Is it a sex blog? A mommy blog? A bitch & moan blog? Um, . . . yeah. This is my place to be totally honest. In my real life, I feel like I'm always lying to somebody about something. Here, I am totally honest. Brutally so. However, no matter what bad things I say about my kids, I adore them and would never ever really, say, sell them on Ebay. The husband, often referred to as Spousehole, is another story. Oh yeah - if you are under 18 (or if you are my husband), please leave now.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings

  1. Groceries :: need some

  2. Deodorant :: need that too

  3. Psychic ::Friends Network

  4. Cherries ::Jubilee!

  5. Spooky ::haunted house

  6. Yogurt :: sauce

  7. Kitchen :: hot

  8. Nothing personal :: LIAR

  9. Be nice :: to your sister/brother! (Yelled around here a lot)

  10. Delivery :: pizza
To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Friday, August 29, 2008


Apparently I'm the only one not terribly shocked about McCain's pick of Sarah Palin as his running mate. Not her specifically, though I was aware that she is considered a top up-and-coming young Republican. I knew he was going to go with a chick - anyone who thought he wouldn't was deluded. After all, you can't run against Obama's "historic-ness" without a "politically-correct" pick of your own. Christie Todd Whitman was mentioned, but she was tainted by her flame-out as EPA administrator. Carly Fiorina's name was also bandied about, but she's got baggage from her HP days. Palin won beat a sitting governor in the primary in Alaska and a former governor in the general election, so she's a darling of the Republican Party currently. I think McCain's thinking that women who are pissed that Hillary isn't on the Dem ticket will go Republican because he's got a chick on the ticket.

He's wrong. Hillary supporters are disappointed, but not insane. They aren't going to jump on the McSame bandwagon just because he has a cute girl on the ticket. Sorry. It's just not that simple.

I will say this for McCain's choice, however: it has much more of a "wow" factor than Obama's pick of Biden.

P.S. I generally try to keep up with political stuff, but I am embarrassed to say that I saw the following bumper sticker on a car yesterday and had to come home and look up this candidate on the web. I had no clue who he was. Doh!To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

TMI Tuesday - It's Still Tuesday, Right?

Click the icon to come play with us!

You find a fairy. With a wave of their wand they can change anything for you.

What is the one thing you would change about your body?

My weight!! OMG - Reducing my weight to something much more reasonable (in my eyes) would effect a number of other positive changes as well. I would look and feel better and be much healthier. I see no downside to it. Okay, my boobs would shrink, but that's the trade-off I guess.

What is the one personality trait you would change?

My stubbornness. It gets me in trouble all the time.

What is the one thing about your job you would change?

I would have one and not be home with my kids, who are driving me insane lately. We are all under a lot of stress.

What is the one thing about your home you would change?

It would be sold to someone else for close to my asking price.

What is the one thing about your Significant Other you would change?

His stubbornness. Stubborn meets stubborn and all hell breaks loose.

Who is the one person you would poof out of your life and why?

My father-in-law. He's been a real pain-in-the-ass lately. He's been very, very helpful to me in many ways with Spousehole gone and all, but he's the type of person who never lets you forget that he's doing you a favor. And he has nothing but criticism for Spousehole and I end up defending Spousehole, quite the unusual position for me. I hate being dragged into their crap.

Who is the one person you would poof back in and why?

My grandmother. She died in 1980 and nothing's been the same since. My mother still isn't over it. She's lost both her parents and her only sibling (who was younger than her). That's a hard place to be in at a fairly young age. I think sometimes she feels very alone, even with my dad, my sister, me, and our kids. Her family of origin is gone and that's hard.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Monday, August 25, 2008

Nerves - AACK!

Man-o-man, this isn't good.

I'm getting a serious case of nervousness about this move. I'm jittery, can't sleep, a little panicky and very irritable. Spousehole has been pissing me off something terrible. I really must bone up on my ESP skills, because my failure to read his mind has been a real problem lately. My failure to do anything right, in his eyes, is also a problem. I'm totally f-ing worthless, I guess.

I have so much to do and so little time in which to do it. The movers are coming either September 8 or September 9 (it's not the most exact business in the world) and I feel like there's no way I can be ready. I have so much to pack and the kids make doing so VERY difficult. I figured I'd get a lot done next weekend if my in-laws took the kids for the long weekend, but they don't want to take the kids if I don't come up too. While I love boating, swimming, and sitting around drinking as much as the next person, I really have too much sh-- to do. Maybe they'll agree to take the kids Friday and I'll drive up Sunday morning. That way they aren't alone with them the whole time. IDK - we'll see.

I've been coming in contact with a lot of people from high school on Facebook this past week. (Under my real name, not the profile under my blog identity). An old boyfriend and I re-connected. I was a tad surprised to find that he's now only dating men. Not that there's anything wrong with that - but he spent all of high school denying that he was gay (and trying to get into my pants). I'm glad he's finally being honest with himself.

Back to the inexactness of the movers, one of the things I have been trying to explain to Spousehole is that our furniture, and everything else, may not arrive very quickly. We have a delivery date of "Sept 11 - Sept 17." That's right, almost a week between possibly delivery dates. Anyway, Spousehole didn't get that movers may have 2-3 households on one truck and they may have to stop and unload someone else's stuff before getting to us in S.C. That's also why they don't give an exact date for loading, since it may take longer to load someone ahead of us than they plan. I would hate to be a logistics manager for a moving company. I get overwhelmed just THINKING about it!

After I explained how that works, Spousehole understood why we need to bring sleeping bags and more than just one change of clothes (I don't want to be at a laundromat every day washing the previous day's clothes - for up to a week.) I think we are going to have to get one of those "turtle" things for the top of the minivan to carry all our crap. We also have to take all cleaning supplies in the car, as well as the propane tank from the grill. The movers won't take those because they could explode in the un-temperature-regulated truck. Great. And no, I'm not leaving my propane tank; it's not one of those "trade it in" types - it's designed just for my Weber grill and has the "quick-connect" valves and stuff. It's heavy-duty and too good to leave behind.

He's now also complaining about the time he will have to take off work to drive with us. It was his stupid idea in the first place!!! Yes, my dad became a big proponent of the plan, but Spousehole was the one who first raised the idea. But the aggravation it is causing is all my fault of course. Everything is always my fault.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings

Unconscious Mutterings - come play with us!

  1. Cry :: the Beloved Country

  2. Stretch :: waistband

  3. Efficient :: not me!

  4. Brunch :: Mimosas

  5. Afro :: I haz one this summer

  6. Preheat :: oven

  7. Delicious :: Lindt truffles

  8. Global warming :: bad

  9. Actions :: speak louder than words

  10. Ride :: a cowboy!

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Oh, What Have I Done?

Yipes. How do I let myself get talked into these things?

Spousehole had suggested that he fly up and then drive down to S.C. with the kids, cats, and me. I thought it was a terrible idea. We would surely fight if we were cooped up in a vehicle together for 16 hours. It was be miserable and claustrophobia inducing. 4 people, 2 cats, 16 hours. Even worse, he wanted to drive it straight through without an overnight stop. Eight hours for me, eight hours for him. I could think of nothing more miserable. I told him that it would cost more money to fly him up than it would for the kids and I to stop for the night in a motel that takes cats. That worked. Spousehole hates to waste money, so the idea was dropped. Praise the Lord and Hallelujah!

I've told you all how much I adore my Dad, right? I have the best Daddy in the whole entire world. He would do anything for me or my kids (or my sister and her son). When my Dad talks, I listen. 9 times out of 10 he is right.

But this time, I think he was wrong and I let myself get talked into something I will regret.

Being a dad who worries about his baby girl and who has traveled long distances with unhappy pets and knows how insane they can be, he was pissed when he learned I had talked Spousehole out of flying up and driving with the kids and me. "The kids will be easier to deal with when you have another adult in the car. The cats will be easier to calm," he argued. I made my arguments about using the DVD player in the van to entertain the children, the fact that the cats will just go to sleep after a time, and that Spousehole and I will argue to the point of wanting to kill one another if we are cooped up that long together. He could not be dissuaded. I pointed out that with the cost of movers and the fact that Spousehole's company is giving us a mere pittance toward the move expenses (less than 25%), we just couldn't justify the cost. Then Dad starts in with "What if you get sick on the way down?" which is father-of-a-diabetic-speak for "What if the stress fucks up your blood sugar so bad that you crash the car and kill yourself, your children and your cats?" That's it Dad: prey on one of my greatest fears, however very, VERY unlikely since I regulate my blood sugars very well thankyouverymuch and have never, ever had a hypoglycemic episode while driving. Then, the coup-de-grace: "I'll pay for his ticket to fly up here. Just do it. Go book the ticket right now."

So without even discussing it with Spousehole, I sat down at the computer, got the cheapest one-way fare I could find and booked it. It will SUCK for Spousehole, because he has to change planes twice(!) but oh well. It was cheap, cheap, cheap. I will have to drive to an airport in another town 40 minutes away to pick him up because I saved $75 flying him there instead of our town, but the gas cost is still much less than that. And he will be here for my birthday, which is bonus. I doubt he'll get me a gift or anything crazy like that, but hopefully he will be nice to me. After all, I'll be an old lady and one must be nice to the elderly, right?

So despite my extreme misgivings, we are all driving down to S.C. together. One big happy. Right. Spousehole didn't even complain about me booking a plane ticket without discussing it with him. And about me booking a flight on a Friday (cheaper than Saturday) without first checking if he could take the time off work. Weird. Of course he was thoroughly pissed at me about some other things, so maybe buying him a plane ticket without discussing it with him was the least of the concerns in his eyes.

Gawd, I am seriously dreading this trip. I was kind of looking forward to driving with the kids and cats - in a "we're on an adventure!" and "I'm master of my own destiny!" kind of way. Now I'm just foreseeing being trapped in a vehicle with my perpetually pissed-off partner and our petulant, peevish progeny. Not pleasant. Not at all.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I'm a Calvin?

Found this at As Seen from Up Here, the blog of my favorite very tall Chicagoan!

Your result for The Calvin Or Hobbes Test...

Mostly Calvin

You are 70% Calvin and 30% Hobbes

Your inner Calvin often prevails, but, as in the image below, you have a significant Hobbesian component. I'm going to try to stretch the visual metaphor here: you have a good head on your shoulders, but when you don't use it, your crazy body gets you in trouble? Does that work? Odds are you're impulsive and imaginative, but it's possible you've collected just enough wisdom to hold your most anti-social urges in check. Most of the time. It's a precarious balance, like a boy on one foot with a tiger head.

Take The Calvin Or Hobbes Test at HelloQuizzy

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Wednesday Weirdness

1.) You just bought a snazzy new leather jacket for an awesome price at the local outlet shop. When you got it home you found $2000 (cash) in the jacket's inner pocket. What are you going to do?

If I got it somewhere that the previous owner would be traceable (like a consignment shop), I would contact the store and ask them to have the previous owner contact me because I found something in the jacket that they might want back.

If it was someplace where stuff was donated anonymously, the cash is mine and I heading out to get leather chaps to match the jacket.

If it was a retail shop and the jacket was new, then I have no idea how the cash got there and I'm keeping it and heading out to find those chaps.

2.) If you could change or eliminate one wedding tradition, what would it be? What is your favorite wedding tradition?

As I'm sure many would say, I'm all about getting rid of the cake-face smashing thing. We did not do that at our wedding and I'm very glad. It's childish and stupid. What a disrespectful way to start a life with someone.

My favorite wedding tradition is the toasts. At our wedding they made me cry and cry and cry.

3.)If you were on Gilligan’s Island, who would you want to share your hut with? Who would you consider it torture to have to share a hut with?

I would want to share my hut with MaryAnn and the Professor for nightly threesomes. Also I think they would be most likely to keep the place clean and neat. I would kill Ginger if I had to share a hut with her. I hate vain, prissy chicks.

4.) Have you ever called your current significant other by another name at any point? What happened?

No. He, on the other hand, calls me by the wrong name on a regular basis. He has introduced me as Melissa or as Melanie on several occasions (that was in the first year or two of our relationship). Generally that happens when he is nervous about introducing me to the person involved. When we fight he sometimes calls me by his sister's name. Apparently he fought with her so much growing up that it just comes out. Lovely.

5.) If you were going to be famous under a stage name, what would you pick your stage name to be? Why? What do you want to be famous doing?

Randi Rabbit, of course! I would be famous for my slow, seductive strip tease. Either that or I would be a comedian with a really raunchy act, kind of like Sarah Silverman.

6.) During sex, do you ever fantasize about someone other than your partner?

Duh - all the time.

7.) Which is worse, being in a place that is too loud, or too quiet?

Too loud is definitely worse. I have enough going on in my head to fill quiet spaces, but loud is just distracting and makes conversation difficult.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Random Thoughts & TMI Tuesday

"Too Drunk To F***" is a fun song, but so not appropriate for the radio. I can't believe my local radio station plays it regularly. It's fun to listen to as an adult who has been through that stage in life (I think we called it "college"), but certainly not something one wants to encourage in the younger set.

I haven't watched too much of the Olympics. Not because I'm boycotting them or anything, I just have other things to do. I did watch some of the track events and bits of replays of the swimming and gymnastics. I'm just not into it this time around and my kids don't really appreciate it yet either. Instead we overdose on Nickelodeon shows. I think I know every episode of Drake and Josh and iCarly by heart.

I'm very glad for Michael Phelps' eight gold medals, but I really hope he spends some of that endorsement cash coming his way on getting his mouth fixed. His upper jaw looks too small for the rest of his face - it'll take some serious work to get that fixed, but it is do-able. I don't get the impression he's terribly bright, so he'll have to skate by on his medals and his looks in life. That makes the teeth thing very important.

My son is wearing a sundress as a shirt right now. Is it wrong that I think he looks kind of cute in it? I think I will draw the line at wearing it to the park though.

Is it just me, or does Gary Glitter's "Do You Want to Touch Me?" seem incredibly creepy since his conviction for child molestation? I like the song, but I'll stick to the Joan Jett version from here on out.

1. Are you truly politically correct? Be honest.

Probably not. We all have our little prejudices and hang-ups.

2. Will you ever streak in public during rush hour?

Nope. Perhaps when I was young, thin, and drunk quite often I would have, but not now.

3. Would you ever do something sexual in public (more than 20 people around)?


4. Do you ever not have good table manners?

Probably when eating ribs or something like that. But otherwise I try to demonstrate good manners at all times. I want to set a good example for my children. I HATE when people chew with their mouths open, pick their teeth at the table, etc. It's not so much about knowing which fork to use (note: if a table is properly set, you start at the outside and work in as each course is served) as it is about making the meal a pleasant experience for all involved.

5. Do you ever fantasize about a public sexual act? Describe.

I love the idea of wearing a short skirt with no panties to a bar/nightclub and having a man reach under and manually bring me to orgasm with strangers standing all around. In this fantasy most of the crowd is oblivious but a few men realize what is happening and watch with unabashed lust.

Bonus (as in optional): Have you ever gone through a true sexual fantasy? Describe.

I've done the two guys at the same time thing a couple times. Hasn't yet lived up to the fantasy, but I'm willing to keep trying!!

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Monday, August 18, 2008

Stolen meme - Fill in the Blank

I stole this from Cece at Lovin' Laughin'& Livin'

1) When I was a kid I wanted to be a lawyer when I grew up. (Lesson: be careful what you wish for . . .)

2) The last time I went to Chuck E. Cheese I was miserable because it was Chuck E. Cheese - DUH!.

3) When I have a few extra bucks I like to spend it on a mani/pedi.

4) The first 3 things I’m going to do if I win the Lottery is upgrade my living accomodations, create trusts for my kids, & buy a new hybrid vehicle.

5) What I look forward to most in the Fall is getting settled in our new home!

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Mute Monday - Singers

This spoof of Nickelback's Rockstar, called "Pop Star" cracks me up. So true:

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings

Unconscious Mutterings - come play with us!

  1. Signature :: move

  2. Olympics :: sport (though I simultaneously thought "Faux-pening Ceremonies")

  3. 100% :: pure

  4. Damn! ::That was Good!

  5. Gold :: standard

  6. Fresh and natural :: douche commercial

  7. Fraction :: -al ownership

  8. Hurry :: up and wait

  9. Summer :: ville

  10. 29th :: birthday; again

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

I'm going to miss Michigan.

I've been here since my 8th birthday. And I don't mean around my 8th birthday, I mean the exact day. How it happened I don't know, but the movers took our stuff a couple days before my birthday and my mother, 4-year-old sister, and I were scheduled to fly from North Carolina to Michigan on my 8th birthday. What a crappy birthday! I woke up in a motel room near the airport in Raleigh, flew from Raleigh to Chicago, then spent the whole damn day walking around, bored as heck, in O'Hare Airport. For some reason our flight was delayed and delayed and delayed some more, so there we sat: A 4-yr-old, an 8-yr-old pissed to be spending her birthday in an airport, and my stressed out mother. That she didn't strangle us and leave us in an airport lounge while she ran off to Rio was a miracle. I don't know if I could've survived it. Then again, I'm going to drive 1100 miles with a 3.5-yr-old hyper girl and a 7.5-yr-old autistic kid and two geriatric cats who will not be happy. What the hell am I thinking????

Anyway, I spent almost the entire day of my 8th birthday at one airport or another. We left Raleigh at 8 in the morning, getting to Chicago before 11 a.m. Our flight to Grand Rapids finally left at almost 10:30 p.m., getting us to Michigan at 11:30 p.m. The only good things were that my Dad was there to pick us up (I hadn't seen him for about 6 weeks) and he gave me a purple TV for my birthday. Apparently he felt awful for me having to spend my birthday traveling, so he got me a purple 13" b/w RCA TV for my bedroom in the new house. I was the only 8-yr-old I knew with her own TV in her room, so I guess it was pretty cool. Though I was terribly disappointed to learn that in 1975 cable television hadn't made it to our part of Michigan and we only got 4 channels. We had had a whole slew of channels back in Podunk North Carolina. Oh well. At least I had a purple TV. (We finally got cable when I was 16).

I hope my kids aren't expecting any purple TVs, because it ain't gonna happen. They're going to have to be satisfied with being with their dad again, because that's all they are getting. And a new house, in a new town, with a new school, etc. A total freaking upheaval of everything they know. But we'll be a family again and that will be good. They need their Dad and he needs them. And I need a co-parent. This single parent thing sucks ass. Bad.

I'm hoping I get to see PiC once more before we leave. I could use a good, hard romp as a send-off. We'll see; perhaps the stars will align and we'll both be free at the same time.

* * * * *

My kids and I have been listening to this song since before Christmas, so I'm glad it's FINALLY out as a video that I can embed here. In fact, last night Boy and I were singing it in the car while Girl shook her green and white MSU pom-poms in her carseat. A lovely mother-children moment.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I needed a laugh

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Wednesday Weirdness + It's Really Happening

1. Is there anything hanging from your vehicle's rear view mirror?

Not by my choice, but when my son has been in there he usually leaves something for me to take down - stickers, stuffed animals, hair clips, etc.

2. When you go into the bathroom, do you ever check behind the shower curtain? You know, to make sure no one is miraculously hiding back there.

Not anymore. I did many years ago, when I lived alone. I discovered that there was never anyone there except the occasional cat.

3. At what age did your mom or dad give you "the talk" about sex?

My parents were open and informative about sex and sexual issues my whole life. I was probably about 9 or 10 when my mom really go into detail about it, but it was nothing so dramatic as to be memorable.

4. If you could add anything at all to an airplane to make trips more interesting, what would it be and why?

Private cabins with a bed :)

5. What is one thing you and your significant other can never seem to agree on?

MONEY!!! We have very different ideas about what is important.

6. Have you ever walked in on someone else having sex? How did you and the people involved react?

No, not uninvited at least. ;-)

7. Everyone hears discussions that they consider boring. What is one topic that can put you to sleep quicker than any other?

The unremitting wonderfulness of someone else's miraculous and perfect child.

* * * * *

It's really happening.

I'm moving down south. Movers are going to come and, for an exhorbitant amount of money, haul my stuff 1100 miles to our new home.

We still haven't sold our house in Michigan, so it's going to be interesting for a while. Financially, that is.

Trying to get my son's school records transferred is proving to be interesting. He's been attending summer school two days a week at a school that is not his regular school. Figuring out where his records are and who has the responsibility to send them down south is a pain in the butt. Because he is autistic and can't just go into a regular first grade classroom, it's important that the school psychologist down there gets his records ASAP in order to determine the best placement for him.

I am looking forward to the new house. It's much newer than my current house (by almost 80 years), has a 2.5 car garage, laundry right by the bedrooms, and I'LL HAVE MY OWN BATHROOM. Okay, I have to share it with Spousehole, but I don't have to share it with the kids! This is HUGE for me. I hate sharing a bathroom with the kids. Even better - the master bath in the new house has a tub AND a separate shower!! Woo hoo!! I may never leave that room. No basement in the new house, of course, but the bathroom probably makes up for that. It's in a small town outside Charleston; close enough for Spousehole to commute fairly easily, far enough out to have better schools and avoid some of the pitfalls of city living.

What's weird is giving up how I think of myself. I currently live in an older home in a semi-hip part of a largish city. Our neighborhood is family-oriented, but with a hip twist. We like to think we're kind of cool. Liberals, artists, musicians, heterosexual, homosexual, blended, multiracial, and multicultural families living in harmony, all that stuff. Now I'm moving to a cookie-cutter subdivision (oh wait, they're not all the same - there are 6 different floorplans!) in a small town in the south. I'll be just another suburban mom driving a minivan around the subdivision and shopping at the Walmart Supercenter. It's just not "me" or at least not how I think of "me."

Change - the only constant in life.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

TMI Tuesday

1. What is your favorite song to have sex to?

For making love:
Chopin's Prelude in E Minor (Op. 28, No. 4) or Ravel's Bolero or Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata or My Immortal by Evanescence:

For hot, rough and wild sex:
NIN's Closer
AC/DC's You Shook Me
Buckcherry's Lit Up and Crazy Bitch
Deftones' Be Quiet and Drive

2. What is your vision of hell?

To be surrounded by small children fighting and crying "MommyMommyMommyMommyMommy" and whining - that would definitely be Hell.

3. In the film made of your life, who will play you?

Rosie O'Donnell, probably. Ugh.

4. What is the one thing you most urgently need to tell your mom?

To make Dad take his stupid medicine!

5. What will be carved onto your tombstone?

Of course, if I end up with a tombstone, I will be haunting somebody's ass - I have been very clear with anyone and everyone who could ever possibly be considered my next-of-kin that I want to be "crispy crittered" (cremated) and my ashes used as fertilizer in a flower bed, preferably roses. The only way I would consent to be buried is if it can be done without embalming, in a biodegradable box with no cement vault or anything, just straight into the ground. I would also prefer that there be some provision for that land to be returned to productive use within 100 -150 years, so that my rotting carcass is not just taking up space on this earth for no reason whatsoever. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that dirt.

And the bonus: What is your drag name (which would be, first name: the name of your first pet; last name: the name of the street you grew up on)?

Lady Park Avenue

Monday, August 11, 2008

Mute Monday - West/Western (Michigan)

Click on each picture to learn more about West Michigan!

Volksparade Street Cleaners

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Unconscious Mutterings

Unconscious Mutterings - come play with us!

  1. Month to month :: Lease

  2. Adjusted :: Nudged

  3. Prank :: Call

  4. Mop :: Head

  5. Clarity :: Moment of

  6. Parenting ::Magazine

  7. Glenn :: Close

  8. Fingerprint :: Identification

  9. Pineapple :: Express

  10. Attorney :: Divorce

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

I'm easily amused

fail owned pwned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

So Bunny, are you ever going to tell us about your trip to Charleston?

Okay, since you asked . . .

Flights down there were uneventful and on-time. Just the way I like it. Plus there was this bird at the airport that was apparently quite pissed about traveling with his human. The bird was in a carrier that fits under the seat and as the human carried it through the ginormous terminal in Detroit, the bird just bitched and bitched and bitched. It was kind of entertaining, so long as I wasn't on the same flight as the bird and his human.

Spousehole met me at baggage claim and I was actually pretty glad to see him. He hugged and kissed me like he may have actually missed me. So far as I know there was no one he knows at the airport for him to try to impress. He took me to lunch at an Irish bar kind of near his office that was really good, except it was a bit smoky. A couple of his co-workers were supposed to meet us there, but didn't show up until we were done eating. I guess they thought it would take a lot longer for him to get me and my checked baggage from the airport. Anyway, at least I got to meet them, although I was all rumpled from traveling and being up since 3:00 a.m. and with no make-up on. I'm sure they were very impressed.

We did some touristy things for a couple days. Saw the Hunley, which is something I really wanted to see (plus it's right by Spousehole's office, yet he still hadn't been there). I loved the movie about the Hunley on TNT a few years back and the documentary about its recovery that I saw. It was super cool to see it and artifacts recovered from it. They had the models used in the movie that were made from the estimates of the Hunley's size after it was found but before it was recovered. The models were tiny - you can hardly believe 8 people fit in there. Spousehole is over 6' tall and so was at least one of the Hunley's sailors. Spousehole looked HUGE fitting through the model hatches and in the body of the model sub. Then we learned that the estimates used for the movie subs were actually a bit off and the real Hunley was EVEN SMALLER. The claustrophobic in me shudders at the very thought of it. Seeing the sub itself was beyond cool. I love how they've opened up the lab where the Hunley is being preserved so people can see it as the preservation process unfolds. The sub itself is in a 90,000 gallon water tank to preserve it. Scientists lower the water level to expose the area they are working on for a given day, then fill it back up at the end of the work day. Too flipping cool. The engineering in the sub is so futuristic for its time.

We also took a ferry out to Fort Sumter, where the first shot of the Civil War was fired. That was really cool for me, since I have spent so much time in two other forts from an earlier era (Fort Mackinac and Fort Michilimackinaw - pre-Revoluntionary War forts). It was cool to compare the advances in fort building and weaponry with the forts with which I'm more familiar. I'm such a history geek. When we get settled there, I'm going to hit a bunch more Civil War battle sites.

We went to the Market downtown and browsed the stalls after having overpriced food and ice cream. We drove around and just looked at stuff, getting a feel for the area.

Getting a feel for the greater Charleston area is difficult, because it's so hit-or-miss. I realize it is a very old city and so "urban planning" was not on the agenda for 200-300 years, but seriously, the planning folks over the last 75 years or so have not earned their keep. Holy crap. Strip mall after strip mall after strip mall. Crappy neighborhood, high-end neighborhood, crappy neighborhood, crappy neighborhood, industrial crap, mid-range neighborhood, crappy neighborhood and so on. You'll find a cul-de-sac or two of nice houses, surrounded by shacks you wouldn't let your worst enemy's dog live in. I realize that sounds awful, but it's the truth. I can't imagine spending $350,000 for a house and having to worry about the crack house and meth lab a block away. The strip mall thing is really bad there too. A good city/township planner will try to limit the number of strip malls and restrict their placement, signage, greenery etc. The area is set up like the planners were taking cash from the strip mall developers. It really looks like there was no master plan in place in any of the cities and townships that make up the greater Charleston area. And certainly no cooperative planning amongst communities that share major roadways. Maybe I should apply to be an urban planner when we move down there. I could certainly do a better job than whoever is doing it now (if anyone).

Don't get me wrong - it's a beautiful area overall. But the proliferation of strip malls and lack of planning really detract from what could be a truly fabulous place.

I got to see a lot of the area looking for possible places to live. Unfortunately, Spousehole and I seem to have a bit of miscommunication on the housing front. I guess I figured since he was living there and claims to be so bored outside work hours without his family to spend time with that he was checking out cities and neighborhoods and school districts - potential places to live. I figured that he would have things narrowed down a bit when I got there. He apparently thought I was taking care of all that from MICHIGAN, where I have so very much free time on my hands, despite trying to fix up/maintain our house to sell it, feeding/clothing/entertaining/wrangling our children, and so on.

On the plus side, I did get laid and it was better than it has been in years. Still not earth-shattering or anything, but quite nice nonetheless. The fact that one his housemates, in the room right next to his, stays up until all hours of the night put a bit of a crimp in things. After all, it's one thing to have sex when the guy in the next room is fast asleep, but quite another when you know he's wide awake and listening (and he was totally the type of guy who would be listening). We spent one night at a hotel just to be assured of some privacy. And to be in a place that doesn't reek of stale cat pee and cigarette smoke. The house in which Spousehole is renting a room is probably ok for a guy, but you could pay me to live there. No one smoked when Spousehole moved in, but one guy moved out in June to go back to school at the Citadel. The guy who replaced him smokes and does so inside the house. It's been so long since I even knew anyone who allowed smoking in their home (my dad and sister both smoke but wouldn't even consider doing so in their houses, same with the few friends I have that smoke) that it was a bit of a shock for me. The stench was so nasty that I didn't want to spend one more second there than necessary (that cat pee smell is old and won't go away until the owner tears out the carpet and treats the concrete slab underneath). Yuck, yuck, yuck. And the cat litter box was right next to the kitchen table. Who wants to eat next to a litter box? OMG. It was a dark, smelly little house decorated with (framed) horror movie posters. I think mine was the first estrogen in that house in many, many months. Not the first boobs, however, since the smoking housemate has man-boobs that put my little C cups to shame. (Owner-housemate had nice pierced nipples though, so that made up for the horror of the man-boobs on the other dude.)

The potential residences we checked out ranged from "Wow, I'd love this if it weren't in such a crappy school district or so bleeping expensive" to "OMFG honey, don't even slow the car down. I wouldn't live here on a bet." (The last one came from SPOUSEHOLE, when I was driving. Yeah, the neighborhood was THAT bad.)

Someone answer me this, please: Why are houses in the South generally built without basements? I can understand if you are in an area with a high water table that make a basement impractical. But inland, what's up with that? It was the same where I lived in N.C. as a kid. Our house had a basement, but it was custom-built and was the only house for several blocks in any direction that had one. That city was in north central N.C., near the Va border. No where near the ocean. But still, no basements. Is it just that builders are too cheap to dig basements? I don't get it.

Also, why do people in Charleston just cross the street where ever they damn please and expect traffic to stop for them? I don't mean in the crowded downtown area, I mean out in the outer areas on very busy roads. People would just meander across the streets, not even at an intersection, taking their time about it and expecting 50 mph traffic to just stop for them. I wanted to just run them down, but I guess that wouldn't have been polite and the South is all about polite. Though how is it polite to cross the road not at an intersection and when traffic isn't clear? Hmm?

I'm going to have a tough time with the polite thing when I move down there. I mean I know HOW to be polite and I generally am polite, but I can see there will be times when I just lose it and start bitching people out. I can only take so much. I guess the trick is learning to be polite without being a total doormat. It will be a steep learning curve for me.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

TMI Tuesday - Romance Edition + Depression

1. What is your definition of romantic?

Sappy, ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey stuff. Not that I would complain if Spousehole were to get romantic for a change.

2. Would you consider yourself to be romantic?

Not so much of the ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey type romantic. I am a romantic in that I continue to harbor hope when all evidence points to its futility. I enjoy other people's romantic love stories, but am more practical when it comes to my own love life.

3. Is your significant other romantic?

He used to be, before he met me and a little bit into our relationship. But that went away.

4. Have you ever chastised a SO for not being romantic enough or too romantic?

Not chastised, but laughed out loud at the absurdity of an attempted romantic gesture once. That didn't go over well at all.

5. What do you consider a grand romantic gesture? Have you ever been the recipient or giver of one?

Laying down one's life for a loved one, giving up something one really loves for the happiness of the other (Gift of the Magi and all that), etc. No one has ever died for me. My college boyfriend did choose a grad school closer to me over one far away, but it was the better choice anyway and I suspect he would have chosen it regardless of my location.

6. If you have done something romantic to get laid, did it work? If not, why and how did that affect your romantic tendencies in the past.

No, I'm not big into the romance thing.

7. What is the most romantic thing you have ever done? Had done for you?

Doing romantic things isn't really my thing. I try to do things to make my loved ones happy on a regular basis, not just once in a blue moon when I'm feeling "romantic."
I honestly can't recall ever thinking "oh, that's so romantic" when someone did something for me and meant it. I'm too practical. For instance, Spousehole sprinkled my bed and bedroom with rose petals (when we were dating) and all I could think was "what a waste of lovely roses!" although I had the good sense not to say that out loud.

* * * * * * *

I'm having a rough time emotionally.

My kids are happy to be home after a week at my in-laws. They had vacation bible school to distract them each morning, but by evening they were missing mommy and daddy and didn't hesitate to share this sentiment with grandma and grandpa. Since returning home, they are like little tornadoes through the my house, tossing out toys and clothes with reckless abandon. The house can be half-way straightened up, then they come home and within minutes it is a total pigsty again. Spousehole even tries telling the kids to pick up their stuff and help mommy, etc. when he Skypes with them, but they rarely listen. Boy does have a new cleaning obsession, however - laundry. Apparently his grandma taught him to do laundry and now it's all he wants to do. I had to re-teach a few things, because his grandma has a front-loader washer and I have a top-loader, but otherwise he's pretty well got it. He doesn't get why he has to add water to the softener in mine, though, since he doesn't have to do that at grandma's (didn't used to have to in mine either, but now that all they sell are ultra-concentrated softeners you do). Unfortunately, he doesn't fold the clothes once they are dry, he just dumps them on my folding table and walks away. Also he doesn't always wait to have a full load before washing. He'll put a shirt and a pair of jeans in the washer and then wash on the "extra large" load setting. Not good. He doesn't sort well either, but so long as he washes it all on cold I'm trying not to be all anal about it.

The kids miss their dad terribly. We Skype with him almost every night, so they see and talk to him regularly, but they still miss his physical presence. Girl woke up nearly hysterical last night, crying "Miss Daddy! Want Daddy!" and then sobbing her little heart out. It was awful. She was up for almost an hour crying like that. Boy can't express it as well verbally (emotions are hard for autistic kids), but it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He often cries at bedtime, but can't explain why. It just breaks my heart to see them so sad.

Anyway, back to my being emotional (because it's all about me). The kids are driving me up the wall as I try to keep the house in some semblance of order in case any potential buyers want to see it. I'm going a little insane. So I try to take the kids places to entertain them and keep them from destroying the house. But I can't take them to the mall anymore, because the Boy is obsessed with shoes and has a meltdown if I won't let him get more shoes (the kid has more shoes than I do, not even counting the ones he has outgrown that are in a bag to be donated). When I say he is obsessed, I'm not exaggerating. He will load his backpack with shoes when we go to McDonald's, then fill the shoe keeper in the play area with all his shoes. He lines them up, just so, on the floor of my living room (if only he did that in his closet!), and has fits if his sister touches them. He changes shoes hourly throughout the day.

Since the mall is off limits, I took them to an indoor play place (costs $12.00 for two kids now - inflation I guess) yesterday. Girl got bit by another kid (who was totally busted and still tried to blame my kid - "she wanted me to bite her" she insisted). Boy pooped his sister's underpants (that's a story for another day). Both kids kept taking off their socks (a big no-no) and wanting inappropriate snacks (Boy's allergic to milk, yet wants Cheetos; girl wants ice cream and little toys they sell and popcorn that always makes her sick . . . ). Then the thing that drove me the most nuts: Girl kept saying "Mommymommymommymommymommymommy." I finally asked her to never call me Mommy again. From henceforth I wish to be addressed as "Great Exalted Leader." She said "You silly Mommy" so I guess she won't be doing as I ask. Brat.

Living separately from Spousehole but still being "together" is taking its toll. I miss the co-parenting and partnership. A lot of the partnership part was lacking until recently, but he has been much better long-distance and when I visited him. But I miss having someone here on a regular basis. It's hard.

Now my dad, who has been my rock my whole life and especially since Spousehole moved, is having a rough time. His hip is really, really hurting him and it kills me to see him in pain. He is not one to complain usually, but this is so bad that he can't help it. He has arthritis in his hips and also sciatic nerve pain. It breaks my heart to see him like this. It's worse than watching him recover from a triple-bypass a few years ago. He's always been very active (golfing several times a week, busier in retirement than most working people, etc.) and this pain has taken all that away from him. I hate it and it's really affecting my mood.

Add to that the uncertainty of this crappy real estate market, the heat and humidity in my house (I just can't seem to get good airflow, even with ceiling fans and window fans and I don't want to run the AC much because it gives me sinus problems), and having to search for a place to live from afar (Spousehole hasn't even tried to find us a place to live in S.C. - that's a rant for another day) and I'm at my wits' end. I cry at the drop of a hat, have zero patience with my kids or anyone else really, and make excessive use of parenthetical explanations. Upping my antidepressants won't help because this isn't so much chemical depression as situational depression. Things suck ass and the only cure for that is for things to stop sucking ass.

I need a hug.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy