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

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

Mute Monday - West/Western (Michigan)

Click on each picture to learn more about West Michigan!

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

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

see more pwn and owned pictures

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy

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

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