the higher rent for another apartment. And cancelling the cable here will cut our cable bill by half, since he has it there too. So, if we are careful, keeping the house (if it hasn't sold) and moving into a larger apartment will actually wind up being slightly cheaper than the two full sets of household bills we are paying right now.
So, change of plans (if the house hasn't sold by then)- instead of Travis coming out (or maybe in addition to it), the kids and I will be relocating at the end of July or early in August permanently, or as permanent as Travis' assignment is, at least. I am so excited, in spite of the negatives. What are those? not a long list and it is really just trivial at this point, but- reduction of 1000 square feet of living space, no yard, trying to recalculate our finances AGAIN, leaving the house here empty, and the location of the complex is not exactly where we want to live and not in the school district we want. I can deal with all of it. Imagine, my family will be in one place again. I can actually be a wife again. I can move into my new ready-made life.
Closed doors. Open windows. With pine trees right outside.
Fort Jackson, SC- "Victory Starts Here"
Several years ago, my dear friend and former partner, Mr. Randy, made an observation of Travis. He has one mood. This one. Oh, yeah, you can't see my impression of him. Basically, the one mood is one where he sits, quietly and takes everytihng in. There may be an occasional nod or hand gesture, but the mood remains the same. If there is a beer close by, the eyes may be slightly buzz-fuzzed, but the mood- you got it, unchanged. I am sure there are many a baby Soldier who would beg to differ from Mr. Randy's interpretation and prolly a useless NCO as well, but for everyone else there is just the one mood.
It has always kind of made me giggle a bit to myself that I can be a bit timid around Travis or when I have something important to talk to him about. I am NOT afraid of him in any regard and we can talk about anything. I just hate anything that would jolt him from The Mood, and I forget that there is not much that will cause the jolting. But, this weekend, after mulling it over and over and over in my own head for the last two weeks, I just kind of said it.
Travis called Sunday and it was the first time in a week that we had actually talked. We text almost daily, but it was a super-crazy week for him and with the time difference and wrestling every night and the tourney on Saturday, there wasn't much time for an actual conversation until yesterday. And boy, did we talk.
Phoenix's death opens up a lot of possibilities for us, as you may have heard me mention. Travis had purchased a car for Amanda at an awesome price and had intended to put a little money and a bit more time into it, but the time has yet to open up and the money... Well, you know. So, he decided to sell the car. Even without a working catalytic converter, it is in great shape and worth every penny of more than the $500 he would take for it (but we are asking more). It will be very easy to sell. So, sell it is. He wanted to use that money to put into the truck that currently lives with him and then finance a trip to El Paso with the possibility of taking the kids back with him and enrolling them in school there, leaving me here to finish with the house.
So, the discussion yesterday that I was afraid to initiate started with his trip here and taking the kids back and our summer plans, then I asked him how he would feel if we all came out and then we could get the kids enrolled and I would leave them there and come back to El Paso in August to finish up here, if the house hadn't sold. Then he said it, in his one-toned, one-mooded way, "Screw it, if you're coming here, you're staying here (not really exactly what he said, but I am trying to be gentle- remember, he is a crusty ole Sarge)." He told me to forget about El Paso alltogether and once we make the trip there, to stay there with him.
Our purpose for staying here was that without selling the house and all the money we lost on investments last year, we wouldn't really have the $2-3k we would need to set ourselves up in a rental house (deposits and the like), monthly rent, and pay the mortgage here. But, his apartment complex wont make us pay another deposit if we choose to upgrade to a larger apartment and they are dog friendly. And, leaving here means the utilities will go down a bunch and we wont have the $200-250 in utilities for the EP house, so we can put that toward the higher rent for another apartment. And cancelling the cable here will cut our cable bill by half, since he has it there too. So, if we are careful, keeping the house (if it hasn't sold) and moving into a larger apartment will actually wind up being slightly cheaper than the two full sets of household bills we are paying right now.
So, change of plans (if the house hasn't sold by then)- instead of Travis coming out (or maybe in addition to it), the kids and I will be relocating at the end of July or early in August permanently, or as permanent as Travis' assignment is, at least. I am so excited, in spite of the negatives. What are those? not a long list and it is really just trivial at this point, but- reduction of 1000 square feet of living space, no yard, trying to recalculate our finances AGAIN, leaving the house here empty, and the location of the complex is not exactly where we want to live and not in the school district we want. I can deal with all of it. Imagine, my family will be in one place again. I can actually be a wife again. I can move into my new ready-made life.
Closed doors. Open windows. With pine trees right outside.
Fort Jackson, SC- "Victory Starts Here"
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Sighs and Signs
I've hoped for a long time this nightmare would all be coming to an end soon. No real news yet, so sorry if I got you out of your chair jumping up and down and turning cartwheels or something. I've just always been such a believer in the phrase, "Things work out the way they are supposed to." I am hoping our living situation is part of that addage as well.
Although I miss Phoenix dreadfully, I knew travelling to South Carolina would be incredibly hard on her. At nearly fifteen years old and crammed in a car with two Chihuahuas, a teen, a tween and all our luggage and miscellaneous crap, the two day drive would have made her so uncomfortable. She has always been an integral part of our family and her loss is glaringly evident, but it just feels like she was never supposed to make the trip with us. She was so peaceful on her last day and I know that letting her go was the best thing for all of us.
I've had a few things on the "Things I Need to Do Before Leaving El Paso" list for a while. It seems that those things are starting to diminish. Before moving, I wanted to go to Glendale and visit my mother and on a last-minute whim over Spring Break, we picked up and went. It worked out, I didn't over-spend, the dogs did great, the truck did great and we all had a great time. I also wanted to get up to Albuquerque again as well. Nolan and I went up the last weekend of February for wrestling and got a quick visit in with both my nephew and his family and with my sister. When I said, "Quick," I meant it. Now it looks like we may have another chance to head up at the end of this month if Coach Avery decides to take the team to Albuquerque for another tourney. That would mean I could plan better for the weekend, both kids can go and with just the two little dogs, taking them with us or finding someone to keep them for us is much easier.
I've got four years of this house's crap accumulation and the ten years from before when we lived in quarters on Fort Bliss piled up around me. I've known I needed to weed through it and from time to time, I have. I've been doing a few drawers here and a shelving unit there, but this week I've been moved to get it done. This morning I did half the crap in our big dresser. I did our dressers a few weeks ago, but that was more of a rearrangment than a decrappification. Today, decrappification took over. I still need to work on the rest of the dresser, and I will, but I had to walk away for a while. After that, I started working on my closet, where darkness dwells. I don't know why the sudden urge to purge is striking me now, but I am glad it is. I do not want to take any more useless junk along for the ride again.
Our last wrestling tourney will either be this weekend or at the end of the month (remember?), so the season is winding down nicely and just in time for summer. School lets out the second week of June. Travis has been planning to make a trip out and timing with the unit has gotten in the way twice. He is now hoping to be able to make the trip in early June. He also mentioned taking the kids back with him. I nearly had a stroke when I thought about not having the kids with me, but I had to remind myself what the last fifteen months have been like for him. He has not had any family with him, aside from the eight days we visited last June, for the duration of this assignment. He is the one who always has to leave the kids. This may actually work out well. If the kids do go back with him and the house has not yet sold, Travis can enroll them in school there and they can start the year without being disrupted by moving. Also, he can request stabilization if Amanda is attending her Sophomore year of high school in the same city as his assignment. Requesting doesn't mean we will get it, but still, we can make a request. Plus, his apartment complex will allow dogs under 25 pounds, so if we want to stay for an extended visit, we can. Win/win.
Brian and I spoke a couple of days ago. He is holding another open house this weekend and maybe a third next weekend. The family that made the offer is still considering their options and we are still a prospect. He is stll in regular contact with their agent. I am confident he will have the house sold within our contract term. It expires in mid-July. I am not stressed the way I was with our previous agent. I stay pretty relaxed and feel like he is doing everything he needs to do to unload this house for us.
I go on CraigsList regularly to look at rentals in South Carolina. After Travis being there for so long, he has a great idea of where he wants us to live based on the schools and safety and various other things. We know we will be renting until he retires because I am not w
illing to go through anything like this ever again. So, rentals... I want a four bedroom with more than 1800 square feet. I know what we can afford and I have very strict criteria regarding the style of home I want. I need a house big enough so that if and when my mother is ready to move in with us, she wont feel cramped or like she is putting us out. I found that house months ago on Craigs, but we were not ready to go and I sat, looking at the listing for about five weeks. It was the perfect house. Two days ago, I saw the listing posted again. It will be available in June. It is a four bedroom with a FROG (Furnished Room Over Garage- essentially a fifth bedroom), 2500+ square feet, two-car garage, fenced back yard, 2.5 bath, laundry room and EVERYTHING ELSE! And, once we sell this house, we can easily afford it. I am trying not to get excited. The picture of the house is the house I found. It is awesome!
illing to go through anything like this ever again. So, rentals... I want a four bedroom with more than 1800 square feet. I know what we can afford and I have very strict criteria regarding the style of home I want. I need a house big enough so that if and when my mother is ready to move in with us, she wont feel cramped or like she is putting us out. I found that house months ago on Craigs, but we were not ready to go and I sat, looking at the listing for about five weeks. It was the perfect house. Two days ago, I saw the listing posted again. It will be available in June. It is a four bedroom with a FROG (Furnished Room Over Garage- essentially a fifth bedroom), 2500+ square feet, two-car garage, fenced back yard, 2.5 bath, laundry room and EVERYTHING ELSE! And, once we sell this house, we can easily afford it. I am trying not to get excited. The picture of the house is the house I found. It is awesome!So, falling into place, or luck or God or whatever the source of all this is, it is starting to happen. I am at ease and I believe we are on our way to being on our way.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Things I Haaa.... Don't Like Much
I just feel a need to gripe today. Lucky you.
1.) Long cigarette lady- Yes, the one I mentioned earlier. I am still miffed about her. I've noticed small piles along the sidewalk in front of the house for a really long time, on both sides of the walk. Our neighborhood is super-old, so our sidewalks have yard on one side and a sliver of yard about four feet wide on the other (and the street on the other side of that). We have a rock yard and we do keep up with it constantly. We lived in military housing for the better part of 13 years and we DO know how to pick weeds, mow grass, trim shrubs and pick up trash and other (a-hem) "matter" which happens to find its way into the yard. Most of my neighborhood does not know how to do these things (because surely if one had the knowledge, one would apply it to the task at-hand). I have, indeed, also noticed a proliferation of ciggie butts in the yard. We (collectively, all four of us) do not smoke and we are outnumbered by about 85% of our neighborhood. I have no problem with smokers as long as smokers take care of their bizniz and keep it outta mine. AND, my dogs have never crapped anywhere in the neighborhood aside from their own back yard or Kelly's back yard. AND, if they did crap somewhere in the 'hood, I would pick it up. Why? IT IS THE LAW!!! I am fully confident that I know who the offenders are as the kids and I all witnessed them Friday when we were coming back to the house after the house shoppers (who never showed) were supposed to come. She saw us pull into the driveway, with her long cigarette wedged in between her bony talons and her scrawny Cocker Spaniel hunched over on it's leash, and never once flinched or apologized or looked back at the vile pile they left behind. I just don't like her now.
2.) The chick that sat next to me this morning at the band and orchestra concert at the elementary school- It is never in good taste to show up at your fifth grader's school in your work clothes if you are employed in the adult entertainment industry. There is always the possibility that I am wrong about your career, but I have sat in enough classrooms in my day to have learned the application of context clues. Your breastage, however lovely and siliconic and expensive it may be, ought not be hovering on the edges of the danger zone as you sit in the front row digging in your purse (on the floor) for your gum and your digital camera. Also important notations- costume jewelry on a body should never outweigh the body or be "blingy" enough to blind the orchestra teacher (that just isn't nice), lucite footwear (both with and without ankle straps) in excess of three inches should not be worn in public before the street lights come on, a g-string may be worn for any occasion providing that it is fully covered during occasions attended by a populous with an average age of eleven, the presence of one's body fragrance of choice cannot mask one's body odor, even on the occasion that one may retrieve the gallon-sized jug with convenient spray cap from one's purse on the floor in front of them in order that they may apply it in the presence of twelve other parents and the entire fifth and sixth grades.
3.) The parents of this morning's performers at the elementary school (aside from the twelve of us that showed)- Dude, even if you hate elementary school performances and kids and schools and administrators and music, your kid is performing. You prolly should be there. You don't have to enjoy your kids' activities, but I am sure they would love to have you there to witness them doing something they enjoy. I can't believe you didn't show up. I forgive you if you were absolutely not able to be there because you or a child were ill or your wanker boss wouldn't give you time off or if your car broke down on the other side of town. Otherwise, you suck. And, if you come and you don't like being there, fake like you did. It is good for your kid.Now I am tired.
The list is so long, but I need to stop before my fingers fall off.
1.) Long cigarette lady- Yes, the one I mentioned earlier. I am still miffed about her. I've noticed small piles along the sidewalk in front of the house for a really long time, on both sides of the walk. Our neighborhood is super-old, so our sidewalks have yard on one side and a sliver of yard about four feet wide on the other (and the street on the other side of that). We have a rock yard and we do keep up with it constantly. We lived in military housing for the better part of 13 years and we DO know how to pick weeds, mow grass, trim shrubs and pick up trash and other (a-hem) "matter" which happens to find its way into the yard. Most of my neighborhood does not know how to do these things (because surely if one had the knowledge, one would apply it to the task at-hand). I have, indeed, also noticed a proliferation of ciggie butts in the yard. We (collectively, all four of us) do not smoke and we are outnumbered by about 85% of our neighborhood. I have no problem with smokers as long as smokers take care of their bizniz and keep it outta mine. AND, my dogs have never crapped anywhere in the neighborhood aside from their own back yard or Kelly's back yard. AND, if they did crap somewhere in the 'hood, I would pick it up. Why? IT IS THE LAW!!! I am fully confident that I know who the offenders are as the kids and I all witnessed them Friday when we were coming back to the house after the house shoppers (who never showed) were supposed to come. She saw us pull into the driveway, with her long cigarette wedged in between her bony talons and her scrawny Cocker Spaniel hunched over on it's leash, and never once flinched or apologized or looked back at the vile pile they left behind. I just don't like her now.
2.) The chick that sat next to me this morning at the band and orchestra concert at the elementary school- It is never in good taste to show up at your fifth grader's school in your work clothes if you are employed in the adult entertainment industry. There is always the possibility that I am wrong about your career, but I have sat in enough classrooms in my day to have learned the application of context clues. Your breastage, however lovely and siliconic and expensive it may be, ought not be hovering on the edges of the danger zone as you sit in the front row digging in your purse (on the floor) for your gum and your digital camera. Also important notations- costume jewelry on a body should never outweigh the body or be "blingy" enough to blind the orchestra teacher (that just isn't nice), lucite footwear (both with and without ankle straps) in excess of three inches should not be worn in public before the street lights come on, a g-string may be worn for any occasion providing that it is fully covered during occasions attended by a populous with an average age of eleven, the presence of one's body fragrance of choice cannot mask one's body odor, even on the occasion that one may retrieve the gallon-sized jug with convenient spray cap from one's purse on the floor in front of them in order that they may apply it in the presence of twelve other parents and the entire fifth and sixth grades.
3.) The parents of this morning's performers at the elementary school (aside from the twelve of us that showed)- Dude, even if you hate elementary school performances and kids and schools and administrators and music, your kid is performing. You prolly should be there. You don't have to enjoy your kids' activities, but I am sure they would love to have you there to witness them doing something they enjoy. I can't believe you didn't show up. I forgive you if you were absolutely not able to be there because you or a child were ill or your wanker boss wouldn't give you time off or if your car broke down on the other side of town. Otherwise, you suck. And, if you come and you don't like being there, fake like you did. It is good for your kid.Now I am tired.
The list is so long, but I need to stop before my fingers fall off.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Spiral
I am thouroughly exhausted. Utterly, but I stayed up late tonight to watch a show on MTV I've been dying to see, "Steve-O, Demise to Rise." I first became familiar with him the same way most of us did, through "Jackass." I never quite "got" the show or the idea behind it. I just chalked my disdain for the program up to my being too old. Sure, I tried to watch, but most times I would sit with the clicker in my hand and my head cocked sideways with my eyes all squinty wondering what the Hell would catapult someone, anyone, to this level of stupidity. Ah, addiction. That's it, but I didn't know it at the time.
I began to appreciate Steve-O during this season of "Dancing with the Stars," and you can keep your opinion of DWTS to yourself. I like it and there is an abundance of estrogen in this house right now. Mommy usually wins the clicker wars. He was partnered with Lacey and from the first episode I knew I wanted to see more of him. On occasion, his recovery from addiction was brought up in the vignettes shown during the show. He is a very charming person and seems very lovable in a high school boy kind of way- very innocent. I know, he's not.
So, when I saw that there would be a show chronicling his addiction and the early phases of his recovery, I knew I had to watch. I've had a front-row seat to the addiction circus for going on thirty years now (not my parents). I was completely unaware of what was really going on with those involved when I was a kid. I had no idea there was anything wrong with them because I was either oblivious or they hid it well. Regardless, I started to have my awakening to the addictions around me around the time I turned eightteen. And then, I thought there was something I could do about it. Just like everyone has to learn at some point, there wasn't, isn't, ain't never gonna be.
Later in the evening last night, I got a text message from a friend that lives far away from me. It read, "**** passed away April **." After a couple more texts back and forth, my friend agreed to call me today and let me know what she could after she spoke with ****'s husband. No one wants those kinds of texts and I spent a long time last night thinking about things.
I came to know **** through the friend who texted me. I won't be getting specific about "how" I knew her because that would be disrespectful to her family and that is incredibly important to me at this point. But, those two ladies along with a couple of others and myself had plenty of time to get to know each other during a certain period of time not that long ago. She was another Army wife. She had two kids and a husband who did love her. She had also been a nurse at one point.
As I was getting to know her I saw her taking some very high-powered drugs. I saw her shaking when she had gone too long without this one or that one or some combination therein. Everything was prescribed, and therefore, in some ways justified, sort of. She always seemed so tortured when it didn't seem to me that she should have been in that state. No, I didn't understand. I don't think I ever will. I just knew that something just didn't seem quite right about what she was taking and the manner in which she was doing so. I kept my mouth shut.
I don't think I would have ever really called her my friend but accquaintance seems very removed from what she was. I don't know. I know I was not her favorite person, but for a time, I think I was part of her circle. I'm not too sure how she fit into mine. At one point, I might have even called her a nemesis. Around the last time I saw her, I would have likely just classified her as just someone I knew.
As I've aged and watched addiction in my life, I've developed my own little set of coping tools and have become really good at building the defenses I truly needed to protect myself. That gave me the ability to easily walk away when my addiction radar began to emit a certain tone. Still does. Quite frankly, I don't have time to deal with that brand of crazy. It is crazy and this world has handed me enough that I can't slow down to make addiction a stop on my journey. I just don't understand how someone can let that happen to themselves. Having been ill, I also can't grasp how someone can take that kind of gamble with their life. I WANT to be here.
She was making mistakes which could have ended very, very badly. I knew about some of those mistakes and I wasn't alone. I just wasn't aware of how bad it really, really was. It is scary to draw attention to that kind of situation. I am not sure exactly how to report it. I didn't know her husband. And, being perfectly honest, as any Army wife can tell you, telling on someone is a great way to make your own life more difficult (and that word, difficult, is an understatement). No one wants to be involved in someone else's bad business. And, I was afraid. I really didn't want to hurt her, even though I knew she was hurting herself and others. And I didn't want to hurt me.
Again, out of respect for her family, I will not be specific about details of her life and death. I will say that she spent the last year spiraling downward with occasional episodes of recovery. She had MANY chances to improve her situation (MANY), and she did try. I didn't know until today all of what was going on and I don't think there would have been anything I could have done to aid her or her family prior to her death. I do know my presence would not have been appreciated since I welcomed the distance from her when it occurred. Things had apparently been looking better for her when her demons came back raging. She wasn't strong enough to fight them this time and not just the battle, but the war was lost.
Now, a Warrior is also a widower and the single parent of two kids who will always wonder some of the things I do, along with why she did these things to their family. They have every right to both love her and hate her in the same breath. I can't imagine how they will heal but I hope that healing begins very soon and that it comes as naturally as it can.
Steve-O is well for now. Recovery doesn't come in a neat package. More often, it comes in a screwed up ball of crap that doesn't make sense until it is untangled. Even then, maybe not so much. Steve-O was the subject of an intervention during which several people gave him no choice and put him in a nut-house, from which he entered a rehab facility and later a sober-living home. He felt weak during the early months of his recovery and committed himself to a mental institution again a second time, because it is what he wanted. He didn't get well for someone else, but those someone elses prompted him to enter wellness.
I think Steve-O values what he has now. I think he sees that life is a heck of a lot more than huffing nitrous and dropping PCP and drinking by the gallon, all at the same time. Maybe the fact that he has recorded most of his life on video since he was a teen has helped him gain some perspective about what he has done to himself. I think he has found his value. And, thank God he is brave enough to share those videos with a demographic struggling through more chemical influences than any other before them.
I encourage you to watch the show with your kids. DVR it, ask someone else to tape it or do whatever it takes to ensure you and your kids have a chance to see this show together and that you talk about it. Talk about it openly and be honest with your kids. Teach them what you want them to learn so they can protect themselves. You wont always be able to be there to assist them in making their decisions, so teach them how to do it for themselves. They will hear you and hopefully they will listen.
And if there is a next time experience for me, I will do something or say something. I will be smart enough to do it. I do not blame myself or anyone else for what **** did to herself. I do not wonder, "What if." I do know that she was not ready to make change for herself and the outcome proves it. But, if there is a next time, I will.
How awful to die alone and impaired. How much more awful to be the children left behind.
I began to appreciate Steve-O during this season of "Dancing with the Stars," and you can keep your opinion of DWTS to yourself. I like it and there is an abundance of estrogen in this house right now. Mommy usually wins the clicker wars. He was partnered with Lacey and from the first episode I knew I wanted to see more of him. On occasion, his recovery from addiction was brought up in the vignettes shown during the show. He is a very charming person and seems very lovable in a high school boy kind of way- very innocent. I know, he's not.
So, when I saw that there would be a show chronicling his addiction and the early phases of his recovery, I knew I had to watch. I've had a front-row seat to the addiction circus for going on thirty years now (not my parents). I was completely unaware of what was really going on with those involved when I was a kid. I had no idea there was anything wrong with them because I was either oblivious or they hid it well. Regardless, I started to have my awakening to the addictions around me around the time I turned eightteen. And then, I thought there was something I could do about it. Just like everyone has to learn at some point, there wasn't, isn't, ain't never gonna be.
Later in the evening last night, I got a text message from a friend that lives far away from me. It read, "**** passed away April **." After a couple more texts back and forth, my friend agreed to call me today and let me know what she could after she spoke with ****'s husband. No one wants those kinds of texts and I spent a long time last night thinking about things.
I came to know **** through the friend who texted me. I won't be getting specific about "how" I knew her because that would be disrespectful to her family and that is incredibly important to me at this point. But, those two ladies along with a couple of others and myself had plenty of time to get to know each other during a certain period of time not that long ago. She was another Army wife. She had two kids and a husband who did love her. She had also been a nurse at one point.
As I was getting to know her I saw her taking some very high-powered drugs. I saw her shaking when she had gone too long without this one or that one or some combination therein. Everything was prescribed, and therefore, in some ways justified, sort of. She always seemed so tortured when it didn't seem to me that she should have been in that state. No, I didn't understand. I don't think I ever will. I just knew that something just didn't seem quite right about what she was taking and the manner in which she was doing so. I kept my mouth shut.
I don't think I would have ever really called her my friend but accquaintance seems very removed from what she was. I don't know. I know I was not her favorite person, but for a time, I think I was part of her circle. I'm not too sure how she fit into mine. At one point, I might have even called her a nemesis. Around the last time I saw her, I would have likely just classified her as just someone I knew.
As I've aged and watched addiction in my life, I've developed my own little set of coping tools and have become really good at building the defenses I truly needed to protect myself. That gave me the ability to easily walk away when my addiction radar began to emit a certain tone. Still does. Quite frankly, I don't have time to deal with that brand of crazy. It is crazy and this world has handed me enough that I can't slow down to make addiction a stop on my journey. I just don't understand how someone can let that happen to themselves. Having been ill, I also can't grasp how someone can take that kind of gamble with their life. I WANT to be here.
She was making mistakes which could have ended very, very badly. I knew about some of those mistakes and I wasn't alone. I just wasn't aware of how bad it really, really was. It is scary to draw attention to that kind of situation. I am not sure exactly how to report it. I didn't know her husband. And, being perfectly honest, as any Army wife can tell you, telling on someone is a great way to make your own life more difficult (and that word, difficult, is an understatement). No one wants to be involved in someone else's bad business. And, I was afraid. I really didn't want to hurt her, even though I knew she was hurting herself and others. And I didn't want to hurt me.
Again, out of respect for her family, I will not be specific about details of her life and death. I will say that she spent the last year spiraling downward with occasional episodes of recovery. She had MANY chances to improve her situation (MANY), and she did try. I didn't know until today all of what was going on and I don't think there would have been anything I could have done to aid her or her family prior to her death. I do know my presence would not have been appreciated since I welcomed the distance from her when it occurred. Things had apparently been looking better for her when her demons came back raging. She wasn't strong enough to fight them this time and not just the battle, but the war was lost.
Now, a Warrior is also a widower and the single parent of two kids who will always wonder some of the things I do, along with why she did these things to their family. They have every right to both love her and hate her in the same breath. I can't imagine how they will heal but I hope that healing begins very soon and that it comes as naturally as it can.
Steve-O is well for now. Recovery doesn't come in a neat package. More often, it comes in a screwed up ball of crap that doesn't make sense until it is untangled. Even then, maybe not so much. Steve-O was the subject of an intervention during which several people gave him no choice and put him in a nut-house, from which he entered a rehab facility and later a sober-living home. He felt weak during the early months of his recovery and committed himself to a mental institution again a second time, because it is what he wanted. He didn't get well for someone else, but those someone elses prompted him to enter wellness.
I think Steve-O values what he has now. I think he sees that life is a heck of a lot more than huffing nitrous and dropping PCP and drinking by the gallon, all at the same time. Maybe the fact that he has recorded most of his life on video since he was a teen has helped him gain some perspective about what he has done to himself. I think he has found his value. And, thank God he is brave enough to share those videos with a demographic struggling through more chemical influences than any other before them.
I encourage you to watch the show with your kids. DVR it, ask someone else to tape it or do whatever it takes to ensure you and your kids have a chance to see this show together and that you talk about it. Talk about it openly and be honest with your kids. Teach them what you want them to learn so they can protect themselves. You wont always be able to be there to assist them in making their decisions, so teach them how to do it for themselves. They will hear you and hopefully they will listen.
And if there is a next time experience for me, I will do something or say something. I will be smart enough to do it. I do not blame myself or anyone else for what **** did to herself. I do not wonder, "What if." I do know that she was not ready to make change for herself and the outcome proves it. But, if there is a next time, I will.
How awful to die alone and impaired. How much more awful to be the children left behind.
Monday, May 4, 2009
A Calming
We first met her the day she was born. Randy took us to the corner where she and her siblings were nursing while Marlene held our curious Amanda. Her mother, Misty, had known us for quite some time so she watched us cautiously as she allowed us to pick her up and greet her and welcome her into our family. When we gave her back, Misty carefully inspected her and began to clean her, and then Misty allowed us to pet her while we thanked her for being so generous to us. That was September 15, 1994.
We got to visit her whenever we wanted since Randy and Marlene lived just around the corner from our quarters at Fort Riley. She came to know us and her eyes were always lit up with excitement when she saw us. She was the oldest of the litter and bigger, even, than her brothers. She was the "little mother" of the litter.
She actually came to live with us the first week of November and from that moment she fit right into our home. She loved our Lahsa Apso Mimi and loved our baby, even though it took a little while for Amanda to warm up to her. Once they did team up, they were always together. Amanda even used to climb in her kennel and close the door, at which, Phoenix would bark her high-pitched "telling on you" bark she would come to be known for. Amanda would giggle uncontrolably at that.
She was a runner and would bolt out the door whenever she had the chance, especially in her younger years. Travis loved to take her out when he ran, but he never quite got the chance to do that as much as he wanted. She was his dog and she knew it, but she so loved me and Amanda.
She did great when we moved from Kansas to El Paso and then six weeks later to Glendale. While we were staying with my parents during the Haiti deployment, she scratched up the wood floors and managed to cause my father to fracture his foot. She escaped regularly and the neighbors came to know her and love her for her sweetness. They would call when she would walk up in their garage to hang out with them and then remind me of what a great dog she was.
Once we moved back to El Paso, she seemed to settle right down and that was just before her second birthday. She had mellowed and become a really great dog. She loved to walk with us and run and allowed our toddler kiddo to pull her around the house constantly, never complaining.
We lived on Biggs Field when Nolan was born and she instantly took a liking to the baby. She never growled at me when I came close to him, but everyone else was fair game. She would squeeze between Nolan and Travis when they would lay on a blanket and play and then put her "arm" over the baby and fall asleep, or she would rest her chin on his tummy while he kicked and cooed. When we would get ready to leave and we would have Nolan in his carseat, she would rest her chin on the edge of the seat and "babysit" him until it was time for her to go to her box so we could leave.
As he grew, she learned to love every baby and most toddlers who would visit our house. She loved when we moved to the house on Garcia Circle because she had a great back yard to roam that had no stickers and always had some kind of shade to lay in. She would try to eat our tomato plants and later our watermelon plants and happily jog away when we caught her, as if nothing had happened. She also refused to let me open the door late at night. She would stand between me and the door and growl with the hair on her back on-end if I ever reached for the knob. She also loved to escort the kids around the back yard, always watching them.
She lovingly accepted every dog I brought into the fold, and grieved for our Mimi when we had to put her to sleep at the age of thirteen. She adapted well to the new house and to Travis' coming and going for schools and deployments. During his second visit to Iraq she bacame deathly ill with an infection and had to have emergency surgery, from which she eventually recovered. She had to stay at the vet clinic for almost a week before she was allowed to come home and in that time, she won the hearts of everyone there, like always.
About a year later she began to have problems with her rear legs. We took her to the vet and were lucky enough to see Dr. McCabe at that visit. He knew everyting about her and suggested x-rays to see what was going on. He told us her spine was calcifying and that eventually she would lose feeling in her rear legs. He also told us what her body would eventually do as a result of the problem. He put her on medication which she was never able to adapt to, so for the sake of her digestive system and at the doctor's recommendation, we helped her lose five pounds and put her on fish oil. She did really well. Dr. McCabe told us then that her eyes still had a lot of life in them and she would let us know with her eyes when she was ready to go.
That was almost two years ago and I have been so grateful for that time. We have all had the chance to watch her age gracefully and loving her has taught the kids so much. When she had rough days, they would encourage her gently or wait for her patiently to get up so they could put her outside. They would lay on the floor with her when she needed extra affection or walk her to the corner and back so she could exercise her legs a bit. When she would fall, they learned how to help her up without hurting her. They loved her through those last two years. And up until last week, she still wanted to play and "tell on them" with her silly bark.
She'd had a rough weekend. She fell once badly Saturday and twice Sunday. At bedtime last night, it took Amanda and I half a slice of her favorite whole wheat bread and half an hour to coax her to her kennel. She didn't wake me up in the middle of the night to go potty like usual, and when the alarm went off at 6 this morning and I realized she hadn't barked for me to come get her at all, I knew something was wrong. She barely made it out of her box and it took a lot of guidance to help her outside. She fell again when she came in and I knew what I had to do.
I got her back in her bed, took Nolan to the doctor for his allergies, took him to school and asked Kori to help me get her to the vet. Phoenix always hated to be picked up, but she allowed me to do it today when I realized she would never be able to walk out to the truck. We got her settled and went to the vet.
The doctors at Northeast Veterinary were wonderful, like always, and allowed me to say my goodbyes and love her to the end. The doctor agreed the spark was gone from her eyes today. She never fought the catheter or her injections and she went quietly, with love.
I will truly miss our girl.
We got to visit her whenever we wanted since Randy and Marlene lived just around the corner from our quarters at Fort Riley. She came to know us and her eyes were always lit up with excitement when she saw us. She was the oldest of the litter and bigger, even, than her brothers. She was the "little mother" of the litter.
She actually came to live with us the first week of November and from that moment she fit right into our home. She loved our Lahsa Apso Mimi and loved our baby, even though it took a little while for Amanda to warm up to her. Once they did team up, they were always together. Amanda even used to climb in her kennel and close the door, at which, Phoenix would bark her high-pitched "telling on you" bark she would come to be known for. Amanda would giggle uncontrolably at that.
She was a runner and would bolt out the door whenever she had the chance, especially in her younger years. Travis loved to take her out when he ran, but he never quite got the chance to do that as much as he wanted. She was his dog and she knew it, but she so loved me and Amanda.
She did great when we moved from Kansas to El Paso and then six weeks later to Glendale. While we were staying with my parents during the Haiti deployment, she scratched up the wood floors and managed to cause my father to fracture his foot. She escaped regularly and the neighbors came to know her and love her for her sweetness. They would call when she would walk up in their garage to hang out with them and then remind me of what a great dog she was.
Once we moved back to El Paso, she seemed to settle right down and that was just before her second birthday. She had mellowed and become a really great dog. She loved to walk with us and run and allowed our toddler kiddo to pull her around the house constantly, never complaining.
We lived on Biggs Field when Nolan was born and she instantly took a liking to the baby. She never growled at me when I came close to him, but everyone else was fair game. She would squeeze between Nolan and Travis when they would lay on a blanket and play and then put her "arm" over the baby and fall asleep, or she would rest her chin on his tummy while he kicked and cooed. When we would get ready to leave and we would have Nolan in his carseat, she would rest her chin on the edge of the seat and "babysit" him until it was time for her to go to her box so we could leave.
As he grew, she learned to love every baby and most toddlers who would visit our house. She loved when we moved to the house on Garcia Circle because she had a great back yard to roam that had no stickers and always had some kind of shade to lay in. She would try to eat our tomato plants and later our watermelon plants and happily jog away when we caught her, as if nothing had happened. She also refused to let me open the door late at night. She would stand between me and the door and growl with the hair on her back on-end if I ever reached for the knob. She also loved to escort the kids around the back yard, always watching them.
She lovingly accepted every dog I brought into the fold, and grieved for our Mimi when we had to put her to sleep at the age of thirteen. She adapted well to the new house and to Travis' coming and going for schools and deployments. During his second visit to Iraq she bacame deathly ill with an infection and had to have emergency surgery, from which she eventually recovered. She had to stay at the vet clinic for almost a week before she was allowed to come home and in that time, she won the hearts of everyone there, like always.
About a year later she began to have problems with her rear legs. We took her to the vet and were lucky enough to see Dr. McCabe at that visit. He knew everyting about her and suggested x-rays to see what was going on. He told us her spine was calcifying and that eventually she would lose feeling in her rear legs. He also told us what her body would eventually do as a result of the problem. He put her on medication which she was never able to adapt to, so for the sake of her digestive system and at the doctor's recommendation, we helped her lose five pounds and put her on fish oil. She did really well. Dr. McCabe told us then that her eyes still had a lot of life in them and she would let us know with her eyes when she was ready to go.
That was almost two years ago and I have been so grateful for that time. We have all had the chance to watch her age gracefully and loving her has taught the kids so much. When she had rough days, they would encourage her gently or wait for her patiently to get up so they could put her outside. They would lay on the floor with her when she needed extra affection or walk her to the corner and back so she could exercise her legs a bit. When she would fall, they learned how to help her up without hurting her. They loved her through those last two years. And up until last week, she still wanted to play and "tell on them" with her silly bark.
She'd had a rough weekend. She fell once badly Saturday and twice Sunday. At bedtime last night, it took Amanda and I half a slice of her favorite whole wheat bread and half an hour to coax her to her kennel. She didn't wake me up in the middle of the night to go potty like usual, and when the alarm went off at 6 this morning and I realized she hadn't barked for me to come get her at all, I knew something was wrong. She barely made it out of her box and it took a lot of guidance to help her outside. She fell again when she came in and I knew what I had to do.
I got her back in her bed, took Nolan to the doctor for his allergies, took him to school and asked Kori to help me get her to the vet. Phoenix always hated to be picked up, but she allowed me to do it today when I realized she would never be able to walk out to the truck. We got her settled and went to the vet.
The doctors at Northeast Veterinary were wonderful, like always, and allowed me to say my goodbyes and love her to the end. The doctor agreed the spark was gone from her eyes today. She never fought the catheter or her injections and she went quietly, with love.
I will truly miss our girl.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Booberiffic
I knew this morning when I woke up there was just something in the air...
After my shower, I got dressed in the same manner to which I've become accustomed. I reached in the drawer and pulled out a black bra I haven't worn in a while. In fact, it must have been pretty cold the last time I wore it because that is the only thing which could justify the adjustment of the shoulder straps. Once I was locked and loaded in it, I realized my boobs could double as ear muffs. I readjusted the straps and my body temperature returned to normal, then I went and did my hair and it, shockingly, performed quite well today. About flipping time!
So, I puttered around the house and hung some laundry out. I cleaned toilets (bleah) and kind of organzied some things. I loaded the dishwasher and figured out what to make for dinner. You know, basic useless stuff. Brian had mentioned that there might be some viewings of the house today so I wanted to be ready.
After I finished puttering I was bored to tears so I decdied to head to WalMart for no real reason other than to putter around there. I went to the McDonald's inside and got a Diet Coke. I journeyed through the craft department to look at the scrapbooking markdowns (Martha Stewart stuff is being marked down!) and came across many interesting people.
I've mentioned before how annoying it is that women can't seem to find clothes to fit them. Since I turned 15, I have been every size from a 7 to a 26 and now linger somewhere in the middle. I can find clothes which fit me. Aside from fit, there is the lucky possibility that one's ensemble might actually flatter their body. I shoot for that. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't. Whatever, at least I make the effort.
Today was Ta-Ta Thursday. And, who doesn't love a great rack? Seriously, I appreciate the work a woman goes through to look good. Many of us really have to put some serious effort into looking put together while others (cows) roll out of bed looking like a million bucks. We don't like the ones who do. I do understand that when we girls look good, we feel fabulous and everyone wants that. I think one of the things men notice about a woman who looks good is the confidence she feels in knowing she hit the mark with her appearance. Knockers help us seal the deal.
So, today at the store there was a plentitude of ladies (ah-hem) weearing baby-doll t-shirts three sizes too small so they get the dreaded muffin-top, or the muffin-top's evil cousin, the hanging foldover. You know, that thing that happens when the belly overspills the top of the jeans/shorts/skirt, and in doing so, the spillage seems to fold itself and hang like a stuffed apron of skin about the midriff. There's an image for ya, consider it a gift. You're welcome.
Only slightly less striking than the belly waterfalls abounding the discount superstore was the wealth of ooohverstretched sildscreened images and phrases emblazoned across the milkers of our day's favorite fashion victims. Seriously, do you buy clothes with the sole mission of ruining them? Buy the right size, ladies, society will thank you for it!
So, when I was leaving the store with Diet Coke and chocolate cake in-hand, there were two ladies with their litters walking near my truck. Both ladies were well dressed as were the fourteen children about them, but the disaster about it all was the pregnant lady. She was wearing black capri pants and black ballet flats. She carried a very nice black bag which was no doubt stuffed with lots of snacks and items to entertain the little cherubs. Her hair was done nicely and her make-up was impeccable. Where then, was the trainwreck? Ah, her hormone engorged funbags ensconced in what my friend and I affectionately call, a "booby shirt."
We all have them, shirts which empower us and make us feel like we can, via our vessels of womanhood, conquer the world. They may be snug or low-cut. They might have built-in accessories which draw the eye to the region. You never know what you're gonna get and my booby shirt may be your fatal mistake, or vise-versa.
This particular booby shirt was a print featuring red, black and white. It had a small metal ring which gathered the fabric between the twins and forced the neckline into a vortex of cleavage. Seriously, I feared walking too close to her for fear I would be sucked in that valley and never return. It was clear that 47% of each melon was visible, with the nipple being the vulgarity guide. And, of course, remember she was pregnant, likely about six or seven months. She was workin' what she got, but those boobs were really distracting. Yikes. Yuck.
Once I got in the truck and pulled out, I chose to exit the lot to the south and travel between the restaurants since it tended to get me out of there quicker. Then, it got worse.
I was stopped at the stop sign near the Golden Corral when a family happened across the lot in front of me. There was a retired military guy (you know them when you see them if you got skillz) in his undershirt and stretchy shorts (to maximize the benefits of a buffet visit), what appeared to be three young adult children, and a lady who appeared to be older than retired guy, but not by much. Her hair was done nicely. She had on decent shoes and her make-up looked ok. And then, I realized it. She was wearing a mu-muu. In public, she was wearing a mu-muu and this is not the big island. What is worse than the mu-muu was the lack of a bra. No, it was not an ill-fitting bra. It was not an improperly sized bra. It was a non-existent bra. And, lets remember, we ain't talkin' 'bout no spring chick. She must have used the gals as bumpers to keep her tummy from hitting the table. Ick. Put them away!
So, take this as a bit of friendly advice. If you don't package the presents well, no one will see you as a prize.
After my shower, I got dressed in the same manner to which I've become accustomed. I reached in the drawer and pulled out a black bra I haven't worn in a while. In fact, it must have been pretty cold the last time I wore it because that is the only thing which could justify the adjustment of the shoulder straps. Once I was locked and loaded in it, I realized my boobs could double as ear muffs. I readjusted the straps and my body temperature returned to normal, then I went and did my hair and it, shockingly, performed quite well today. About flipping time!
So, I puttered around the house and hung some laundry out. I cleaned toilets (bleah) and kind of organzied some things. I loaded the dishwasher and figured out what to make for dinner. You know, basic useless stuff. Brian had mentioned that there might be some viewings of the house today so I wanted to be ready.
After I finished puttering I was bored to tears so I decdied to head to WalMart for no real reason other than to putter around there. I went to the McDonald's inside and got a Diet Coke. I journeyed through the craft department to look at the scrapbooking markdowns (Martha Stewart stuff is being marked down!) and came across many interesting people.
I've mentioned before how annoying it is that women can't seem to find clothes to fit them. Since I turned 15, I have been every size from a 7 to a 26 and now linger somewhere in the middle. I can find clothes which fit me. Aside from fit, there is the lucky possibility that one's ensemble might actually flatter their body. I shoot for that. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't. Whatever, at least I make the effort.
Today was Ta-Ta Thursday. And, who doesn't love a great rack? Seriously, I appreciate the work a woman goes through to look good. Many of us really have to put some serious effort into looking put together while others (cows) roll out of bed looking like a million bucks. We don't like the ones who do. I do understand that when we girls look good, we feel fabulous and everyone wants that. I think one of the things men notice about a woman who looks good is the confidence she feels in knowing she hit the mark with her appearance. Knockers help us seal the deal.
So, today at the store there was a plentitude of ladies (ah-hem) weearing baby-doll t-shirts three sizes too small so they get the dreaded muffin-top, or the muffin-top's evil cousin, the hanging foldover. You know, that thing that happens when the belly overspills the top of the jeans/shorts/skirt, and in doing so, the spillage seems to fold itself and hang like a stuffed apron of skin about the midriff. There's an image for ya, consider it a gift. You're welcome.
Only slightly less striking than the belly waterfalls abounding the discount superstore was the wealth of ooohverstretched sildscreened images and phrases emblazoned across the milkers of our day's favorite fashion victims. Seriously, do you buy clothes with the sole mission of ruining them? Buy the right size, ladies, society will thank you for it!
So, when I was leaving the store with Diet Coke and chocolate cake in-hand, there were two ladies with their litters walking near my truck. Both ladies were well dressed as were the fourteen children about them, but the disaster about it all was the pregnant lady. She was wearing black capri pants and black ballet flats. She carried a very nice black bag which was no doubt stuffed with lots of snacks and items to entertain the little cherubs. Her hair was done nicely and her make-up was impeccable. Where then, was the trainwreck? Ah, her hormone engorged funbags ensconced in what my friend and I affectionately call, a "booby shirt."
We all have them, shirts which empower us and make us feel like we can, via our vessels of womanhood, conquer the world. They may be snug or low-cut. They might have built-in accessories which draw the eye to the region. You never know what you're gonna get and my booby shirt may be your fatal mistake, or vise-versa.
This particular booby shirt was a print featuring red, black and white. It had a small metal ring which gathered the fabric between the twins and forced the neckline into a vortex of cleavage. Seriously, I feared walking too close to her for fear I would be sucked in that valley and never return. It was clear that 47% of each melon was visible, with the nipple being the vulgarity guide. And, of course, remember she was pregnant, likely about six or seven months. She was workin' what she got, but those boobs were really distracting. Yikes. Yuck.
Once I got in the truck and pulled out, I chose to exit the lot to the south and travel between the restaurants since it tended to get me out of there quicker. Then, it got worse.
I was stopped at the stop sign near the Golden Corral when a family happened across the lot in front of me. There was a retired military guy (you know them when you see them if you got skillz) in his undershirt and stretchy shorts (to maximize the benefits of a buffet visit), what appeared to be three young adult children, and a lady who appeared to be older than retired guy, but not by much. Her hair was done nicely. She had on decent shoes and her make-up looked ok. And then, I realized it. She was wearing a mu-muu. In public, she was wearing a mu-muu and this is not the big island. What is worse than the mu-muu was the lack of a bra. No, it was not an ill-fitting bra. It was not an improperly sized bra. It was a non-existent bra. And, lets remember, we ain't talkin' 'bout no spring chick. She must have used the gals as bumpers to keep her tummy from hitting the table. Ick. Put them away!
So, take this as a bit of friendly advice. If you don't package the presents well, no one will see you as a prize.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Lucky 13
Wow.This morning was our first regular open house with Brian. So far, here's a quick rundown of Brian's performance...
1) Signed the contract on Monday the 13th of April at 2pm.
2) Brian showed the house to a family on Monday the 13th of April at 4pm. That family liked our house along with another. Ultimately they decided to build a home just across the NM border, about 15 minutes from my neighborhood.
3) On Friday the 17th of April, Brian held our house open for the other Realtors from his agency. There was a good response and the cookies I made for the Realtors were a hit.
4) On Thursday the 23rd of April, Brian invited Realtors from the greater El Paso area to see the house. There was a good response from those who came. He fed them and left the remainder of the cheesecake bites in my freezer. My children now love Brian.
5) On Sunday the 26th of April at 10 am, Brian had the first open house for the public. Four families came to see the house as well as a family whose buying agent was at Brian's Realtor's tour of the house on Thursday. The family liked the house. A. WHOLE. LOT.
I decided to be patient and wait for Brian to call. Brian calls his clients weekly to update the status of their properties and last week he called Monday morning. I just expected to hear from him tomorrow. No problem.
I was watching "The Unit" and at 9:15 Brian texted me that the family who came today with their Realtor had written up a contract. He didn't have details at the time and only knew there was a contract. Today is the thirteenth day of the contract we signed with him.
I am almost speechless. I am doubtful that I will sleep tonight. I am on the verge of tears because I am pretty sure this nightmare is wrapping up.
I called Travis and woke him up (time difference). I prolly shoulda waited to call him until tomorrow, but I couldn't. He reacted in his typical manner- quiet reserve with a slight excitement.
This is very comforting.
1) Signed the contract on Monday the 13th of April at 2pm.
2) Brian showed the house to a family on Monday the 13th of April at 4pm. That family liked our house along with another. Ultimately they decided to build a home just across the NM border, about 15 minutes from my neighborhood.
3) On Friday the 17th of April, Brian held our house open for the other Realtors from his agency. There was a good response and the cookies I made for the Realtors were a hit.
4) On Thursday the 23rd of April, Brian invited Realtors from the greater El Paso area to see the house. There was a good response from those who came. He fed them and left the remainder of the cheesecake bites in my freezer. My children now love Brian.
5) On Sunday the 26th of April at 10 am, Brian had the first open house for the public. Four families came to see the house as well as a family whose buying agent was at Brian's Realtor's tour of the house on Thursday. The family liked the house. A. WHOLE. LOT.
I decided to be patient and wait for Brian to call. Brian calls his clients weekly to update the status of their properties and last week he called Monday morning. I just expected to hear from him tomorrow. No problem.
I was watching "The Unit" and at 9:15 Brian texted me that the family who came today with their Realtor had written up a contract. He didn't have details at the time and only knew there was a contract. Today is the thirteenth day of the contract we signed with him.
I am almost speechless. I am doubtful that I will sleep tonight. I am on the verge of tears because I am pretty sure this nightmare is wrapping up.
I called Travis and woke him up (time difference). I prolly shoulda waited to call him until tomorrow, but I couldn't. He reacted in his typical manner- quiet reserve with a slight excitement.
This is very comforting.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
So They Say
She's going to be sixteen soon. Not right away, but much sooner than I would like. I remember vividly, as do all mothers, the day she was born. I remember knowing I was pregnant before I was even late. Actually, I thought I was either pregnant or that I had mono again. I remember taking my pregnancy test and Travis' quiet and very reserved reaction. He was happy, but unsure of what laid ahead of us.
She's pretty cool, my kid. I don't tell her enough, and I know that. She is so smart and in love with music and reading. She is in a stage of constant evolution. She shocked the crap out of us last year when she said she wanted to try out for cheer. Then she did it again when she said she wanted to wrestle. She's a good friend to the kids she knows- many times I think she is better than some of them deserve. She's a good student partly because we gently push her to achieve and partly because she wants to go somewhere in this world. She is very much her own person.
When she was very young, everyone told us how much she looked like Travis. I still think she does. Now that she is getting older, people are starting to tell us how much she looks like me. I don't see it, but I'll take it. I think she is gorgeous and if I EVER looked like her, I was doin' pretty good. However, Amanda hates hearing about how much she looks like me. She doesn't mind hearing how much she looks like her father. I'm going to refrain from saying mean things about that. I think, more than anything, she just wants to look like her. That's OK too.
Since she was a tiny baby she's had this independent streak. Before we had her, I always dreamed of having a baby who would lay its little head on my shoulder when strangers would approach, or when it was tired or just because it wanted to. Amanda was not that baby. She came into this world with her big blue eyes wide open and that has never changed. She doesn't miss much because there is so much to take in and she is usually right on top of it, or better yet, in the middle of it.
That independence has made a number of people make predictions about her. "You'll have problems with her when she gets older." "That one, you'll have to worry about her." "Why IS she like THAT?" And those are just a smidge of what I've heard. Most of it wasn't said maliciously, but it has always pissed me off. Why can't she just be who she is? Sure, she's going to exhibit some of my personality traits and some of Travis', and maybe some of other family members, but she is unique unto herself. And, why is that not OK?
I'm never going to be willing to listen to what I hear about the kind of person she is. From the beginning, even though she has been our daughter, she has been her own person. Why do some seem so insistent to peg her with "who" she is more like. She's like her. And, I love that the predictions we've heard are largely not coming true.
I'm no fool, I know she is only 15 and there is plenty of time for her to completely change I also know that the move, when and if it ever happens, will have tremendous impact on her in a myriad of ways. That said, I know she's up for the challenge. She is ready to go. She is ready to embrace a new home, different from any she remembers. And she will deal with the loss of the world she's created for herself here, and that might really take some time, but she'll get through it.The reason she'll get through it is the very thing people warned us about. She's got to have the chance to feel the loss and work through it and her immersion in her new world has to happen on her terms too. I don't know if she'll jump right in and pick up like she never really left El Paso behind or if she'll be going slow so she can assess the situation and make decisions before committing to anything. I'm just going to have to remember not to push h
er because this is HER experience.
er because this is HER experience.Yes, she is independent. Yes, she is a redhead and what they say about redheads is true. She might look a bit like me or a lot like her Daddy. But, she is amazing just because she is herself. She is Amanda.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Junk
I don't really have anything particularly important to say, but for some reason feel as if I need to say something. So, whatever, I'll just roll with the junk stuck in my head...
1. Who cares about the First Family's dog? Really, is it a matter of national security that their "rescued" dog came from a breeder to whom the dog had been returned after its first family didn't gel with it? I have had rescued dogs, neither of whom came from a shelter. I consider both of them as having been resuced because at the time I obtained them, they were in bad circumstances. They both lived with families with children, one family just didn't like one of the dogs and the other family thought the dog was the most stupid thing they ever saw and threatened to kill her if they didn't get her a home that day. How is that good for a dog? If a family is a bad fit for a dog, and the dog winds up in a less than desirable environment and another family takes that dog, it is a rescue. The Obamas had to choose carefully because of health concerns for one of their daughters. When was the last time you saw a Portuguese Water Dog at the pound?
2. My house had been on the market with my previous Realtor for 27 weeks. My house has been on the market with the new Realtor for a week. In that week, my house has been shown to a family and just over a half-dozen Realtors. It has a virtual tour on the Internet. Last week, we came very close to having an offer put on the house. So, in one twenty-seventh the amount of time, the new Realtor has had half as many people see the house as the last one had in 27 weeks and has almost gotten an offer. I have learned so, so much and I will blog about that later.
3. I am tired. I am tired like I haven't been in five years. That's tired.
4. Although there are lots of things and people in El Paso that I will miss when we do get to move (again, another blog alltogether), I am ready to go. I have come to seriously dislike El Paso and am fighting the urge to say that I hate it here. But, I really think I do.
5. Someone in a circle of mine, whom I am not close to has done something stupid. I do not know if this person did so for attention or did so because they are ill or some combination of the two or what. What I do know is that someone they love is trying to guilt them into doing what they "should" do. What is ironic is that that same loved one did things very similar to the circle person years ago. It was forever ago, but now the loved one is throwing stones. That is but one of the many reasons that loved one of the circle person and I will never be close.
6. There was a time in my life I craved relationships with two people. I would have given almost anything to be close to them. And, when I say anything, I mean anything. Now, I am at the point where I have gained some clarity and I am grateful that those relationships never materialized into anything. My life is less complicated and I am safer for that nothingness. It took me many years for me to have the vision to see that my life is better this way.
7. I've been making menu plans in my head for when we move. Seriously, I've been spinning through my mental recipe rolodex for the last two weeks. I think I could cook for six months and never make the same thing twice once we get there. Travis has no idea how awesome his culinary experience is going to be.
8. I am super aggrivated with the new policy requiring my to lift my sunglasses when entering the gates on Fort Bliss. I do understand the importance of the guards being able to identify persons entering the gates based upon the identification they provide, but lets aim for some consistency, here. According to the guard I spoke with when I finally asked what the purpose was in my doing so, I was told, "The new Colonel doesn't believe we can identify people well enough when they are wearing dark sunglasses." Great. Let me add, my sunglasses are not dark, nor are they an accessory. They are prescription and I need them since I can't legally drive by Braille. It would also be helpful if the guards charged with ensuring the security of one of the world's premiere military installations would actually look at the picture on my ID and my face to see if there is some resemblance there. I would appreciate it if all the guards would follow the same protocol. Some ask them to be lifted, others that they be removed, others don't ask for their removal at all. Consistency, people, that's all I ask.
9. I am disgusted with myself because my goal was to have all my pre-move decrappification done by this point. I have dented it, but am not anywhere near done. I have way too much crap in this house and need to start with a week-long shredding party. I also need to get off my butt and start taking things to the thrift shop again. It gets the stuff out of the house and out of my hair and I make a couple bucks. Win-win. I have two bags of stuff sitting in the family room waiting to go. They've been waiting for two weeks. What's the delay?
10. This is TAKS testing week in Texas. Actually, I think there may have been some tests administered earlier than this week. This is the first week which affects my kids. I hate TAKS testing because the kids get freaked out because the teachers get freaked out because the administrators put the pressure they are handed from the districts on them and all-in-all, the people who lose out are the kids. Testing is necessary and I understand that. But, the benchmarks being tested need to be the benchmarks being taught and at least in Texas, they do not match up. Somehow, someone with an educatonal doctorate somewhere needs to pay attention to that and do something about it.
11. Don't be calling my house warning me that this is TAKS season and that my children need to get enough sleep and eat properly so that they will perform well. Let me say this... You don't need to call my home and tell me that. Maybe you should go to WalMart around 11:30 or midnight and find the kids still wearing their uniforms from your school and talk to their parents while they are purchasing their new plastic spinner rim inserts they so desperately need.
12. I really missed scrapbooking. I went to the Waiting Families scrapping this weekend and although I was going out of my mind because of the crazy going on there, I enjoyed working on my books. I came home from the three hour class and finished one page, then did three more. I need to do this more. I felt relaxed and like I accomplished something.
13. I want more brown fat in my body. Sounds like a good deal.
14. I am getting out my Turbo-Cooker to make dinner for the night. I haven't used my TC for about four years and can't find my recipe cards. Wish me luck.
15. I don't want to clean my kitchen.I guess that's enough for now. Barbara Walters is now talking about men with premature ejaculation on the View right now and I think I need to go puke.
Bleah.
1. Who cares about the First Family's dog? Really, is it a matter of national security that their "rescued" dog came from a breeder to whom the dog had been returned after its first family didn't gel with it? I have had rescued dogs, neither of whom came from a shelter. I consider both of them as having been resuced because at the time I obtained them, they were in bad circumstances. They both lived with families with children, one family just didn't like one of the dogs and the other family thought the dog was the most stupid thing they ever saw and threatened to kill her if they didn't get her a home that day. How is that good for a dog? If a family is a bad fit for a dog, and the dog winds up in a less than desirable environment and another family takes that dog, it is a rescue. The Obamas had to choose carefully because of health concerns for one of their daughters. When was the last time you saw a Portuguese Water Dog at the pound?
2. My house had been on the market with my previous Realtor for 27 weeks. My house has been on the market with the new Realtor for a week. In that week, my house has been shown to a family and just over a half-dozen Realtors. It has a virtual tour on the Internet. Last week, we came very close to having an offer put on the house. So, in one twenty-seventh the amount of time, the new Realtor has had half as many people see the house as the last one had in 27 weeks and has almost gotten an offer. I have learned so, so much and I will blog about that later.
3. I am tired. I am tired like I haven't been in five years. That's tired.
4. Although there are lots of things and people in El Paso that I will miss when we do get to move (again, another blog alltogether), I am ready to go. I have come to seriously dislike El Paso and am fighting the urge to say that I hate it here. But, I really think I do.
5. Someone in a circle of mine, whom I am not close to has done something stupid. I do not know if this person did so for attention or did so because they are ill or some combination of the two or what. What I do know is that someone they love is trying to guilt them into doing what they "should" do. What is ironic is that that same loved one did things very similar to the circle person years ago. It was forever ago, but now the loved one is throwing stones. That is but one of the many reasons that loved one of the circle person and I will never be close.
6. There was a time in my life I craved relationships with two people. I would have given almost anything to be close to them. And, when I say anything, I mean anything. Now, I am at the point where I have gained some clarity and I am grateful that those relationships never materialized into anything. My life is less complicated and I am safer for that nothingness. It took me many years for me to have the vision to see that my life is better this way.
7. I've been making menu plans in my head for when we move. Seriously, I've been spinning through my mental recipe rolodex for the last two weeks. I think I could cook for six months and never make the same thing twice once we get there. Travis has no idea how awesome his culinary experience is going to be.
8. I am super aggrivated with the new policy requiring my to lift my sunglasses when entering the gates on Fort Bliss. I do understand the importance of the guards being able to identify persons entering the gates based upon the identification they provide, but lets aim for some consistency, here. According to the guard I spoke with when I finally asked what the purpose was in my doing so, I was told, "The new Colonel doesn't believe we can identify people well enough when they are wearing dark sunglasses." Great. Let me add, my sunglasses are not dark, nor are they an accessory. They are prescription and I need them since I can't legally drive by Braille. It would also be helpful if the guards charged with ensuring the security of one of the world's premiere military installations would actually look at the picture on my ID and my face to see if there is some resemblance there. I would appreciate it if all the guards would follow the same protocol. Some ask them to be lifted, others that they be removed, others don't ask for their removal at all. Consistency, people, that's all I ask.
9. I am disgusted with myself because my goal was to have all my pre-move decrappification done by this point. I have dented it, but am not anywhere near done. I have way too much crap in this house and need to start with a week-long shredding party. I also need to get off my butt and start taking things to the thrift shop again. It gets the stuff out of the house and out of my hair and I make a couple bucks. Win-win. I have two bags of stuff sitting in the family room waiting to go. They've been waiting for two weeks. What's the delay?
10. This is TAKS testing week in Texas. Actually, I think there may have been some tests administered earlier than this week. This is the first week which affects my kids. I hate TAKS testing because the kids get freaked out because the teachers get freaked out because the administrators put the pressure they are handed from the districts on them and all-in-all, the people who lose out are the kids. Testing is necessary and I understand that. But, the benchmarks being tested need to be the benchmarks being taught and at least in Texas, they do not match up. Somehow, someone with an educatonal doctorate somewhere needs to pay attention to that and do something about it.
11. Don't be calling my house warning me that this is TAKS season and that my children need to get enough sleep and eat properly so that they will perform well. Let me say this... You don't need to call my home and tell me that. Maybe you should go to WalMart around 11:30 or midnight and find the kids still wearing their uniforms from your school and talk to their parents while they are purchasing their new plastic spinner rim inserts they so desperately need.
12. I really missed scrapbooking. I went to the Waiting Families scrapping this weekend and although I was going out of my mind because of the crazy going on there, I enjoyed working on my books. I came home from the three hour class and finished one page, then did three more. I need to do this more. I felt relaxed and like I accomplished something.
13. I want more brown fat in my body. Sounds like a good deal.
14. I am getting out my Turbo-Cooker to make dinner for the night. I haven't used my TC for about four years and can't find my recipe cards. Wish me luck.
15. I don't want to clean my kitchen.I guess that's enough for now. Barbara Walters is now talking about men with premature ejaculation on the View right now and I think I need to go puke.
Bleah.
Friday, April 17, 2009
You KNOW Me
Today was the Realtor's agency tour of the house. I don't know how that went, but I do know that as I was driving down the main drag outside our 'hood on the way to the house I saw my Realtor driving in the same direction. Yes, I am certain it was him. He's the only guy around with a red Ford truck and a yellow and green magnet on the side that reads, "Elect Brian Burds- City Council, District 4." He passed me, got in the turn lane at the light and went into our area. I drove down to another street and circled back to the house. Sure enough, an hour after he was to have been done at my house, he was bringing someone back to it with him. I watched them go in from down the street and then went and got a Diet Coke from Whataburger. I don't know what happened, but hey, he's bringing 'em in and that's all I ask. Sooner or later someone is going to be the right person and we can't find them if they aren't walking through my door. Pom-pons, ladies and gentlemen. Wave them high and proud for Brian! Oh, and vote for him- early voting begins April 26.
So, anyway, back to the day's story... I left Phoenix, the 15 year old Husky at home cuz she wont bug nobody that wont bug her. I took the little dogs with me, who will bark when peeps are here. Peeps were on the way and I didn't want them bugging the peeps. As I was pulling out of the neighborhood, I was on the phone with my mother when the other line beeped in. I didn't get switched over in time, but it was Nolan's school. Phone calls from school during the day are rarely wonderful news. He left me a voicemail and as I was listening, I got mad. Crazy-mad. Why? Read on...
Nolan didn't sound great, he sounded very tired and boogery. He said, "Mom, this is Nolan (duh, I know his voice, even if it is boogery). I am in the nurse's office because I think I am getting a cold. She took my tembater and it was 98.7, which isn't a fever. I have a lot of boogers and I- (I hear static on the line, and then the voice changes)" "Ma'am, please call the nurse's office. The number is 434- blah-blah-blah-blah." She didn't know that I know THAT particular number by heart. She got it wrong. That wasn't the problem. She took the phone out of my kids' hand and shut him up.
Here's the deal; if my kid's condition is such that it warrants a call home, fine. I don't mind. He's my kid and when he needs me, I am there. When he is sick, I care for him. If he is boogery, he gets Kleenex and Sudafed and Claratin and whatever else he might need. Regardless of whether or not he picked up his dirty socks, he's going to get what he needs. NO. MATTER. WHAT. But, if his condition does indeed warrant a call home, and you have him make the initial contact (again, fine), then you let the kid say what he is saying. That's all. Just let him talk. If you aren't going to make the call yourself and initiate dialogue adult to adult, then don't take the friggin' phone out of my kid's hand and sigh into the handset and ask me to call you. He was in the middle of a sentence. That is rude by any standard. I work too hard on the kid to have you help him un-learn his manners. As big a pain in the nalgas as he can be, and he can be un pain in the nalgas muy gigante (say it HEE-gahn-tay), he has manners and they are awesome manners. Teachers who have not loved my son have even pointed out that he is most respectful of adults. I want him to stay that way and you aren't helping. I called right back as soon as I heard the message and spoke with the nurse who told me he thought he had a cold. Then she told me that he asked to go home. Now, I knew that was a crock. My kids know if they come home from school sick, they're going to bed. There will be no GameBoys, no Wii, no TV, no books, no Legos, no Magnetix, and no nothin' else except their pillow and blankie on their bed. I don't screw around. I asked to speak with him because I knew his allergy meds (which I was certain was the problem) were at the house, where Brian was with the Realtors and where I couldn't be. I told Nolan he would have to wait until I could get back to the house and he was fine with it. When I asked him if he asked to go home, he denied having asked. He even told me he knew he would have to go to bed and all he wanted was something to help him feel better. What a cow.
I went to the school and had him called to the office so I could give him his allergy medicine. He had reddish eyes and a boogery voice. He took his pill and gave me a hug and when I asked him if the nurse had taken the phone from his hand, he said she did. When I asked him if she was rude to him, he said she wouldn't let him get within five feet of her desk. I had him clarify what that meant and he said that he came in and walked up to her desk to ask for her help and she held her hand up and gestured for him to step back and then she told him he had to stay five feet back from the desk. What the heck? This is an elementary school. ELEMENTARY! Maybe he doesn't want everyone within earshot to hear him request the hurse's help. What if the problem were of a personal nature? Certainly she's heard of the Privacy Act? What a royal cow. Five feet. What is that for? Is she trying to avoid coming in contact with a kid who might have something infectious? Ding, ding, hear the bell, moron, you're a nurse. If she doesnt' want her desk bombarded by kids, then manage the area well. It isn't that hard. It is a school. Most of the attendees are well accustomed to things like line making and the standing therein and the mindboggling practice of shushing when shushed. Cow. COW. COOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Moo.
As I was leaving, I made a request to the receptionist that an administrator call me. I am NOT having some friggin' nurse treat my kid that way. Ever. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Nurse Trudy, who is out of school because she was mauled by dogs. Stupid dogs. Stupid substitute nurse cow.
She is but the next in a long line of people who had to learn the hard way NOT to treat my kids badly.
So, anyway, back to the day's story... I left Phoenix, the 15 year old Husky at home cuz she wont bug nobody that wont bug her. I took the little dogs with me, who will bark when peeps are here. Peeps were on the way and I didn't want them bugging the peeps. As I was pulling out of the neighborhood, I was on the phone with my mother when the other line beeped in. I didn't get switched over in time, but it was Nolan's school. Phone calls from school during the day are rarely wonderful news. He left me a voicemail and as I was listening, I got mad. Crazy-mad. Why? Read on...
Nolan didn't sound great, he sounded very tired and boogery. He said, "Mom, this is Nolan (duh, I know his voice, even if it is boogery). I am in the nurse's office because I think I am getting a cold. She took my tembater and it was 98.7, which isn't a fever. I have a lot of boogers and I- (I hear static on the line, and then the voice changes)" "Ma'am, please call the nurse's office. The number is 434- blah-blah-blah-blah." She didn't know that I know THAT particular number by heart. She got it wrong. That wasn't the problem. She took the phone out of my kids' hand and shut him up.
Here's the deal; if my kid's condition is such that it warrants a call home, fine. I don't mind. He's my kid and when he needs me, I am there. When he is sick, I care for him. If he is boogery, he gets Kleenex and Sudafed and Claratin and whatever else he might need. Regardless of whether or not he picked up his dirty socks, he's going to get what he needs. NO. MATTER. WHAT. But, if his condition does indeed warrant a call home, and you have him make the initial contact (again, fine), then you let the kid say what he is saying. That's all. Just let him talk. If you aren't going to make the call yourself and initiate dialogue adult to adult, then don't take the friggin' phone out of my kid's hand and sigh into the handset and ask me to call you. He was in the middle of a sentence. That is rude by any standard. I work too hard on the kid to have you help him un-learn his manners. As big a pain in the nalgas as he can be, and he can be un pain in the nalgas muy gigante (say it HEE-gahn-tay), he has manners and they are awesome manners. Teachers who have not loved my son have even pointed out that he is most respectful of adults. I want him to stay that way and you aren't helping. I called right back as soon as I heard the message and spoke with the nurse who told me he thought he had a cold. Then she told me that he asked to go home. Now, I knew that was a crock. My kids know if they come home from school sick, they're going to bed. There will be no GameBoys, no Wii, no TV, no books, no Legos, no Magnetix, and no nothin' else except their pillow and blankie on their bed. I don't screw around. I asked to speak with him because I knew his allergy meds (which I was certain was the problem) were at the house, where Brian was with the Realtors and where I couldn't be. I told Nolan he would have to wait until I could get back to the house and he was fine with it. When I asked him if he asked to go home, he denied having asked. He even told me he knew he would have to go to bed and all he wanted was something to help him feel better. What a cow.
I went to the school and had him called to the office so I could give him his allergy medicine. He had reddish eyes and a boogery voice. He took his pill and gave me a hug and when I asked him if the nurse had taken the phone from his hand, he said she did. When I asked him if she was rude to him, he said she wouldn't let him get within five feet of her desk. I had him clarify what that meant and he said that he came in and walked up to her desk to ask for her help and she held her hand up and gestured for him to step back and then she told him he had to stay five feet back from the desk. What the heck? This is an elementary school. ELEMENTARY! Maybe he doesn't want everyone within earshot to hear him request the hurse's help. What if the problem were of a personal nature? Certainly she's heard of the Privacy Act? What a royal cow. Five feet. What is that for? Is she trying to avoid coming in contact with a kid who might have something infectious? Ding, ding, hear the bell, moron, you're a nurse. If she doesnt' want her desk bombarded by kids, then manage the area well. It isn't that hard. It is a school. Most of the attendees are well accustomed to things like line making and the standing therein and the mindboggling practice of shushing when shushed. Cow. COW. COOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Moo.
As I was leaving, I made a request to the receptionist that an administrator call me. I am NOT having some friggin' nurse treat my kid that way. Ever. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Nurse Trudy, who is out of school because she was mauled by dogs. Stupid dogs. Stupid substitute nurse cow.
She is but the next in a long line of people who had to learn the hard way NOT to treat my kids badly.
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