I am not sure if I do an inordinate amount of stupid stuff or if I'm just more willing to admit it than other people. But I thought that in recapping the great two weeks in Chicago, I would start with the really, really, really stupid stuff that happened.
There is a lot.
One of the pluses of working for a classy firm is that they fly you first class. One of the negatives is that in first class, you're so comfy and snoozy that you can be.......careless. Inattentive even. And so, when you saunter to the LOVELY first class bathroom on the plane ("Can we get you anything else to drink Mrs X?" the flight attendant asks as I pass, frighteningly knowing my NAME) that you might, just might, forget to be very careful what you are doing in that bathroom. And you might lift up the seat as well as the lid, and then SIT down into the horrid bowl of steel airplane toilet. And, in your confusion, you might HIT the FLUSH button on the wall with your arm. Which creates a vacuum. A POWERFUL AIRPLANE ENGINE POWERED VACUUM.
On your butt.
Which, ummm, HURTS.
Fortunately, basic physics didn't fail me and I had the sense to BREAK the vacuum by prying my finger between my buttcheek and the bowl and was able to free myself, thus preventing airplane DEATH by TOILET SEAT.
Yeah, that one is going to be hard to top.
I don't think I can, which is why I lead off with it.
I also drove back and forth on highway 41 on the phone with the people at Residence saying "BUT I DO NOT SEE THE EXIT" for about 15 minutes........until finally I said "OHHHH, you mean the one marked HIWAY 43.......EXIT..."
yeah......I think part of my brains got sucked down that toilet.
Then there was the night that we ran into Jim Belushi or his best doppleganger ever. There is something sad about being so drunk that Jim Belushi is offering to pitch in and help pay your cab fare.
We partied with Irish girls, one of whom puked in a cup at the table, and proceeded to continue to party. Ummm, file that under ewwwww.
I pulled up next to a Chicago PD after having been carousing in Lincoln Park for HOURS and said "OY! I can't find Ontario and I need to get on 94......can you help me out?"
The wafts of Jameson and Guiness coming from my breath didn't deter him one bit....he helped me out plenty. Maybe I just looked like a dorky mom and not a PARTY GIRL.......I had on my dorky mom disguise.
On my way home, I accidentally walked through security with my cell phone in my pocket. I forgot I had it on me, I NEVER carry it. I thought I was doomed for a body cavity search when they announed "GO GET A MATRON". After they had completely gone through every thing I own and given me the full body pat down INCLUDING making me lift my shirt a bit (how'd you like that FAT TSA MATRON?) I was allowed to go. I think the big secret to the TSA, is SMILE.
Be polite. Apologize. Be understanding and don't toss them shit. I remember back when you feared the border guards because they could fuck up your world if you gave them a smart aleck response. Everyone needs to treat the TSA the same way, and you can move along nicely. Seriously, they were totally nice to me when initially it looked like I was going to have a lovely girl on girl scene in private room at the General Mitchell airport.
To top of my stupid stuff, it wasn't that stupid, but I SWEAR the entire plane looked at me, when I stood up to let the guy next to me sit back down, I cracked my head HARD on the bulkhead of the plane.
How you ask?
I don't know.
I just meant to stand up....and I stood up too fast, didn't account for the lower ceiling just over the seats and WHAM!!!!
No, I wasn't drinking........
hard to believe, though, isn't it?
I really had to pee.......but knew better this time.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Chicago Trip - Let's Start with the Stupid Stuff
I am not sure if I do an inordinate amount of stupid stuff or if I'm just more willing to admit it than other people. But I thought that in recapping the great two weeks in Chicago, I would start with the really, really, really stupid stuff that happened.
There is a lot.
One of the pluses of working for a classy firm is that they fly you first class. One of the negatives is that in first class, you're so comfy and snoozy that you can be.......careless. Inattentive even. And so, when you saunter to the LOVELY first class bathroom on the plane ("Can we get you anything else to drink Mrs X?" the flight attendant asks as I pass, frighteningly knowing my NAME) that you might, just might, forget to be very careful what you are doing in that bathroom. And you might lift up the seat as well as the lid, and then SIT down into the horrid bowl of steel airplane toilet. And, in your confusion, you might HIT the FLUSH button on the wall with your arm. Which creates a vacuum. A POWERFUL AIRPLANE ENGINE POWERED VACUUM.
On your butt.
Which, ummm, HURTS.
Fortunately, basic physics didn't fail me and I had the sense to BREAK the vacuum by prying my finger between my buttcheek and the bowl and was able to free myself, thus preventing airplane DEATH by TOILET SEAT.
Yeah, that one is going to be hard to top.
I don't think I can, which is why I lead off with it.
I also drove back and forth on highway 41 on the phone with the people at Residence saying "BUT I DO NOT SEE THE EXIT" for about 15 minutes........until finally I said "OHHHH, you mean the one marked HIWAY 43.......EXIT..."
yeah......I think part of my brains got sucked down that toilet.
Then there was the night that we ran into Jim Belushi or his best doppleganger ever. There is something sad about being so drunk that Jim Belushi is offering to pitch in and help pay your cab fare.
We partied with Irish girls, one of whom puked in a cup at the table, and proceeded to continue to party. Ummm, file that under ewwwww.
I pulled up next to a Chicago PD after having been carousing in Lincoln Park for HOURS and said "OY! I can't find Ontario and I need to get on 94......can you help me out?"
The wafts of Jameson and Guiness coming from my breath didn't deter him one bit....he helped me out plenty. Maybe I just looked like a dorky mom and not a PARTY GIRL.......I had on my dorky mom disguise.
On my way home, I accidentally walked through security with my cell phone in my pocket. I forgot I had it on me, I NEVER carry it. I thought I was doomed for a body cavity search when they announed "GO GET A MATRON". After they had completely gone through every thing I own and given me the full body pat down INCLUDING making me lift my shirt a bit (how'd you like that FAT TSA MATRON?) I was allowed to go. I think the big secret to the TSA, is SMILE.
Be polite. Apologize. Be understanding and don't toss them shit. I remember back when you feared the border guards because they could fuck up your world if you gave them a smart aleck response. Everyone needs to treat the TSA the same way, and you can move along nicely. Seriously, they were totally nice to me when initially it looked like I was going to have a lovely girl on girl scene in private room at the General Mitchell airport.
To top of my stupid stuff, it wasn't that stupid, but I SWEAR the entire plane looked at me, when I stood up to let the guy next to me sit back down, I cracked my head HARD on the bulkhead of the plane.
How you ask?
I don't know.
I just meant to stand up....and I stood up too fast, didn't account for the lower ceiling just over the seats and WHAM!!!!
No, I wasn't drinking........
hard to believe, though, isn't it?
I really had to pee.......but knew better this time.
There is a lot.
One of the pluses of working for a classy firm is that they fly you first class. One of the negatives is that in first class, you're so comfy and snoozy that you can be.......careless. Inattentive even. And so, when you saunter to the LOVELY first class bathroom on the plane ("Can we get you anything else to drink Mrs X?" the flight attendant asks as I pass, frighteningly knowing my NAME) that you might, just might, forget to be very careful what you are doing in that bathroom. And you might lift up the seat as well as the lid, and then SIT down into the horrid bowl of steel airplane toilet. And, in your confusion, you might HIT the FLUSH button on the wall with your arm. Which creates a vacuum. A POWERFUL AIRPLANE ENGINE POWERED VACUUM.
On your butt.
Which, ummm, HURTS.
Fortunately, basic physics didn't fail me and I had the sense to BREAK the vacuum by prying my finger between my buttcheek and the bowl and was able to free myself, thus preventing airplane DEATH by TOILET SEAT.
Yeah, that one is going to be hard to top.
I don't think I can, which is why I lead off with it.
I also drove back and forth on highway 41 on the phone with the people at Residence saying "BUT I DO NOT SEE THE EXIT" for about 15 minutes........until finally I said "OHHHH, you mean the one marked HIWAY 43.......EXIT..."
yeah......I think part of my brains got sucked down that toilet.
Then there was the night that we ran into Jim Belushi or his best doppleganger ever. There is something sad about being so drunk that Jim Belushi is offering to pitch in and help pay your cab fare.
We partied with Irish girls, one of whom puked in a cup at the table, and proceeded to continue to party. Ummm, file that under ewwwww.
I pulled up next to a Chicago PD after having been carousing in Lincoln Park for HOURS and said "OY! I can't find Ontario and I need to get on 94......can you help me out?"
The wafts of Jameson and Guiness coming from my breath didn't deter him one bit....he helped me out plenty. Maybe I just looked like a dorky mom and not a PARTY GIRL.......I had on my dorky mom disguise.
On my way home, I accidentally walked through security with my cell phone in my pocket. I forgot I had it on me, I NEVER carry it. I thought I was doomed for a body cavity search when they announed "GO GET A MATRON". After they had completely gone through every thing I own and given me the full body pat down INCLUDING making me lift my shirt a bit (how'd you like that FAT TSA MATRON?) I was allowed to go. I think the big secret to the TSA, is SMILE.
Be polite. Apologize. Be understanding and don't toss them shit. I remember back when you feared the border guards because they could fuck up your world if you gave them a smart aleck response. Everyone needs to treat the TSA the same way, and you can move along nicely. Seriously, they were totally nice to me when initially it looked like I was going to have a lovely girl on girl scene in private room at the General Mitchell airport.
To top of my stupid stuff, it wasn't that stupid, but I SWEAR the entire plane looked at me, when I stood up to let the guy next to me sit back down, I cracked my head HARD on the bulkhead of the plane.
How you ask?
I don't know.
I just meant to stand up....and I stood up too fast, didn't account for the lower ceiling just over the seats and WHAM!!!!
No, I wasn't drinking........
hard to believe, though, isn't it?
I really had to pee.......but knew better this time.
And There Were Three Little Bears Sitting on Chairs
Three years ago, shortly before this very hour, this photo was snapped of me.
I realize a scream of horror just went out through the blogosphere. Yes, there I am, Mrs Jabba....on my way to give birth to my equally HUT sized twins.
Today they turn three.
It has been simultaneously the longest and the shortest three years of my entire life. I feel certain that first 4 months were actually six years long.
It has been hard and wonderful, and expensive. There were weeks that they could only drink that formula that is hypoallergenic, the one that is like $25 for the LITTLE can......there were weeks that they wouldn't sleep in their own beds, they would only sleep in their car seats or swings.
Somehow they grew up. And now they are big boys.
And they apparently drive a bus.
And There Were Three Little Bears Sitting on Chairs
Three years ago, shortly before this very hour, this photo was snapped of me.
I realize a scream of horror just went out through the blogosphere. Yes, there I am, Mrs Jabba....on my way to give birth to my equally HUT sized twins.
Today they turn three.
It has been simultaneously the longest and the shortest three years of my entire life. I feel certain that first 4 months were actually six years long.
It has been hard and wonderful, and expensive. There were weeks that they could only drink that formula that is hypoallergenic, the one that is like $25 for the LITTLE can......there were weeks that they wouldn't sleep in their own beds, they would only sleep in their car seats or swings.
Somehow they grew up. And now they are big boys.
And they apparently drive a bus.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Like the Deserts Miss the Rain
Home.
I moved to Georgia 3 Weeks ago, and for the past two weeks I have been in Chicago training. Essentially, I have not seen my husband and children for two weeks. MAN.
I missed them
I have missed the endless prattling and the jabbering and the bananas at breakfast and the nonstop talking about birthday parties that are nearly a year away......and dinosaurs and geotrax and trains and things that were in Florida but are not in Georgia.
Lil Satchmo asks me how much I love him and I open my arms as wide as they go. And he opens his to show me how much he loves me and says "Look, our love is the same."
He is right.
Our love is the same.
I moved to Georgia 3 Weeks ago, and for the past two weeks I have been in Chicago training. Essentially, I have not seen my husband and children for two weeks. MAN.
I missed them
I have missed the endless prattling and the jabbering and the bananas at breakfast and the nonstop talking about birthday parties that are nearly a year away......and dinosaurs and geotrax and trains and things that were in Florida but are not in Georgia.
Lil Satchmo asks me how much I love him and I open my arms as wide as they go. And he opens his to show me how much he loves me and says "Look, our love is the same."
He is right.
Our love is the same.
Like the Deserts Miss the Rain
Home.
I moved to Georgia 3 Weeks ago, and for the past two weeks I have been in Chicago training. Essentially, I have not seen my husband and children for two weeks. MAN.
I missed them
I have missed the endless prattling and the jabbering and the bananas at breakfast and the nonstop talking about birthday parties that are nearly a year away......and dinosaurs and geotrax and trains and things that were in Florida but are not in Georgia.
Lil Satchmo asks me how much I love him and I open my arms as wide as they go. And he opens his to show me how much he loves me and says "Look, our love is the same."
He is right.
Our love is the same.
I moved to Georgia 3 Weeks ago, and for the past two weeks I have been in Chicago training. Essentially, I have not seen my husband and children for two weeks. MAN.
I missed them
I have missed the endless prattling and the jabbering and the bananas at breakfast and the nonstop talking about birthday parties that are nearly a year away......and dinosaurs and geotrax and trains and things that were in Florida but are not in Georgia.
Lil Satchmo asks me how much I love him and I open my arms as wide as they go. And he opens his to show me how much he loves me and says "Look, our love is the same."
He is right.
Our love is the same.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
I Cannot LISTEN and READ at the SAME TIME
First of all, I'm waiting to do a Chicago recap for when my two weeks there are done. I'm right now on shore leave, 48 hours with the husband and offspring and then the car comes and whisks me away.
A note to the peanut gallery though......my new job rocks it.
So anyway, back to the things I cannot do.
It's not a MEME.
But, maybe it is how one begins, I dunno.
I've been thinking a lot lately about some of my quirks. I know everyone is different but I'm wondering how many other people HAVE either of these....
First, I don't think this is unusual but I've never met anyone else who says this is true. If I am reading, I am nearly deaf. NEARLY. I can sort of hear you. Your words don't actually have a lot of meaning, or my brain puts them together wrong. Or some sort of autopilot is engaged and I answer........a yes, no, uh-huh, etc etcetc....which is of course wrong but I don't even know I'm doing it. I guess I love reading.....or I require all of my brain to do it. Which doesn't say much for my brain.
Second, I cannot take a drink with food in my mouth. You know how you take a bite, and it's too hot, so you'll take a drink of something cool to wash it down? I can't do it. I have to spit out the offending food or more likely, chew it furiously - getting more and more burned, swallow the gob of FIRE and then.......THEN I can send in the emergency response drink of cold liquid. My friends Scott and Nik used to crack up at this, but I just can't DRINK with food in my mouth.
These don't seem like total madness-crazy sorts of behavior that need therapy, but they always seem to surprise people. As though I'm not supposed to have eccentricities (and oh baby do I have eccentricities) so maybe I'm just keeping the crazy buried far enough that people outside of the family unit aren't aware.
A note to the peanut gallery though......my new job rocks it.
So anyway, back to the things I cannot do.
It's not a MEME.
But, maybe it is how one begins, I dunno.
I've been thinking a lot lately about some of my quirks. I know everyone is different but I'm wondering how many other people HAVE either of these....
First, I don't think this is unusual but I've never met anyone else who says this is true. If I am reading, I am nearly deaf. NEARLY. I can sort of hear you. Your words don't actually have a lot of meaning, or my brain puts them together wrong. Or some sort of autopilot is engaged and I answer........a yes, no, uh-huh, etc etcetc....which is of course wrong but I don't even know I'm doing it. I guess I love reading.....or I require all of my brain to do it. Which doesn't say much for my brain.
Second, I cannot take a drink with food in my mouth. You know how you take a bite, and it's too hot, so you'll take a drink of something cool to wash it down? I can't do it. I have to spit out the offending food or more likely, chew it furiously - getting more and more burned, swallow the gob of FIRE and then.......THEN I can send in the emergency response drink of cold liquid. My friends Scott and Nik used to crack up at this, but I just can't DRINK with food in my mouth.
These don't seem like total madness-crazy sorts of behavior that need therapy, but they always seem to surprise people. As though I'm not supposed to have eccentricities (and oh baby do I have eccentricities) so maybe I'm just keeping the crazy buried far enough that people outside of the family unit aren't aware.
I Cannot LISTEN and READ at the SAME TIME
First of all, I'm waiting to do a Chicago recap for when my two weeks there are done. I'm right now on shore leave, 48 hours with the husband and offspring and then the car comes and whisks me away.
A note to the peanut gallery though......my new job rocks it.
So anyway, back to the things I cannot do.
It's not a MEME.
But, maybe it is how one begins, I dunno.
I've been thinking a lot lately about some of my quirks. I know everyone is different but I'm wondering how many other people HAVE either of these....
First, I don't think this is unusual but I've never met anyone else who says this is true. If I am reading, I am nearly deaf. NEARLY. I can sort of hear you. Your words don't actually have a lot of meaning, or my brain puts them together wrong. Or some sort of autopilot is engaged and I answer........a yes, no, uh-huh, etc etcetc....which is of course wrong but I don't even know I'm doing it. I guess I love reading.....or I require all of my brain to do it. Which doesn't say much for my brain.
Second, I cannot take a drink with food in my mouth. You know how you take a bite, and it's too hot, so you'll take a drink of something cool to wash it down? I can't do it. I have to spit out the offending food or more likely, chew it furiously - getting more and more burned, swallow the gob of FIRE and then.......THEN I can send in the emergency response drink of cold liquid. My friends Scott and Nik used to crack up at this, but I just can't DRINK with food in my mouth.
These don't seem like total madness-crazy sorts of behavior that need therapy, but they always seem to surprise people. As though I'm not supposed to have eccentricities (and oh baby do I have eccentricities) so maybe I'm just keeping the crazy buried far enough that people outside of the family unit aren't aware.
A note to the peanut gallery though......my new job rocks it.
So anyway, back to the things I cannot do.
It's not a MEME.
But, maybe it is how one begins, I dunno.
I've been thinking a lot lately about some of my quirks. I know everyone is different but I'm wondering how many other people HAVE either of these....
First, I don't think this is unusual but I've never met anyone else who says this is true. If I am reading, I am nearly deaf. NEARLY. I can sort of hear you. Your words don't actually have a lot of meaning, or my brain puts them together wrong. Or some sort of autopilot is engaged and I answer........a yes, no, uh-huh, etc etcetc....which is of course wrong but I don't even know I'm doing it. I guess I love reading.....or I require all of my brain to do it. Which doesn't say much for my brain.
Second, I cannot take a drink with food in my mouth. You know how you take a bite, and it's too hot, so you'll take a drink of something cool to wash it down? I can't do it. I have to spit out the offending food or more likely, chew it furiously - getting more and more burned, swallow the gob of FIRE and then.......THEN I can send in the emergency response drink of cold liquid. My friends Scott and Nik used to crack up at this, but I just can't DRINK with food in my mouth.
These don't seem like total madness-crazy sorts of behavior that need therapy, but they always seem to surprise people. As though I'm not supposed to have eccentricities (and oh baby do I have eccentricities) so maybe I'm just keeping the crazy buried far enough that people outside of the family unit aren't aware.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Back to Life
Back to Reality.
Man, it's hard to get up for work in the morning.
Not emotionally.
PHYSICALLY.
Cuz man I'm tired.
You know what a good soure of stress relief is?
A Margarita as big as your head.
And yes, I look like crap in this picture. Do I look bloated and tired?
I AM BLOATED AND TIRED.
Leave me alone. I can't believe you AGREED!
Man, it's hard to get up for work in the morning.
Not emotionally.
PHYSICALLY.
Cuz man I'm tired.
You know what a good soure of stress relief is?
A Margarita as big as your head.
And yes, I look like crap in this picture. Do I look bloated and tired?
I AM BLOATED AND TIRED.
Leave me alone. I can't believe you AGREED!
Back to Life
Back to Reality.
Man, it's hard to get up for work in the morning.
Not emotionally.
PHYSICALLY.
Cuz man I'm tired.
You know what a good soure of stress relief is?
A Margarita as big as your head.
And yes, I look like crap in this picture. Do I look bloated and tired?
I AM BLOATED AND TIRED.
Leave me alone. I can't believe you AGREED!
Man, it's hard to get up for work in the morning.
Not emotionally.
PHYSICALLY.
Cuz man I'm tired.
You know what a good soure of stress relief is?
A Margarita as big as your head.
And yes, I look like crap in this picture. Do I look bloated and tired?
I AM BLOATED AND TIRED.
Leave me alone. I can't believe you AGREED!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
A Few Notes Before I'm Gone For Two Weeks - Some Do-Gooding
I will be going out of town for a couple of weeks for training for my new job (I would insert a lot of bragging about the new job here but I don't want people at my old job to slit their wrists in complete jealousy so I'll leave it out). I thought I would share a few things with you that I think are good, important or otherwise tickle my fancy.
First of all.
There is a site that my husband visits every day. He has visited it every day since he discovered it on the web a bajillion years ago. It originally was just THE HUNGER SITE but over time it has added, support for BREAST CANCER, CHILD HEALTH, LITERACY, RAIN FOREST and ANIMAL RESCUE. We've supported them for free for years and we actually bought a goat once from the HUNGER SITE. Well, we donated goats in my Aunt's name, as a thank you for something wonderful she did for us. (She's a pretty wonderful Aunt, is my Aunt Suz). We figured she has a lot of STUFF and giving a gift like that was unusual but said that we loved and appreciated her. Which we do. You should go there. You should click on them daily. It will take you five minutes. And it will do good.
Second of all.
Our friend Mike's Orthodox Church is having a fundraiser. I'm not a religious person. At all. But I have to say that first of all, Mike is possibly the only person who was Christian as a part of WHO HE IS that didn't get on my last fucking nerve. This is probably because he is educated and not full of hocus pocus, which I like. And I figure, if you are going to support a fundraiser for a church, you should support one for the ORIGINAL Christian Church. So. If you are inclined, help out a good guy and his church. What is the worst thing that could happen? A church full of nice people gets some stuff they need.
Third of all.
You should read Smithsonian magazine. I know you don't read it. But you should. It's like that great history teacher you once had. The one who taught you things with such passion and such fascination about the subject - that to this DAY you remember the details of the FALSE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE. But you can't remember your own voice mail phone number. We subscribed to it a while back and never read it. It looked interested and we put them away to read "later". Later came when we moved. Oh my GOD.
What we have missed.
I have read Lewis and Clark's Letters. I have read about Frank Diggs and his unbelievable collection of photos of Jazz Musicians like Earl Hines. I have read about teacher Jane Elliot and the furor an experiment over racism caused. I have read about how the Roman army was CRUSHED at Kalkriese in detail, and the great archaeological finds at the site.
Do yourself a favor.
Get a copy of Smithsonian magazine.
It is exhilarating.
First of all.
There is a site that my husband visits every day. He has visited it every day since he discovered it on the web a bajillion years ago. It originally was just THE HUNGER SITE but over time it has added, support for BREAST CANCER, CHILD HEALTH, LITERACY, RAIN FOREST and ANIMAL RESCUE. We've supported them for free for years and we actually bought a goat once from the HUNGER SITE. Well, we donated goats in my Aunt's name, as a thank you for something wonderful she did for us. (She's a pretty wonderful Aunt, is my Aunt Suz). We figured she has a lot of STUFF and giving a gift like that was unusual but said that we loved and appreciated her. Which we do. You should go there. You should click on them daily. It will take you five minutes. And it will do good.
Second of all.
Our friend Mike's Orthodox Church is having a fundraiser. I'm not a religious person. At all. But I have to say that first of all, Mike is possibly the only person who was Christian as a part of WHO HE IS that didn't get on my last fucking nerve. This is probably because he is educated and not full of hocus pocus, which I like. And I figure, if you are going to support a fundraiser for a church, you should support one for the ORIGINAL Christian Church. So. If you are inclined, help out a good guy and his church. What is the worst thing that could happen? A church full of nice people gets some stuff they need.
Third of all.
You should read Smithsonian magazine. I know you don't read it. But you should. It's like that great history teacher you once had. The one who taught you things with such passion and such fascination about the subject - that to this DAY you remember the details of the FALSE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE. But you can't remember your own voice mail phone number. We subscribed to it a while back and never read it. It looked interested and we put them away to read "later". Later came when we moved. Oh my GOD.
What we have missed.
I have read Lewis and Clark's Letters. I have read about Frank Diggs and his unbelievable collection of photos of Jazz Musicians like Earl Hines. I have read about teacher Jane Elliot and the furor an experiment over racism caused. I have read about how the Roman army was CRUSHED at Kalkriese in detail, and the great archaeological finds at the site.
Do yourself a favor.
Get a copy of Smithsonian magazine.
It is exhilarating.
A Few Notes Before I'm Gone For Two Weeks - Some Do-Gooding
I will be going out of town for a couple of weeks for training for my new job (I would insert a lot of bragging about the new job here but I don't want people at my old job to slit their wrists in complete jealousy so I'll leave it out). I thought I would share a few things with you that I think are good, important or otherwise tickle my fancy.
First of all.
There is a site that my husband visits every day. He has visited it every day since he discovered it on the web a bajillion years ago. It originally was just THE HUNGER SITE but over time it has added, support for BREAST CANCER, CHILD HEALTH, LITERACY, RAIN FOREST and ANIMAL RESCUE. We've supported them for free for years and we actually bought a goat once from the HUNGER SITE. Well, we donated goats in my Aunt's name, as a thank you for something wonderful she did for us. (She's a pretty wonderful Aunt, is my Aunt Suz). We figured she has a lot of STUFF and giving a gift like that was unusual but said that we loved and appreciated her. Which we do. You should go there. You should click on them daily. It will take you five minutes. And it will do good.
Second of all.
Our friend Mike's Orthodox Church is having a fundraiser. I'm not a religious person. At all. But I have to say that first of all, Mike is possibly the only person who was Christian as a part of WHO HE IS that didn't get on my last fucking nerve. This is probably because he is educated and not full of hocus pocus, which I like. And I figure, if you are going to support a fundraiser for a church, you should support one for the ORIGINAL Christian Church. So. If you are inclined, help out a good guy and his church. What is the worst thing that could happen? A church full of nice people gets some stuff they need.
Third of all.
You should read Smithsonian magazine. I know you don't read it. But you should. It's like that great history teacher you once had. The one who taught you things with such passion and such fascination about the subject - that to this DAY you remember the details of the FALSE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE. But you can't remember your own voice mail phone number. We subscribed to it a while back and never read it. It looked interested and we put them away to read "later". Later came when we moved. Oh my GOD.
What we have missed.
I have read Lewis and Clark's Letters. I have read about Frank Diggs and his unbelievable collection of photos of Jazz Musicians like Earl Hines. I have read about teacher Jane Elliot and the furor an experiment over racism caused. I have read about how the Roman army was CRUSHED at Kalkriese in detail, and the great archaeological finds at the site.
Do yourself a favor.
Get a copy of Smithsonian magazine.
It is exhilarating.
First of all.
There is a site that my husband visits every day. He has visited it every day since he discovered it on the web a bajillion years ago. It originally was just THE HUNGER SITE but over time it has added, support for BREAST CANCER, CHILD HEALTH, LITERACY, RAIN FOREST and ANIMAL RESCUE. We've supported them for free for years and we actually bought a goat once from the HUNGER SITE. Well, we donated goats in my Aunt's name, as a thank you for something wonderful she did for us. (She's a pretty wonderful Aunt, is my Aunt Suz). We figured she has a lot of STUFF and giving a gift like that was unusual but said that we loved and appreciated her. Which we do. You should go there. You should click on them daily. It will take you five minutes. And it will do good.
Second of all.
Our friend Mike's Orthodox Church is having a fundraiser. I'm not a religious person. At all. But I have to say that first of all, Mike is possibly the only person who was Christian as a part of WHO HE IS that didn't get on my last fucking nerve. This is probably because he is educated and not full of hocus pocus, which I like. And I figure, if you are going to support a fundraiser for a church, you should support one for the ORIGINAL Christian Church. So. If you are inclined, help out a good guy and his church. What is the worst thing that could happen? A church full of nice people gets some stuff they need.
Third of all.
You should read Smithsonian magazine. I know you don't read it. But you should. It's like that great history teacher you once had. The one who taught you things with such passion and such fascination about the subject - that to this DAY you remember the details of the FALSE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE. But you can't remember your own voice mail phone number. We subscribed to it a while back and never read it. It looked interested and we put them away to read "later". Later came when we moved. Oh my GOD.
What we have missed.
I have read Lewis and Clark's Letters. I have read about Frank Diggs and his unbelievable collection of photos of Jazz Musicians like Earl Hines. I have read about teacher Jane Elliot and the furor an experiment over racism caused. I have read about how the Roman army was CRUSHED at Kalkriese in detail, and the great archaeological finds at the site.
Do yourself a favor.
Get a copy of Smithsonian magazine.
It is exhilarating.
Monday, April 09, 2007
So FAR Away........
Doesn't anyone stay in one place anymore?
The answer is of course, no. Especially not if you go to work for a really nice company that sends a great big SEMI to your house and also brings a bunch of nice men to pack up all your stuff and then to load it all up into the semi - nice as you please.
And even if you try to do the "we'll drive at night" thing that some parents recommend (I now have a special term for these people, I call them idiots) your new company will still send that great big semi to your new place and bring lots of nice men to unload it and put everything were you ask them to.
Like civilized people.
Here is a gratuitous shot of only SOME of my myriad strollers waiting to be loaded up. I think that the movers weren't even phased by them, which makes me think some lunatics out there have more strollers than me. Which is madness.
In what serves as only a further coffin nail in anything like regret or worries about the change, my new company's HR Director came over on my move in day, with a care package. Icy cold cokes, chips, PIZZA HUT gift cards ......and some Easter basket goodies for the kids - in case we didn't have time to shop for Easter because of the move.
Because they care, and wanted to us to feel welcome.
It is such a change, I hardly know what to do with the emotions it conjurs up.
Today was my first day at work.
I love it there.
So FAR Away........
Doesn't anyone stay in one place anymore?
The answer is of course, no. Especially not if you go to work for a really nice company that sends a great big SEMI to your house and also brings a bunch of nice men to pack up all your stuff and then to load it all up into the semi - nice as you please.
And even if you try to do the "we'll drive at night" thing that some parents recommend (I now have a special term for these people, I call them idiots) your new company will still send that great big semi to your new place and bring lots of nice men to unload it and put everything were you ask them to.
Like civilized people.
Here is a gratuitous shot of only SOME of my myriad strollers waiting to be loaded up. I think that the movers weren't even phased by them, which makes me think some lunatics out there have more strollers than me. Which is madness.
In what serves as only a further coffin nail in anything like regret or worries about the change, my new company's HR Director came over on my move in day, with a care package. Icy cold cokes, chips, PIZZA HUT gift cards ......and some Easter basket goodies for the kids - in case we didn't have time to shop for Easter because of the move.
Because they care, and wanted to us to feel welcome.
It is such a change, I hardly know what to do with the emotions it conjurs up.
Today was my first day at work.
I love it there.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
EXODUS
This is what it looks like 
when your new job hires a professional moving company to relocate you.
Instead of a bunch of jacks who end up breaking your Grandmother's Fostoria Crystal Punch Bowl and handthrown Longaberger pie plate along with various other stemware that wasn't family heirloom that you were fond of nonetheless. Luckily, all that happened 4 years ago and I didn't know that those things had been broken until my new, professional CLASS act movers opened all of the boxes and repackaged stuff.
This is, so far, the exact OPPOSITE of my moving experience from Kentucky to Florida. It's going great. The movers have been nice, courteous, in UNIFORMS - and were digging our CD collection. They even pulled stuff out to listen to as they worked which was fun. They selected the WILLIAM HUNG cd which was even funnier.
The driver brought his giant BIG RIG over today, just to make sure he knew where the place was and to inventory what was going. Lil Satchmo thought that was great.
So all in all.......despite the stress.......Moving is going WELL.
We'll wake up Sunday in our new place. And Monday.....it's off to work! HOOHOOHOO!
Did I mention that I got completely giddy washing work clothes? Seriously. I WASHED SLACKS AND BLOUSES and dug out my work shoes and double checked for knee highs and......realized I was elated.
when your new job hires a professional moving company to relocate you.
Instead of a bunch of jacks who end up breaking your Grandmother's Fostoria Crystal Punch Bowl and handthrown Longaberger pie plate along with various other stemware that wasn't family heirloom that you were fond of nonetheless. Luckily, all that happened 4 years ago and I didn't know that those things had been broken until my new, professional CLASS act movers opened all of the boxes and repackaged stuff.
This is, so far, the exact OPPOSITE of my moving experience from Kentucky to Florida. It's going great. The movers have been nice, courteous, in UNIFORMS - and were digging our CD collection. They even pulled stuff out to listen to as they worked which was fun. They selected the WILLIAM HUNG cd which was even funnier.
The driver brought his giant BIG RIG over today, just to make sure he knew where the place was and to inventory what was going. Lil Satchmo thought that was great.
So all in all.......despite the stress.......Moving is going WELL.
We'll wake up Sunday in our new place. And Monday.....it's off to work! HOOHOOHOO!
Did I mention that I got completely giddy washing work clothes? Seriously. I WASHED SLACKS AND BLOUSES and dug out my work shoes and double checked for knee highs and......realized I was elated.
EXODUS
This is what it looks like
when your new job hires a professional moving company to relocate you.
Instead of a bunch of jacks who end up breaking your Grandmother's Fostoria Crystal Punch Bowl and handthrown Longaberger pie plate along with various other stemware that wasn't family heirloom that you were fond of nonetheless. Luckily, all that happened 4 years ago and I didn't know that those things had been broken until my new, professional CLASS act movers opened all of the boxes and repackaged stuff.
This is, so far, the exact OPPOSITE of my moving experience from Kentucky to Florida. It's going great. The movers have been nice, courteous, in UNIFORMS - and were digging our CD collection. They even pulled stuff out to listen to as they worked which was fun. They selected the WILLIAM HUNG cd which was even funnier.
The driver brought his giant BIG RIG over today, just to make sure he knew where the place was and to inventory what was going. Lil Satchmo thought that was great.
So all in all.......despite the stress.......Moving is going WELL.
We'll wake up Sunday in our new place. And Monday.....it's off to work! HOOHOOHOO!
Did I mention that I got completely giddy washing work clothes? Seriously. I WASHED SLACKS AND BLOUSES and dug out my work shoes and double checked for knee highs and......realized I was elated.
when your new job hires a professional moving company to relocate you.
Instead of a bunch of jacks who end up breaking your Grandmother's Fostoria Crystal Punch Bowl and handthrown Longaberger pie plate along with various other stemware that wasn't family heirloom that you were fond of nonetheless. Luckily, all that happened 4 years ago and I didn't know that those things had been broken until my new, professional CLASS act movers opened all of the boxes and repackaged stuff.
This is, so far, the exact OPPOSITE of my moving experience from Kentucky to Florida. It's going great. The movers have been nice, courteous, in UNIFORMS - and were digging our CD collection. They even pulled stuff out to listen to as they worked which was fun. They selected the WILLIAM HUNG cd which was even funnier.
The driver brought his giant BIG RIG over today, just to make sure he knew where the place was and to inventory what was going. Lil Satchmo thought that was great.
So all in all.......despite the stress.......Moving is going WELL.
We'll wake up Sunday in our new place. And Monday.....it's off to work! HOOHOOHOO!
Did I mention that I got completely giddy washing work clothes? Seriously. I WASHED SLACKS AND BLOUSES and dug out my work shoes and double checked for knee highs and......realized I was elated.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Don't Even TRY To Pull an Uncle Leo On Me
A couple of notes from a moving prep weary woman.
First of all. Let me just back up a little bit to me as a person. I have brothers, not sisters. This means that I don't SHARE Well. At least I don't share my girly stuff well. I never borrowed/loaned sweaters or dresses or hair bobs or anything else. I don't LIKE you touching my girly stuff.
That being said, you can imagine how hard it was for me to STIFLE it when some old dude tried to pull an UNCLE LEO on us at the zoo yesterday.
As I walked down to see the white rhinos with Lil Satchmo I hear my husband (who is pushing the twins several yards behind me) say "Hey, that's my stroller!"
You see we had let the big boy out of his stroller in the Africa pavillion - letting him have a little big boy status, running around to see the baby elephant and everything, and had parked our stroller OVER IN THE STROLLER PARKING AREA.
Husband says again "OLD MAN! THAT IS MY STROLLER! STOP TOUCHING IT"
Apparently, the old guy mumbled something about thinking it was their stroller, and I couldn't see this part - but he was touching my CAMERA (which was in the closed storage compartment on top until Uncle Leo wandered by) and then I hear my husband say "THAT IS MY OLDEST SON'S STROLLER STOP TOUCHING IT".......at which point my husband and I were nearly together again as I was walking back.......
He filled me in that the guy was TOUCHING OUR CAMERA and acting like he was confused about what stroller was his even though the only things our two strollers turned out to have in common was the color. I gave Lil Satchmo to his dad and fetched the stroller, glowering at Uncle Leo......I wanted to call him on it but no harm done. Give me a break,like old people don't steal. If it was a legitimate mistake an appropriate response would've been to take his HANDS OFF and say "Oh Gosh I'm sorry!"
Not to keep fondling my stuff.
Asshat.
Second of all. I'm out of creamer. Milk in coffee tastes like shit. Why is that?
I don't want to buy more creamer until I get to Georgia...I'll be waking up in my new place on Sunday Morning....but DAMMIT it's going to be an annoying three days till that happens. Tomorrow they pack us. Speaking of asshats, the last company that moved us did such and incredibly bad job that I'm still scarred. They took like 18 hours to pack and load us......they were SO sloow it was unbelievable and all the boxes got crushed - I never even unpacked my grandmothers china. I have no hopes of it having survived. I think that's why I didn't unpack it.
Now this morning the driver called bcse he wants to come out tomorrow while they pack to make sure he knows how to get here. I spelled the name of my street 4 times. He kept reading it back to me and saying "MOUNTAINVIEW"........which is NOT, NOT what I said. It rhymes. Sort of. But not exactly. I kept saying NOT MOUNTAINVIEW.......and saying the right word.
Suddenly, I'm not excited.
So, I'm about a day away from being unplugged from you for a while. Which is a drag because I'm a digital crackhead. I don't know how long it will take to get cable and internet and phone etc etc etc all hooked up again. My oldest can't quite grasp the moving thing yet.......he's still trying to understand everything. I was trying to explain about how we won't have cable for a while and he really couldn't fathom that one. The last time we moved, 1000 miles that time, he was 10 months old so he really doesn't remember it. This time we're only moving about 500 miles, but we've added two kids to the process.
So on Friday, when the big semi pulls away, we'll take three kids, three cats and whatever else we can carry and drive north.
Georgia. I hope you are ready for us.
First of all. Let me just back up a little bit to me as a person. I have brothers, not sisters. This means that I don't SHARE Well. At least I don't share my girly stuff well. I never borrowed/loaned sweaters or dresses or hair bobs or anything else. I don't LIKE you touching my girly stuff.
That being said, you can imagine how hard it was for me to STIFLE it when some old dude tried to pull an UNCLE LEO on us at the zoo yesterday.
As I walked down to see the white rhinos with Lil Satchmo I hear my husband (who is pushing the twins several yards behind me) say "Hey, that's my stroller!"
You see we had let the big boy out of his stroller in the Africa pavillion - letting him have a little big boy status, running around to see the baby elephant and everything, and had parked our stroller OVER IN THE STROLLER PARKING AREA.
Husband says again "OLD MAN! THAT IS MY STROLLER! STOP TOUCHING IT"
Apparently, the old guy mumbled something about thinking it was their stroller, and I couldn't see this part - but he was touching my CAMERA (which was in the closed storage compartment on top until Uncle Leo wandered by) and then I hear my husband say "THAT IS MY OLDEST SON'S STROLLER STOP TOUCHING IT".......at which point my husband and I were nearly together again as I was walking back.......
He filled me in that the guy was TOUCHING OUR CAMERA and acting like he was confused about what stroller was his even though the only things our two strollers turned out to have in common was the color. I gave Lil Satchmo to his dad and fetched the stroller, glowering at Uncle Leo......I wanted to call him on it but no harm done. Give me a break,like old people don't steal. If it was a legitimate mistake an appropriate response would've been to take his HANDS OFF and say "Oh Gosh I'm sorry!"
Not to keep fondling my stuff.
Asshat.
Second of all. I'm out of creamer. Milk in coffee tastes like shit. Why is that?
I don't want to buy more creamer until I get to Georgia...I'll be waking up in my new place on Sunday Morning....but DAMMIT it's going to be an annoying three days till that happens. Tomorrow they pack us. Speaking of asshats, the last company that moved us did such and incredibly bad job that I'm still scarred. They took like 18 hours to pack and load us......they were SO sloow it was unbelievable and all the boxes got crushed - I never even unpacked my grandmothers china. I have no hopes of it having survived. I think that's why I didn't unpack it.
Now this morning the driver called bcse he wants to come out tomorrow while they pack to make sure he knows how to get here. I spelled the name of my street 4 times. He kept reading it back to me and saying "MOUNTAINVIEW"........which is NOT, NOT what I said. It rhymes. Sort of. But not exactly. I kept saying NOT MOUNTAINVIEW.......and saying the right word.
Suddenly, I'm not excited.
So, I'm about a day away from being unplugged from you for a while. Which is a drag because I'm a digital crackhead. I don't know how long it will take to get cable and internet and phone etc etc etc all hooked up again. My oldest can't quite grasp the moving thing yet.......he's still trying to understand everything. I was trying to explain about how we won't have cable for a while and he really couldn't fathom that one. The last time we moved, 1000 miles that time, he was 10 months old so he really doesn't remember it. This time we're only moving about 500 miles, but we've added two kids to the process.
So on Friday, when the big semi pulls away, we'll take three kids, three cats and whatever else we can carry and drive north.
Georgia. I hope you are ready for us.
Don't Even TRY To Pull an Uncle Leo On Me
A couple of notes from a moving prep weary woman.
First of all. Let me just back up a little bit to me as a person. I have brothers, not sisters. This means that I don't SHARE Well. At least I don't share my girly stuff well. I never borrowed/loaned sweaters or dresses or hair bobs or anything else. I don't LIKE you touching my girly stuff.
That being said, you can imagine how hard it was for me to STIFLE it when some old dude tried to pull an UNCLE LEO on us at the zoo yesterday.
As I walked down to see the white rhinos with Lil Satchmo I hear my husband (who is pushing the twins several yards behind me) say "Hey, that's my stroller!"
You see we had let the big boy out of his stroller in the Africa pavillion - letting him have a little big boy status, running around to see the baby elephant and everything, and had parked our stroller OVER IN THE STROLLER PARKING AREA.
Husband says again "OLD MAN! THAT IS MY STROLLER! STOP TOUCHING IT"
Apparently, the old guy mumbled something about thinking it was their stroller, and I couldn't see this part - but he was touching my CAMERA (which was in the closed storage compartment on top until Uncle Leo wandered by) and then I hear my husband say "THAT IS MY OLDEST SON'S STROLLER STOP TOUCHING IT".......at which point my husband and I were nearly together again as I was walking back.......
He filled me in that the guy was TOUCHING OUR CAMERA and acting like he was confused about what stroller was his even though the only things our two strollers turned out to have in common was the color. I gave Lil Satchmo to his dad and fetched the stroller, glowering at Uncle Leo......I wanted to call him on it but no harm done. Give me a break,like old people don't steal. If it was a legitimate mistake an appropriate response would've been to take his HANDS OFF and say "Oh Gosh I'm sorry!"
Not to keep fondling my stuff.
Asshat.
Second of all. I'm out of creamer. Milk in coffee tastes like shit. Why is that?
I don't want to buy more creamer until I get to Georgia...I'll be waking up in my new place on Sunday Morning....but DAMMIT it's going to be an annoying three days till that happens. Tomorrow they pack us. Speaking of asshats, the last company that moved us did such and incredibly bad job that I'm still scarred. They took like 18 hours to pack and load us......they were SO sloow it was unbelievable and all the boxes got crushed - I never even unpacked my grandmothers china. I have no hopes of it having survived. I think that's why I didn't unpack it.
Now this morning the driver called bcse he wants to come out tomorrow while they pack to make sure he knows how to get here. I spelled the name of my street 4 times. He kept reading it back to me and saying "MOUNTAINVIEW"........which is NOT, NOT what I said. It rhymes. Sort of. But not exactly. I kept saying NOT MOUNTAINVIEW.......and saying the right word.
Suddenly, I'm not excited.
So, I'm about a day away from being unplugged from you for a while. Which is a drag because I'm a digital crackhead. I don't know how long it will take to get cable and internet and phone etc etc etc all hooked up again. My oldest can't quite grasp the moving thing yet.......he's still trying to understand everything. I was trying to explain about how we won't have cable for a while and he really couldn't fathom that one. The last time we moved, 1000 miles that time, he was 10 months old so he really doesn't remember it. This time we're only moving about 500 miles, but we've added two kids to the process.
So on Friday, when the big semi pulls away, we'll take three kids, three cats and whatever else we can carry and drive north.
Georgia. I hope you are ready for us.
First of all. Let me just back up a little bit to me as a person. I have brothers, not sisters. This means that I don't SHARE Well. At least I don't share my girly stuff well. I never borrowed/loaned sweaters or dresses or hair bobs or anything else. I don't LIKE you touching my girly stuff.
That being said, you can imagine how hard it was for me to STIFLE it when some old dude tried to pull an UNCLE LEO on us at the zoo yesterday.
As I walked down to see the white rhinos with Lil Satchmo I hear my husband (who is pushing the twins several yards behind me) say "Hey, that's my stroller!"
You see we had let the big boy out of his stroller in the Africa pavillion - letting him have a little big boy status, running around to see the baby elephant and everything, and had parked our stroller OVER IN THE STROLLER PARKING AREA.
Husband says again "OLD MAN! THAT IS MY STROLLER! STOP TOUCHING IT"
Apparently, the old guy mumbled something about thinking it was their stroller, and I couldn't see this part - but he was touching my CAMERA (which was in the closed storage compartment on top until Uncle Leo wandered by) and then I hear my husband say "THAT IS MY OLDEST SON'S STROLLER STOP TOUCHING IT".......at which point my husband and I were nearly together again as I was walking back.......
He filled me in that the guy was TOUCHING OUR CAMERA and acting like he was confused about what stroller was his even though the only things our two strollers turned out to have in common was the color. I gave Lil Satchmo to his dad and fetched the stroller, glowering at Uncle Leo......I wanted to call him on it but no harm done. Give me a break,like old people don't steal. If it was a legitimate mistake an appropriate response would've been to take his HANDS OFF and say "Oh Gosh I'm sorry!"
Not to keep fondling my stuff.
Asshat.
Second of all. I'm out of creamer. Milk in coffee tastes like shit. Why is that?
I don't want to buy more creamer until I get to Georgia...I'll be waking up in my new place on Sunday Morning....but DAMMIT it's going to be an annoying three days till that happens. Tomorrow they pack us. Speaking of asshats, the last company that moved us did such and incredibly bad job that I'm still scarred. They took like 18 hours to pack and load us......they were SO sloow it was unbelievable and all the boxes got crushed - I never even unpacked my grandmothers china. I have no hopes of it having survived. I think that's why I didn't unpack it.
Now this morning the driver called bcse he wants to come out tomorrow while they pack to make sure he knows how to get here. I spelled the name of my street 4 times. He kept reading it back to me and saying "MOUNTAINVIEW"........which is NOT, NOT what I said. It rhymes. Sort of. But not exactly. I kept saying NOT MOUNTAINVIEW.......and saying the right word.
Suddenly, I'm not excited.
So, I'm about a day away from being unplugged from you for a while. Which is a drag because I'm a digital crackhead. I don't know how long it will take to get cable and internet and phone etc etc etc all hooked up again. My oldest can't quite grasp the moving thing yet.......he's still trying to understand everything. I was trying to explain about how we won't have cable for a while and he really couldn't fathom that one. The last time we moved, 1000 miles that time, he was 10 months old so he really doesn't remember it. This time we're only moving about 500 miles, but we've added two kids to the process.
So on Friday, when the big semi pulls away, we'll take three kids, three cats and whatever else we can carry and drive north.
Georgia. I hope you are ready for us.
Monday, April 02, 2007
MARSHALL, WILL AND HOLLY
On a Routine Expedition.......
Met the greatest earthquake ever known.
High on the rapids it struck their tiny raft.
And plunged them down a thousand feet below.
To the land of the lost.........
To the land of the lost.........
To the LAND
Of
The
LOST
MARSHALL, WILL AND HOLLY
On a Routine Expedition.......
Met the greatest earthquake ever known.
High on the rapids it struck their tiny raft.
And plunged them down a thousand feet below.
To the land of the lost.........
To the land of the lost.........
To the LAND
Of
The
LOST
Here I GO Here I GO Here I GO AGAIN
First of all, no. I'm not changing the name of the blog. I realize I'm leaving the dangling WANG but I am only moving up to the scrotum, nestling my family somewhere snuggly in the vas deferens of this country. As long as I reside somewhere in the naughty bits of this great land, the name stays the same. I might CONSIDER changing it if I moved, oh, up to the liver or the spleen (you know who you are, DELAWARE). But for now........now. Wang it stays.
Second of all.
OMG.
I'm moving.
Have I actually articulated how much I love Florida? I mean, summer of the hurricanes and all? In Florida I made some of the best adult friends I've ever made that I didn't work with. Which is really hard to do. Do YOU have any friends you don't work with, working "outside the home" moms? I also made some really good work friends. So, leaving them is going to be really hard. Which brings me to my point.
I ugh, I might have not seen you and the movers are coming this week and I'm leaving. And I'm excited about the new job, and the new town and the change. But I am not excited about leaving you. About only seeing you once a year or less. About not planning to do stuff, about seeing or hearing things locally to talk about. I am not excited to be the one exiting this life. Because your lives go on, as normal.
And if I see you, well.........it will be painfully clear that the things you talk about in the future tense do not include me. And you don't mean it spitefully, but it's going to hurt. I am bad at being disincluded. It makes me really sad. Like a 12 year old girl, sad.
And there is this part of me, that feels like, if I don't say goodbye to you.....then I'm not saying goodbye to you. Didn't I just see you yesterday, anyway? (See how this works....I'm already working it out in my mind.)
Second of all.
OMG.
I'm moving.
Have I actually articulated how much I love Florida? I mean, summer of the hurricanes and all? In Florida I made some of the best adult friends I've ever made that I didn't work with. Which is really hard to do. Do YOU have any friends you don't work with, working "outside the home" moms? I also made some really good work friends. So, leaving them is going to be really hard. Which brings me to my point.
I ugh, I might have not seen you and the movers are coming this week and I'm leaving. And I'm excited about the new job, and the new town and the change. But I am not excited about leaving you. About only seeing you once a year or less. About not planning to do stuff, about seeing or hearing things locally to talk about. I am not excited to be the one exiting this life. Because your lives go on, as normal.
And if I see you, well.........it will be painfully clear that the things you talk about in the future tense do not include me. And you don't mean it spitefully, but it's going to hurt. I am bad at being disincluded. It makes me really sad. Like a 12 year old girl, sad.
And there is this part of me, that feels like, if I don't say goodbye to you.....then I'm not saying goodbye to you. Didn't I just see you yesterday, anyway? (See how this works....I'm already working it out in my mind.)
Here I GO Here I GO Here I GO AGAIN
First of all, no. I'm not changing the name of the blog. I realize I'm leaving the dangling WANG but I am only moving up to the scrotum, nestling my family somewhere snuggly in the vas deferens of this country. As long as I reside somewhere in the naughty bits of this great land, the name stays the same. I might CONSIDER changing it if I moved, oh, up to the liver or the spleen (you know who you are, DELAWARE). But for now........now. Wang it stays.
Second of all.
OMG.
I'm moving.
Have I actually articulated how much I love Florida? I mean, summer of the hurricanes and all? In Florida I made some of the best adult friends I've ever made that I didn't work with. Which is really hard to do. Do YOU have any friends you don't work with, working "outside the home" moms? I also made some really good work friends. So, leaving them is going to be really hard. Which brings me to my point.
I ugh, I might have not seen you and the movers are coming this week and I'm leaving. And I'm excited about the new job, and the new town and the change. But I am not excited about leaving you. About only seeing you once a year or less. About not planning to do stuff, about seeing or hearing things locally to talk about. I am not excited to be the one exiting this life. Because your lives go on, as normal.
And if I see you, well.........it will be painfully clear that the things you talk about in the future tense do not include me. And you don't mean it spitefully, but it's going to hurt. I am bad at being disincluded. It makes me really sad. Like a 12 year old girl, sad.
And there is this part of me, that feels like, if I don't say goodbye to you.....then I'm not saying goodbye to you. Didn't I just see you yesterday, anyway? (See how this works....I'm already working it out in my mind.)
Second of all.
OMG.
I'm moving.
Have I actually articulated how much I love Florida? I mean, summer of the hurricanes and all? In Florida I made some of the best adult friends I've ever made that I didn't work with. Which is really hard to do. Do YOU have any friends you don't work with, working "outside the home" moms? I also made some really good work friends. So, leaving them is going to be really hard. Which brings me to my point.
I ugh, I might have not seen you and the movers are coming this week and I'm leaving. And I'm excited about the new job, and the new town and the change. But I am not excited about leaving you. About only seeing you once a year or less. About not planning to do stuff, about seeing or hearing things locally to talk about. I am not excited to be the one exiting this life. Because your lives go on, as normal.
And if I see you, well.........it will be painfully clear that the things you talk about in the future tense do not include me. And you don't mean it spitefully, but it's going to hurt. I am bad at being disincluded. It makes me really sad. Like a 12 year old girl, sad.
And there is this part of me, that feels like, if I don't say goodbye to you.....then I'm not saying goodbye to you. Didn't I just see you yesterday, anyway? (See how this works....I'm already working it out in my mind.)
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Thank You Easter Bunny - BAWK BAWK
I normally take a lot of time picking out the outfits and making sure the pics like this are just so. BUT - we're moving. They were clean, we were at the the mall....the bunny was available.
So - behold.
Easter Bunny Pic 07.
So - behold.
Easter Bunny Pic 07.
Thank You Easter Bunny - BAWK BAWK
I normally take a lot of time picking out the outfits and making sure the pics like this are just so. BUT - we're moving. They were clean, we were at the the mall....the bunny was available.
So - behold.
Easter Bunny Pic 07.
So - behold.
Easter Bunny Pic 07.
