Sunday, December 11, 2005
I am getting ready to complete my 34th year on earth, and begin the journey of my 35th. I look back on the last year of my life and realize SO much has happened. I started this year with a great job, a wonderful group of friends, and a general sense of peace and well-being in my universe. I have experienced profound joy, happiness, sadness, tragedy and sorrow. I saw devastation, wedding bliss, death of a loved one and making a cross-country move.
And through all of this, I have become a stronger, more secure and independant person. My marriage has become more comfortable, and I am blessed to have such a wonderful man with whom to spend my life.
My son is becoming a more thoughtful and sensitive individual, and I like to think that it is because of a joint effort from all of his parents.
In all fairness, my life is not always sunshine and roses. There are days when I am so disjointed I want to cry. But those days are not outnumbered by the days in which I wake up every morning and thank God that I am alive, and healthy, and that I have the best group of friends and family in my life that anyone could or would ask for.
Thank you God, for another year.
Monday, November 28, 2005
This is going to be another post about my absolutely gorgeous son. But it is also going to include some pics of my equally adorable nephew.
Thanksgiving was at my house this weekend, with the kickoff start of the snow we woke up to on the ground on Thursday morning. I remember my alarm going off, and stumbling downstairs to start the coffee. I looked around at my kitchen, making small mental notes as to what needed to be finished before the weekend feast.
I realized that there were some tools on the kitchen table that needed to be put back in the garage, and decided to take them out. As I looked outside, I had to focus and make my mind believe what my eye was seeing. SNOW! A good two inches! I raced upstairs, recreating the sound of an elephant stampede, raced into the bedroom, and pulled up the blinds. "BONE!" I said "LOOK!" Chris, without even sitting up, said "We got snow, didn't we?" And yes, kids, yes, we did.
He absolutely could not get enough of the snow. And the hot chocolate with marshmallows that I made sure was waiting for him when he was finished.
We had a fabulous Thanksgiving, lots of fun and family, and an all-out blast of a snowball fight right before dinner. Chris made snowballs for the kids while they attacked me, my sister, her boyfriend, my mom and dad! We all laughed so hard! It was by far one of the best Thanksgivings we've had in a long time.
The boys had a great time, and Kristofer taught Logan how to play basketball on Playstation2. We all stood in the living room and cheered while my nephew made dunk after dunk and thought he was the coolest thing since Kareem Abdul-Jabar!
I love my two boys. My son and my nephew.
And I love my family.
It was certainly a Happy Thanksgiving.
Look at these faces - would they lie to you?
Monday, November 21, 2005
And here we are, at the bottom third of November, and getting into the wild ride we call "The Holidays".
It starts at a feverish pitch with the merchandising and the Pre-Thanksgiving sales, and the Lowest Prices of the Season. My mailbox is stuffed full every day with flyers advertising sales at Filene's (Robinson's May and Famous Barr for you Midwest and West Coasters). They always include that wonderful little additional 20% off card.
Then comes Turkey Day. A day to be thankful. A day to reflect on all of your blessings over the past year and to give THANKS.
And to not drink too much, cause you gotta be up for the Black Friday sales the next day.
I've had a lot to reflect on this past year. It's been a very hectic third and fourth quarter for Chris and I. It's been something to be thankful for.
That and the 20% off card.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Most of you who know me know that I love everything that has to do with dancing. I love the physical movement of dance, the music that you just can't help but dance to, whether it's tapping your foot or going into full-blown convulsions on the dance floor.
There are only a few dance songs that I feel are requirements to dance to. Anything with J.Lo - you gotta DANCE! Same with Prince.
So watch my blog for some great videos of my favorite dance songs.
And at the very least, tap your damn foot!
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
My son is growing up. I am facing that shocking reality more and more every day. I still remember the little baby that I held so closely shortly after he was born, and willed him to fight, willed him to live. Kristofer was a preemie, by 8 weeks, 4 pounds, 15 ounces of fighting little newborn.
You would never know it to look at him now. He's almost as tall as I am. And he's 11. And a half. He likes Star Wars and video games. Football and bike riding. Cartoons and drawing them. He's a well-rounded little boy.
I am a proud mama.
Anyway, it is a hinderance to the things I need to get done. I have errands to run. We are supposed to be closing on our house this week. This rain is irritating to say the least.
Rain rain go away. Come again some other day. Preferably not for a long while.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
As of September 23, I was still a resident of San Diego County. Now here I am, 18 days later, and I am a resident of Hartford County. I used to live a short distance from the Mexico border. Now I live a short distance from the Canadian border. I went from sunny weather and 76 degrees to cloudy, overcast and raining since Saturday, and 53 degrees. It was 53 degrees this morning! And it did NOT warm up. I had to go buy a sweater. I had all my winter stuff packed by the moving company. I figured I wouldn't need it. Riiiiight.
The saddest part of the whole event? I grew up here! Granted I haven't lived here since I was 19, and most of you know how old I am and can do the math. For the others, let's just say it's been a while. And I went directly to the Valley of the Sun, where my wardrobe consisted of shorts and tank tops for years.
In that matter of time, we have managed to buy a house. This now consumes my day. There are inspections to have and appraisals to order. There are Town Halls to visit and Lawyers to hire. Oh yea, I am SO living in New England. Town Hall and Lawyer? Shit! In Arizona, you make an offer, do your appraisal, and move in 30 days later. Think I will actually HAVE a house by the 28th now that we have to involve lawyers? I already know what your answer is.
In the meantime, I have been living what I call the "Desperate Housewife" life. I imagine what it would be like to be famous and to live in a hotel. And order room service and have the maids (cleaning attendants?) come in and make my bed and clean my bathroom and replace my towels and soap and toothpaste and coffee. I go to breakfast every morning in the dining room (hot breakfast - I have grits with brown sugar and butter every morning!). I usually try to do something mid-morning to waste some time. This morning I had to run a check up to the real estate company for the house. Then I went to the mall and to Kohl's. I then had lunch.
As I was in the mall, I looked at the SAHM's (Stay-At-Home-Mom's) around me. They were here because they couldn't take the kids to the park and let them run their excess energy out in a flurry of swings and teeter-totters. I strolled the mall and caught more than one furtive jealous glance that I had no ankle-biters strolling along with me.
I made my way back to our temporary quarters, AKA the Hotel. I laid down and napped.
Tomorrow, I have to do laundry. I found a cute little laundromat where the old ladies were really fun to talk to last week. I'm going back there.
Friday I have a job interview. I'm in no hurry, but God knows I could use the distraction. Although, I wouldn't mind waiting until we are moved in. Then I could get us settled and unpacked and feel more rooted before I run off to work.
The good news is that I will have lots and lots of time to update my blog. So look for more updates from me.
Ta-ta for now!
Monday, October 03, 2005
#17: Take a cross-country road trip.
Chris recently got promoted for his job and we were transferred to Connecticut. The company packed us all up and then told us they would only move one car. Only one? Great! We'll take advantage of this opportunity and do a cross-country road trip! What could be better to see the great sights of this great land then by car? So we packed up our game and headed out East. Our first stop - Phoenix, Arizona. We spent some time with family and said "See ya later". Cause we don't say goodbye. Next stop? Gallup, New Mexico. A small town that seemed to be having some sort of AARP convention. We spent the night there. This was Saturday night. San Diego to Gallup, NM.
The next morning we started out from Gallup and made it all the way to Tulsa, Oklahoma. Let me tell you - this had to be the MOST boing part of the drive. Straight, flat roads. Weird, rock configuration type mountains. We spent the night in Tulsa. This was Sunday night. Gallup, NM to Tulsa, OK.
The next morning we started out from Tulsa and made it all the way to Indianapolis, IN. Home of NASCAR. And the Indy 500. And let me tell you, these people LOVE their racing! We spent the night there. This was Monday night. Tulsa, OK to Indianapolis, IN.
Tuesday morning, our goal was to make it to Harrisburg, PA. We were going to stop there before heading to my parents house for a couple of days of R&R. But Chris and I decided we could. Go. All. The. Way. And we did. This was Tuesday night. Indianapolis, IN, to Toms River, New Jersey.
We spent Wednesday through Saturday morning with my family. After breakfast on Saturday, we headed to Connecticut. Three and a half hours later, we were settled into our hotel room. We had made it.
The cross-country trip seemed more like a race to the finish. But it's a new journey. And as far as I know, it still counts as a cross-country trip.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Here we go:
What I Was Doing:
Ten Years Ago:
My son had just turned 1, and I was living in Paradise Valley - a suburb of Phoenix with his father. We had just gotten married (July 1) and I was settling into that role.
Five Years Ago:
Living with my boyfriend, Chris (now husband). We met in March of 1999, so we were enjoying our time together. Oh - and we were in the midst of building a house.
One Year Ago:
Getting used to living in San Diego. Chris got transferred from Phoenix, and we moved at the end of February. Working at a job I hated - only because my boss was a micro-managing bitch.
Sitting on the beach in Coronado watching my son boogie-board with two of his friends from Phoenix. My friend Tina and her two kids came out and visited us for the weekend. It was a fantastically relaxing day.
5 Snacks That I Enjoy:
Snyders Butter Flavored Pretzels
Chocolate Chip Cookies
5 Things I Would Do With $100 Million:
Buy a house for us
Send my son to an Ivy League School
Buy my parents and Chris' parents a house
Set up a retirement fund
Donate to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation
5 Locations I Would Like To Run Away To:
St. Thomas, USVI
5 Bad Habits I Have:
Cursing too much
Biting my nails when I am nervous
Being a little too judgmental at times
Being too upfront at times
5 Things I Like Doing:
Laying on the beach
Cuddling with my son
Talking to my husband - he always makes me laugh
5 Things I Would Never Wear:
One of those backless shirts
Chain Mail Clothing
Blue Eyeshadow (Unless it's Halloween)
Clear plastic shoes
A Size 0 (thanks Snark!)
5 TV Shows I Like:
Without A Trace
5 Biggest Joys of the Moment:
I have a great husband
I have a great son
I have a great job
I like where I live
I have great friends
5 Favorite Toys:
My Senseo One-Cup coffeemaker
My car (yes, my car!)
My DVR - commercial free TV is the way to go!
My handheld Yahtzee game
Now It's YOUR Turn!
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
We walked about twenty feet before I made up my mind that I had to have him. He was cute, cuddly, and was calling my name. I could hear it.
We brought him home and named him Sebastian. He was a 6 week old Chow/Golden Retriever mix. We took him to the PetSmart and spent the rent money on getting him the "essentials". We bought him a dog dish, some toys, a leash and collar, a brush, some more toys, some treats, some shampoo, some more toys, puppy pee-wee pads, and this wonderful stuff you put on your carpet after they boo-boo, so they don't boo-boo there again. Oh - and some toys.
At first, he was not having anything to do with going up and down the stairs of our apartment, so we had to carry him. After a little while, and a lot of dog bones dipped in peanut butter, he was getting a bit large to carry up and down the stairs, so we made him climb them. He got over it and was soon a champ.
We moved into our house shortly thereafter and bought Sebastian a doggy-door. It took us two days to train him to use it, but he got the idea. We also trained him to sit, lay down, stay, and give a high-five. Yes, my dog would jump up and paw your hand in a high five gesture. He rocked.
When Chris got transferred to San Diego, Sebastian rode in the back of the car, loving life and the fact that we were finally taking him with us on a "vacation". He acclimated to San Diego quickly, loving the milder temps and the doggie beaches. He really LOVED the doggie beach.
About three weeks ago, Sebastian stopped eating his food. We figured he was just tired of his food, because he is a little Jewish man with fur, and stubborn and spoiled as hell. So we changed his food. He didn't like that either. So we boiled chicken and cut it up, and hand fed it to him and he ate that. And he would eat his T-Bonz. Problem is, we fed him a T-Bonz on Sunday night, and on Monday morning, he puked it up. Whole.
Chris took him to the doctor. Tuesday the doc called and said that Sebastian was in severe kidney failure. There was treatment, but he was pretty bad, so it wasn't guaranteed. We made the heart-breaking and immensely difficult decision to put him down. Chris and I took him in on Wednesday, said our goodbyes, and let the staff take him away. Afterwards, they set him up in a room, and we went in and said goodbye again.
This was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. Chris agrees. We miss him, and strangely enough, we both sometimes still hear the click-click of his nails on the sidewalk, or his whining at the door. Give 'em hell up there baby! Give 'em hell.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
For some of you, this may not be a life-changing event, but for me, it's HUGE. My dad is a great man. It took me a long time to realize it, but I did right around the time I pulled my head out of my ass and realized I was a young punk kid who had no idea what the hell I was doing in this world. I was about 25.
My dad married my mom when I was about 6. I remember the wedding and thinking how LONG it was taking, cause I was only 6 and therefore, had the patience of a gnat. I was my mother's flower girl (of course) and my godmother was her Matron of Honor. My mother made her own dress, because my parents weren't well-off or anything, and my dad wore his best cream colored polyester suit. He looked like Elvis.
My dad raised and took care of me like I was his very own flesh and blood. The sperm donor who contributed to my zygote is and always will be a pathetic loser who has no sense of responsibility, but I'll save that for another post. In the meantime, let's move on.
I never felt like I was the red-headed step-child (which is funny, because I WAS a red-headed step-child!), because my dad included me on everything. He taught me how to swing a bat, throw a football, and change the oil in my car. He taught me how to chop wood, climb trees, and swing on a tire. My dad rocked.
Then I turned 15, and my dad sucked. At least, in my eyes he did. I hated how tough and strict he was, and I hated that he didn't understand what it was like to be a teenage girl. Most of all, I hated that he wouldn't let me do the things that all of my other friends got to do. Like date, and wear make-up. Yep, my dad was STRICT.
My dad was a deacon in our church. He taught us from the very start that God loved us unconditionally, and he emulated that love as much as possible. Sure, I got my ass busted, but you know what? I am a productive member of society. I have never performed a drive-by shooting. I have never robbed a bank. I have never beat someone to within an inch of their lives and when asked in court why I did it, blamed it on the fact that I was spanked as a child. As far as I am concerned, there aren't enough children getting their asses busted these days.
Whoa - before you get all high and mighty on me and tell me how awful I am for condoning spanking, I repeat - I had my ASS BUSTED on more than one occasion. And I am JUST FINE. There's a difference between having your ass busted, and getting beaten by an abusive parent. And truth be told, abusive parents are going to abuse their children whether spanking is against the law or not. So get over it. Moving on.
My dad adopted me when I was 16. I had always used his last name, but this made it official. Not that a piece of paper made me any more his daughter, because there was never a hiccup in the process.
When I turned 18, I high-tailed it out of that little town I grew up in and headed to the big city of Phoenix, Arizona. I thought I knew it ALL. My dad was disappointed, and I knew it, but I didn't care. It took me 7 long years to realize that I had been an idiot, and to this day, I feel terrible for hurting my dad like I did when I left the way I did.
But, being the awesome guy that he is, he has since forgiven me. He gave me away at my wedding. The first time the man has ever worn a tux, and I got him to do it.
Monday was his birthday, and I called his cell phone to wish him a happy birthday. I got his voice mail, so I tried again. I got his voice mail again, so I left a message. I sent a homemade card too. He called me today, to thank me for calling him and to thank me for the card.
I love my dad. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love ya!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Now it is yet again another weekend and I am dreading it. I am dreading the passing of yet another weekend in a flurry of activity that the husband and I partake in to pass the time.
I want to relax.
The problem with that, is that I see what needs to be done around the house, and I can't relax.
So tomorrow night, I am doing laundry, and vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom.
So I can relax.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
In college, we are disappointed at the fact that not only do we HAVE to take a Poly-Sci class, but it happens to be at 8:00 in the morning.
As adults, we are disappointed by many things. Our jobs, our friends, our husbands, even our children. Disappointment is a way of life, but we never really get used to it.
Such is the situation that The Hub and I recently found ourselves in. After emotionally investing ourselves in a house that we were having built, and through no fault of our own, we found ourselves suddenly losing the house. It was a mathematical error on the part of the loan company, but nonetheless, we were still disappointed. We were thisclose to being homeowners in this beautiful town, and now we are back to square one.
I had been an emotional wreck for about a week, and bitterness and anger were left to creep in. I decided that I couldn't BE that emotional wreck, and that things had to progress. So I picked, myself up, brushed myself off, and moved on.
Ready for the next disappointment.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I want to PLAY.
We were supposed to go to Maui this weekend. A nice, five day trip to the sun and fun that is the tropical isle. But instead, something with his work came up and now we can't go. So we are relegated to a quick two day trip to Phoenix. Which in and of itself is going to be nice too, we'll get to see some of our friends, and my son, but it's not Maui.
I need a nap.
Monday, May 09, 2005
So we head home at about 11:30. We decide to play some Texas Hold 'Em. It gets down to the Hub and I at the table and we agree to split the money, cause we could have been there all night, and well, I wasn't in the mood.
Now it's time for bed. Only A isn't ready for bed. It's 2:00 a.m. and the boys have to be up in about three hours. They were headed out on a deep sea fishing trip first thing in the morning and the boat left at 6:30, with or without them. So we get A to bed. He's pretty drinky, cause he doesn't drinky very much anymore. He asks The Hub to put SportsCenter on for him, so he does, and then comes in and lays down.
Not even ten seconds later, we hear A yell about something on SportsCenter, and in the pitch dark of the house, drunk and not knowing the layout, he comes hauling balls into our room. He trips over the door jam and face plants into the corner of my bed. The Hub and I feel the bed shake, and he gets up and the convo goes something like this:
Hub: Dude, you alright?
Adam: Dude, I think I'm bleeding.
Hub: You're bleeding?
Adam: Yeah, I think I am.
So A goes to the bathroom and Hub gets up and turns on the lights. I get up and there is BLOOD EVERYWHERE. It is on my floor, and on my dresser, and on my comforter, and up my WALL. If this were an episode of CSI, we'd be going to jail fo' sho'. So I get a washcloth and start to clean it up. The Hub goes into the bathroom and I hear him say "Dude, you need stitches." And I hear A say "Nah, I'm alright." And I hear the Hub say "No, really, you need stitches." And I'm cleaning up the crime scene and thinking, MY GOD, it is 2:15 in the morning! On Cinco De Freaking Mayo. We're NEVER getting out of the ER tonight. So I go look.
A had a gash in his upper lip about an inch and a half long, with a piece of his lip hanging. And then, just below his nose on the same side, a two inch open gash. Where his teeth went through. So I get dressed and take the Banger Brothers to the ER. Surprisingly, there was only one other person ahead of him. They took him in, sewed him up, and we were off. We got home at about 4:00 a.m. I had literally been awake for 22 hours. I got him rested, and I got the Hub in bed, and I passed out.
For an hour, until I had to get up and make coffee and get the boys out the door.
It was going to be a long weekend.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Hub and I met six years ago in a bar in Tempe, Arizona. He was 23, I was 27. I had gone through a divorce, and for the record, was NOT in the mood for a boyfriend, committment, whatever. Yup, I was looking for some ass. Call me crazy, call me a slut, but guys do it all the time.
I'll spare you the details, mainly because HE doesn't remember it right, ever, but we danced and laughed and he walked me to my car. When he asked me for my number, I told him I had a 4 year old son. He didn't even blink and said "OK". I gave him my number and we parted ways.
He called me the next day. And came and took me and my roommate out to lunch. And PAID for it. **sigh**
We made plans to go out again. He said to call him. I did, and got his answering machine. With a girl's voice on it. I'm sorry, let me repeat that **ahem** (bullhorn voice) With A GIRL'S voice on it.
Can you even imagine the conversation that went on between my roommate and I after that phone call? I left a message. I figured if he had a girlfriend, she needed to know what the dirty dog was up to. Hmph. I'll show him. I never expected to hear from him again.
But he called. And the voice? It was HIS roommate. Who wound up being one of my bridesmaid's, but I'm rushing ahead.
I'll spare you the details of the next six years, but I'll sum it up - we started dating, moved in together, built a house, got married, and moved to San Diego. In that order. With some other stuff thrown in for good measure.
And today, he gave up going to Happy Hour and a ballgame with some friends from work to spend his birthday with me.
His best friend.
Monday, April 25, 2005
I have only heard this expression twice in my life and both times were from two people who crack my shit up on a consistent basis. They know who they are.
Anyway, Captain Save-A-Ho likes the ladies. He likes to be with the ladies. He likes the ladies to adore him, cause, well, he saves the Ho's. And I mean the word 'Ho' in a good way. Like a generalism for women who like to be saved, anyway.
Captain Save-A-Ho's weakness is this: He thinks he's a player, but in all actuality, he's really not. The boy has about as much game as halftime at an NCAA tournament. He's obvious, obnoxious, and for crying out loud, let me introduce you to 24 Hour Fitness, cause the last time I checked, only pregnant women should have a gut like that. And while you are at it, let's do some manscaping. Let me introduce you to Mr. Tweezer and Miss Conditioner. And for all that is holy, would you mind washing out the old gel before inserting the new? You look like FogHorn Leghorn with that cock-a-doodle mohawk going on.
Alas, tho, Captain Save-A-Ho has redeeming qualities. He's nice, he's generous, and he will make the woman he is with at the time feel like she is the only woman in the world.
Well, at least until the next Ho walks by.
Look - up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's........
Ah - you get it.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Remember the days when we wouldn't have to put warnings on stuff? I am reminded of the time the lady that spilled hot McDonald's coffee on her lap sued them because there was no warning on the cup that it was hot. I shook my head and chalked it up to stupid. I mean really, who doesn't know that coffee is HOT? And lately, the prescription drug ads have this former auctioneer at the end rattling off the possible side effects of said drug. It goes something like this: Warning: extended use of medication may cause drowsiness, sleeplessness, constipation, diarrhea, low blood pressure, high blood pressure, anxiety, depression and death. Wha?
The latest round of crazy people have decided to sue the fast food companies for making them fat. Oh - right! Because every time I go to a fast food restaurant, they open my mouth forcefully and jam those fats and carbs and calories down my throat. Ummm...NO! I am fully aware of the consequences of the McGriddle Sandwich. I know that my ever-expanding ass is the result of too many Pepsi's and KFC mashed potato's and not enough exercising. I also know that I have no one to blame but myself for the actions I take that result in the consequences I get that are my life.
So this morning when the radio alarm went off, I rolled over and instead of hitting snooze, started listening to what the DJ's were talking about. They were talking about whether or not you as a listening audience would report someone that you saw shoplifting to the store manager. I am thinking "Hell ya, I would!" Well, this rocket-scientist slash brain surgeon calls in and says "What about kleptomaniacs? They can't help themselves. You would rat them out? Maybe you should just mind your own business and leave them alone." And the DJ, who I could tell was taken aback AND pissed off at the same time, says "Are you kidding me? Maybe if they get caught, they would get the help they need?" Rocket-scientist disagreed, repeating herself, "They can't help it."
To quote Chris Rock "Whatever happened to just crazy?"
So what she is saying is that Serial Sex Offenders can't help themselves, so we just let them go on about their business? Well, call Michael Jackson's attorney and tell him that Mikey is free! Let him go on doing what he's doing, cause he can't help himself! Boy won't the County of Los Angeles and mothers of boys EVERYWHERE be happy?
Why are we, as a society, so quick to throw a new drug at someone, rather than finding a cure for what ails them? I admit, I am one of those hesitant ones who do not believe that medication is the key. I have to be hurting pretty bad to take ANY medication. I was passing kidney stones one weekend and refused to take the Vicodin the doc gave me. Not only that, but I went to Rocky Point for the weekend, strainer and all.
If it were up to me, NO ONE would be medicated so easily. Oh sure, I believe in imbalances in brain chemicals - but dammit, what is the CAUSE? Like I always say, the money is in the treatment, not the cure. I am also not talking about those who have grave illnesses, like cancer and leukemia. I am speaking about women and men who tell their doctor that they just aren't feeling good so the doc throws a med at them. When I don't feel good, I go on vacation! And damn if I don't feel like a champ when I get back. Depressed because your neighbor's lawn looks better than yours? Take this drug! Upset because the laundry isn't dry yet? Take this one! Oh - and if you really feel bad because you don't have the capacity to deal with life and would rather blame everyone around you - I'll give you two to take!
I have a good friend who's father sexually abused her and her sister. She does NOT use it as a crutch, she does NOT take medication for it. She built a bridge and GOT OVER IT. She is one of my heros.
Ever watch the Discovery Channel? Ever watch when they go deep into the Amazon and find a tribe that has been living, happily and drug free, for years and years? Ever wonder WHY?
Oh sure, we can blame pollutants, and preservatives, and radio waves, and, and, and...
But when is the time for us to take up the responsibility of our own actions? When?
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
1. A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation, especially one with pay granted to an employee.
2. A holiday.
3. A fixed period of holidays, especially one during which a school, court, or business suspends activities.
I need one of those, badly. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and nothing sounds better to me right now than laying on a beach somewhere (other than here) with a drink in my hand listening to the waves crash against the rocks.
The Hub needs a vacation also. So, we have decided, with a group of close friends, to head to Maui for a long weekend. Leave on a Friday, come back on a Wednesday morning.
I love Maui and I cannot wait. Here's to Mai Tai's and crashing waves. I can hear them already!
Friday, April 15, 2005
Here's a quick rundown of the process:
You visit countless, endless communities and finally find a house you are happy with. And when I say 'happy', I mean that is bigger than a breadbox and doesn't need at least $100,000 worth of remodeling. Hence the new construction we went after. And of course, even after we found said house, we still looked at about twelve more communities, just to be sure.
The next step to this mad dance is to get "Pre-Qualified". Now mind you, this is NOT the same as being pre-approved, it is simply a process by which they pull your credit, verify your income, make sure you don't have another mortgage out there somewhere (a trick they use to deter investors), and laugh hysterically at your application while imagining you selling your body parts on EBay to make this ridiculously high payment. Hey, who says bankers are stuffy?
Once you are Pre-Qual'ed, you go on a priority list. Which is basically a score card for who can get the most suckers reeled in for the week. I believe Vegas has a seedy betting room for the over/under on this one. And then you wait. And wait. And. Wait. See, the builder is trying to populate his Pre-Qual list, even though he knows damn well that he only plans on releasing maybe five or six houses, and the list is twenty or thirty deep.
We got Pre-Qual'ed about three weeks ago. And have. Been. Waiting. Can you tell my patience is running thin?
I have the sales office on speed dial. I call at least once a week. The Hub calls at least once a week. And sometimes, we call pretending we are strangers and just want to know if anything is getting released. Have I heard anything yet? Nope. Not a damn thing. Just that they "hope" that they will be released this weekend, and oh gosh, they thought they would release them last weekend. Yeah, that would have been nice.
So imagine this: people clawing and scratching to get a house. Clawing and scratching.
All for the privilege of a $3100 house payment. That of course, is with taxes, interest, HOA, and Mello-Roos.
I feel honored. Now just release my damn house already.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
My friend, Rika, who has forayed from the world of higher education to the world of higher caffeine, has weird hours. She works at a coffee house for cripes sake, so she has to be up at like 2 in the morning. I remember when she and I used to go out party and not go to BED until 2 in the morning. And that was if there was no after-party. Now we're in our 30's, and responsible, and we go to bed at reasonable hours. However, her schedule and my schedule have clashed so much lately that she is going to bed while I am getting unchained from my desk.
We miss each other.
The nice thing about it though, and about pretty much all of my relationships with my friends, is that we all understand that we are ALL busy. Very busy. And if we don't talk for a week, a month, hell, a YEAR, we can pick up the phone and pick right back up where we started.
Pictures With Friends
*Whoa! Two posts in one day!*
OK - I was looking at my wedding pictures the other day (cause I do that. A Lot.) and realized that I don't have any updated pics of me and my girls! Agh! How can that be? Maybe because we're so darn busy. (See post above)
So here's a couple for you. Hope they don't mind! And for clarification, I am in white.
Me and the Girls
The reason I am so happy....
Monday, April 11, 2005
I love my job, but I can come home every night feeling one of those many emotions. There is so much on my plate, sometimes I feel - overwhelmed.
I came home tonight and finished off a bottle of
Two Buck Chuck by myself. See, the Hub is in Dallas, attending one of the many weeks of MIT2 training he has to attend. So besides the cell phone counseling, I have, well, a big empty bed.
Yesterday I had lunch with some friends. Then I went to a movie with one of those friends. She's a single mom and we are so alike, it's scary. I remember the point in my life when I was where she is at. The things I did, the attitude I had towards relationships, and life in general. I respect and admire her, because she IS where I WAS, not so long ago. I see her point of view and I can relate. And for that, I am grateful. She personifies a lot of the things that I see as admirable in a person, and for that, I love her.
And I have only known her for a short time.
She takes care of business. She handles her single motherhood with a responsible attitude. Yet, she still has a great time. She takes care of business.
I wish only the best for her. And she knows who she is.
Friday, April 01, 2005
But after that, we spend a large amount of time trying to reverse the process. I can clearly recall loving the fact that I was 24, but not so much on the 25. The age just sounds weird to me. Then 28 rocked. I loved it! In fact, I was 28 for about two years! Not on purpose, but I loved saying it so much, that I would forget I was 29. Then I turned 30, and well, I loved that!!
I never really had an issue with my age. Those of you who know me know that I don't look my age anyway, so no stress right?
I was in the Taco Bell drive through yesterday picking up a healthy and nutritious meal for the Boy. When I handed the "kid" at the window my money, he asked if I wanted hot sauce. I said "No thanks." He, apparently didn't hear me and asked "Excuse me ma'am?"
I am NOT a ma'am. I am a Mrs. I will even answer to Miss. But Ma'am?
Oh good night, are the laugh lines getting deeper? Are my smile lines getting wider? Wait - is that *gasp* Crow's Feet??
And so the process begins. They say your body starts to really change in your 30's. The Hub is getting ready to turn 30 (yes, go ahead and crack about the cradle robbing), and he is starting to experience the same ached and pains that he laughed at me about three years ago.
Karma is a bitch, isn't she?
So with that I say, bring on the ma'am, bring on the laugh lines. If I have those, then I know my life is fulfilled.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Today was a different story.
I have an online friend who had twins last year. Two beautiful babies, Ethan and Emma. As is the case with most twins, the babies were preemie and Ethan was born with health complications. Long story short, he passed away in October. Ethan became an angel.
Sara moved on and stayed strong and became a wonderful mother to little Emma. Emma thrived and fought and was loved by all around her.
Emma passed away last night from complications due to an infection. Her little body just couldn't handle it.
Emma was seven months old.
I cried this morning. I cried like I haven't cried in a long time. I have been crying all day. I cry for Ethan, and for Emma, and for Sara. I cry for any mother who has lost their child. I cried trying to tell my husband.
My faith tells me that God does not give us more than we can handle. I watched Sara take Ethan's death and turn it into a positive, loving energy towards Emma. What I cannot see for the life of me, is how she will possibly deal with the hurt, the anger, the feeling of overwhelming sorrow that is probably one hundred times what I am feeling.
If you believe, please pray for Sara.
And hug your children tight tonight.
Monday, March 28, 2005
We took the Boy to Disneyland this weekend. It was part of his birthday/Easter/Passover present. I like to tell myself that I do it to watch the joy on his face, but honestly, who am I kidding? There is nothing like a good old fashioned ride on the Matterhorn. Or splashing down into the world of the Pirates of the Carribbean!
So we get to the park at 7:30 a.m. and we stand in line waiting to get in. The gates opened promptly at 8:00. Our first stop was to get the Boy some pics and autographs, and that is precisely what we did. Four in a row. Like lightning. And we didn't have to wait for the best one of all, the King himself, Mr. M. Mouse. That's Mickey to you and me.
So we waited in lines and bumped into people, and generally had a really good time. With 98,000 other people. On Easter/Spring Break weekend.
What were we thinking?
Well, we weren't. But they don't call this the Happiest Place on Earth for nothing! So off we went. First stop: Buzz Lightyear, the Ride. And three minutes into it, it breaks down. Completely. Twenty minutes later, they let us off. Seriously folks, on the busiest day of the Spring, you can't get your newest ride to work? Oy! Give me the good old standby - I'm headed to the Matterhorn!
So we did that, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Autopia, Innoventions, Star Tours, Indiana Jones, and of course, Pirates of the Carribbean. Only no Johnny Depp, which I thought was a rip off. I mean, really, folks.
Innoventions was fun, as the boy got to be on a "Game Show" which basically turned into a giant Disney, Inc. commercial. They were plugging TiVo, and ABC, and of course, a lot of recent Disney movies, such as Miracle. Funny how that works.
We then went to Downtown Disney. We shopped, and ate at the Rainforest Cafe. And told the waitress it was the Boy's birthday so we could score him a free sundae, and embarass him with the loud clapping and yelling, of which I was a major contributor.
At about 6:30 p.m., we piled in the tram to head back to our $10 parking space to drive home. We made it up in an hour and fifteen, and made it home in an hour and a half. Not that the Boy would know, he was out before we put it in drive.
And so was his mommy.
Friday, March 25, 2005
11. I love hip-hop/dance music. My new fave stations on
XM Radio are
KissXM and BPM. **Side note - have you gotten XM yet? OMG! Get IT!. End side note**
12. I enjoy old school video games. Like Frogger, Pac Man, Ms. Pac Man and Tetris. You can keep Vice City and Devil May Cry, really.
13. I travel. A Lot. The Hub works for a major airline and well, we get some fantastic bene's.
14. I collect shot glasses from every city the Hub and I have visited TOGETHER. That's the rule, it has to be together.
15. To relax, I read, write, or scrapbook. I need to be creating to be relaxed, but creating under my own pressure, not under anyone else's.
16. There is nothing like a great cup of coffee in the morning, or a soothing cup of green tea before bedtime.
17. I will not take prescription drugs if I don't have to. I like natural remedies, and will often "work out" a migraine via aromatherapy (spearmint and eucalyptus do wonders). I believe most of our healing is mental anyway.
18. My favorite snacks are oranges.
19. My favorite color is blue.
20. The person I know that lives the farthest away is one of the greatest friends I have and she became one in a very short time. Love and miss you Amanda!
That's it for now. Stay tuned.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Fast forward to about a week and a half ago. I have been driving a 2002 Galactic Blue Jetta TDI (that's Turbo Diesel) for the last three years. I loved that Jetta. Sunroof, leather heated seats. And a bit of pep in it's step. I have to say I am a loyal VW customer. They make a good car. A tank. A rock.
Then I started noticing some new Jetta commercials. I heard rumors that they were changing the body style, not making them anymore, etc. I mosied on over to this website:
Sarah Jessica Parker would you get a load of THAT? Look at that sleek body style, that longer frame. What's this? Automatic RAIN SENSORS? Very cool. So I dropped it on The Hub. He likey. I likey. We wait for the release.
This was my life yesterday: We had server issues at work, I lost half my timesheet data for my hourly employees, and I am stressed to the max because payroll is this week. I got in at 7 and didn't leave (with no lunch) until 6. I called The Hub on the way home. Here's how the convo went:
Me: Hi Honey.
The Hub: Are you coming home today?
Me: Ha. Funny. Yes, I am on my way.
The Hub: Good, let's go look at the New Jetta's.
The Hub: What??
Me: I'm exhausted and not in the mood.
The Hub: OK
I get home. The Hub suggests we go get a bite to eat. I say ok. Then he drops it on me that we are going to run by the VW dealership on the way, to talk to Jamie. Jamie? You KNOW someone over there? He grins. You see, he's already talked to Jamie, and they are buds.
We get to the dealership. I sit in the New Jetta and fall in lust. Not fair. We test drive the New Jetta. I fall in love. So not fair. Then I see someone looking at MY JETTA. And then Jamie tells us that since they only have 2 left (yeah, 2! Of the 10 they ordered and had on Saturday!) that they are only selling ONE because they have to have something for other customers to look at. Why is it we always want something more when someone else wants it??
Make a not so long story shorter, I have said New Jetta sitting in my parking lot as we speak. It's grey. Oh - wait. It's Platinum Grey. And it's loaded. And I mean loaded. It's even got XM Sattelite Radio. Oh - and rain sensors.
And I didn't even have to lick the handle.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Here you go:
1. Extreme Makeover Home Edition makes me cry. Every. Damn. Time.
2. I adore horror movies. Slasher, psycho, psychological. Any type of horror/thriller movie turns my crank. Guess where I will be on Friday?
The Ring 2
3. I love my husband with a fierce, passionate and deep love. It is so deep that it hurts sometimes. Hurts. I hope everyone gets to experience that hurt sometime.
4. I love my son with an unconditional, protective, "I would take a bullet for you" love.
5. Though they sometimes drive me crazy, my mom and dad are integral parts of my world.
6. My sister was the biggest pain in my ass until we became adults. Then she was an even bigger pain. But I love her with a fierce love.
7. I love my job. It's stressful, and challenging, and there are days that I come home exhausted, but I feel fulfilled in my career for the first time in my life.
8. My dog is a spoiled rotten little Jewish man with fur. His mommy is Jewish, so, you know, the mother passes it on.
9. I love my God, and my Saviour. I won't get on a soap box here, but I have a deep-rooted faith in God that I can now look back and thank my father for. I ran from it when I was in my teens, and thankfully, my God is a forgiving one.
10. I love my friends with all of my heart. You know who you are.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Hub and I were sitting on the couch catching up on our DVR'd TV shows.
*Side note - DVR/TIVO is the best invention since, well, microwaves. I believe it, that settles it.*
So we get to Newlyweds, and I start the show. In this particular episode, Jess (yes, we're tight, I call her Jess) is off filming Dukes of Hazzard. So Nick decides to take some of his best guy friends to Cabo for a nice guys weekend. They rent a house only you and I could DREAM of living in, and they decide to have a guys night. They barbecue, and drink beer. And then they decide to shave mohawks in two of their friends' hair. The Hub is beside me laughing his ass off. Why? Because he can relate. So when they say what happens in Mexico, this is IT? No strippers, no dirty little secrets? Just a bunch of men, drinking beer and receiving mohawks? I am interested, so I pay a little closer attention.
The next day the boys decide to go Marlin fishing. Marlin fishing is to Cabo what gambling is to Vegas. (The Hub and I have been there a few times, so we know.) So they head out on the boat, beers and bagels, and proceed to try to fish. Problem is, there isn't really any good fishing, so they get bored quickly. For those of you with sons, does this sound familiar??
What do they decide to do? Go out to that little platform at the front of the boat, and see if they can get dunked. See, apparently, if you stand on the edge of this thing, eventually the momentum from the waves will dunk you pretty well. I had no idea of this, until the Hub told me what they were doing. He knew, right away. And let me tell you, he was laughing his ass off about it. I don't mean just chuckling. When the guy finally got soaked by the waves, Hub was in full-blown arrest. He whooped and hollered, and cheered the guy on! I think if Nick had invited my Hub to cabo, he would have been there right along with them.
Getting a mohawk, and getting dunked.
Proof positive that boys may age, but they never grow up. They are 12 forever.
Friday, March 11, 2005
I have made a decision. My child/future children will go to either a charter or private school if I have to strip to earn the money. I mean of course, strip and wax floors. And that sort of thing.
How did I come to such a remarkable decision? I had lunch today. At a sandwich shop that shall remain nameless *coughcoughBlimpiecoughcough*. I ordered what I always get - a hot Pastrami sandwich on Italian bread. Mayo, mustard, swiss cheese. Easy right?? Well, the sandwich part was anyway.
Then I get to the checkout. Said sandwich shop has a punch card system where you buy 7 subs and your 8th is free. Which isn't so bad a deal. So I get to the checkout and the boy behind the counter, who just made my sandwich, says "What did you have?" I look around slowly, as if not believing that he was asking me, and say "Hot Pastrami, on Italian, with cheese. And make it a combo, but upsize my drink." You would have thought I asked for his kidney. He looked at me, looked at the register, and looked back at me. I handed him my punch card, and proceeded to pull a $20 out of my purse. The total came to $6.89. As it always does. He looks at my punch card, which I still have one more punch before the freebie, and takes the cost of my sandwich off the total.
I realize at this point, that it's about to get hairy, so I say to him "No, I just wanted the punch for the sub, I don't get a free one yet." He looks at the punch card. He looks at me. I guess this time I asked for his liver. He then hits the total button, and the total is $2.20. OK, did I, or did I not just tell him that he shouldn't have taken the sub off? I said "Do you want to re-ring me, or add the sub back on?" He looks at the punch card, looks at me. "No," he says "It's alright."
So I hand him my $20 bill. Here's where it gets really fun. Note that the total on the register is now $2.20. He puts in $0.20, thinking he put in $20. So now the register says $2.00. Oh I bet you can tell where this is going. He then looks at me, looks at the $20, and says, and I am NOT making this up, "You owe $2."
I said, very calmly, because it is now that I realize he cannot help himself, "I gave you a $20, the bill was $2.20. You owe me $17.80. You typed in 20 cents instead of $20 and now that is why it says $2."
"Oh." He says.
And types in $20. Oh yeah, he sure does. So now he gives me back $18 change. Yup. Not only did I get a $2 meal from that sandwich store, but I got my drink upgraded, and I got some afternoon entertainment as well.
Private school or bust. If I have to live in a homeless shelter and sell chiclets in Tijuana. Private school.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
I have recently rediscovered the Mojito. The minty freshness and the sparkling soda make for a refreshing beverage. Make sure the next time you are out, you order one up. And sip it. And enjoy.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
There is a special bond between girlfriends that scientists have yet to decipher. Girlfriends can get together once a day, once a week, once a month, or even once a year, and pick up like they never were apart. Girlfriends will listen to you cry, listen to you bitch, and listen to you. Really listen to you. They understand the emotional ups and downs of monthly hormonal changes. They understand if you want to cry because the Hertz commercial was endearing. They understand the sanctity of Girls Night Out, and they understand when the damn dry cleaner shrinks your favorite pants once a month.
Since moving to San Diego, I haven't had a lot of girlfriend time. And as the saying goes, you don't know what you got til it's gone. So I had the fortunate opportunity to get together with some girlfriends this Sunday and laugh, and love, and have a good time. It is amazing the things that laughter does for your health. Don't believe me? Read THIS.
So I did a good thing for myself today. I had lunch with some girlfriends, and Wednesday I'll have dinner with another.
When is the last time you laughed?
Friday, February 25, 2005
Black Beach Cave
This is one of my favorite pictures. It was taken in Maui, in May. We had traveled the Road to Hana the whole day in a convertible Mustang with two of our best friends. We had stopped at this beach to see the black sand and have a picnic lunch. I need life to be that simple again.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
And California, well, it was just too damn expensive.
So he came home three months later and said "Honey, how about San Diego?" Now, to see my husband, is to love him, and he can have the cutest faces, and well, it's hard to say no to him. Really, really hard. So we put the house up for sale, packed up our game and headed out west, sucka, cause we wanted to be cowboys, baby. Oh wait, that was Kid Rock. Anyway...
So we moved to sunny San Diego. Well, call the mayor, alert the press, and hose down the neighbors, because I want my money back. It has rained here. A Lot. More than Seattle this year. That's right folks, we're beating Seattle in record rainfall this year. And it's only February 23. One year and one day to the date that we made this journey to the land of Sea World and sandy beaches. Tanned bodies and Trader Joe's.
People's houses are sliding down hills. I saw on the news last night a couple in Bel Air had their pool DETACH from the house and slide down the hill. It was actually kinda funny, for a second. Then I felt bad for them. After all, now what are Carlton and Hillary going to do for fun this summer?
But I digress. I am tired of the rain. And in my morning prayers in the shower this morning, I told God I felt enough was enough. This was, of course, after the power went out in my neighborhood, so I had to do my makeup in the dusk, had no hair dryer, and basically felt like crap because I had no coffee. But I said it anyway. And on the way to work, I saw it. Bright and big and plain as day. A rainbow in the sky. There it was in all of it's primary color glory. I hallelujah'ed and praised Jesus like a Baptist woman on Sunday. I even pulled over my car and took pictures with my camera phone.
And I told the Man Himself, I was holding Him to His Promise to not ever flood the earth again.
And all day long, it's been sunny skies. Welcome to San Diego.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Most of these friends (about 95% of them) turn 30 this year. Yes, they were all 1975 deliveries. And most of them have birthdays in the beginning of the year.
One of our friends who just turned 30 on Monday is celebrating with a blowout weekend in fabulous Las Vegas. Where else should a grown man mourn the passing of his twenties? What's that you say? Men don't mourn it? I beg to differ.
Case In Point: Everytime we get a phone call from one of the group regarding said "thirtieth" birthday, they are WHINING about it. Oh yeah, I said it. Whining about it.
Most of you know and some of you don't, but I celebrated my 30th THREE years ago. So yes, I am older than my husband. And I partied like a rock star. And to be truthful, I LIKE being 33. I like being in my thirties period. I didn't mourn the passing of my twenties. I like being the OLDER woman.
So long story short, we are headed to Vegas, baby, to party like rock stars for the weekend. And if I win a million dollars, I won't be back.
Oh alright - I'll write, but I won't be back to WORK.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Ah - End Of The Year, or Death By Numbers for those of us involved in this massacre of taxes and revenue, labor distribution reports and profit sharing contributions. EOTY is the time when all good accountants are tested to their max PSI. I figure mine is about 52. Or 53. Maybe 55, but not much more than that.
See, ever since we started this here EOTY process, I have become the absent-minded professor. I misplaced (lost) two of my W2's. I can't remember a damn thing my husband told me five seconds ago. And I feel like he isn't getting much of my attention. I thank God he is handling our personal finances right now, because I don't think I could cut it handling my work ones and my home ones. I feel like a circus juggler, with a hundred balls up in the air. The best part? Waking up at 2:37 a.m. freaking out because I need to do something at work and I don't want to forget.
Top that with our recent move (which we are done with, so you can all start answering your phones again when I call!), and it's a recipe for a stress bomb. Even now, I sit here trying to take a break and bust out a quick blog and I struggle to be funny. Cute even. As I always say, work is a rude interruption to the rest of my day.
The good news? LOST is on tonight. So I can relate. Although, I am not seeing an issue with being stuck on a tropical island with the likes of Sawyer and Jack. Charlie even. How about you?
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Enter San Diego, the mighty teacher of "You Cannot Afford Your Snobbiness 101". Little more is humbling as being schooled in the fine art of "Build A Bridge and Get Over Yourself 105" with a lab of "Living Within Your Means 210".
Yes, career-wise this was the best thing we could have done for my husband. It gave him a kick-ass raise, or so we thought at the time, and a great promotion, and left all kinds of opportunities to prove himself ready for advancement. He was simply being swallowed up in Phoenix, and moving here let him shine in the spotlight.
So what happened to that raise? You know, the "kick-ass" one? Let's see. Milk is like $4 a gallon unless you buy them in pairs. Apparently the State of California is trying to help out the dairy farmers (which I am all for). But I am lactose intolerant, and so my husband won't LET me drink masses of cow's milk, due to my *ahem* digestive issues with it. So I drink Soy Milk, he drinks the Moo Juice. And if we had two of those babies in the fridge, well, they would rot.
On top of that, we are paying about $2.35 a gallon for gas, and that includes my diesel for my VW, which by the way, they don't even sell here (the Diesel VW, not the diesel). My dad ranted to me once about how diesel was a by product of the processing of gasoline, so it should be free (he's a trucker) and I agree with him. But I digress. Moving on.
For the sake of argument, our insurance went down. Our housing expense went up, as far as rent is concerned, but our electricity bills went down (the most I paid ALL year was $91! I don't miss AZ because of THAT!!).
But overall, when the husband and I do go out to eat, it's easily $40. Just walking in the door. And that's if no beer or wine is purchased. And that, my friends, is hard not to do, considering we haven't attended "Order Water, It's Cheaper 307".
Monday, January 03, 2005
The back story to all of this is the fact that we were released from our lease early, due to the FIVE complaints I put in writing to our leasing company about the frat boys that live upstairs. They seem to wear shoes made of cement, and like to do dishes while jackhammering new ice sculptures. And that is while they are sober.
So five written complaints and three conferences with the manager later, we are being released from our lease with no repurcussions. It's a funny thing, that Landlord/Tenant Act. They sure don't like you to be familiar with it. Especially that small part about a Tenant's Right To Quiet Enjoyment of their space. Basically, because my complex put in writing that between the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. it is quiet time, any excessive noise made during these hours is grounds for violating my Right. They don't like the fact that I made my self familiar with it, but they really didn't have a choice. I happen to be smarter than the average bear, and I like to research stuff. Especially when I am up at 1:27 in the morning because the upstairs neighbor is in the middle of his Touret's Riverdance (translation: screaming profanities while jumping up and down on the floor).
That being said, we are now facing a ticking clock. We need to be out of our digs by January 31, and a lot of what is available right now, people want you IN right now. And since we have been looking, we have noticed really great ways that real estate people, and owners, like to "dress up" their dump.
If the ad says "Quaint One Bedroom Cottage", you can safely assume that it won't be much bigger, nor cleaner, than a McDonald's restroom. Likewise "Quiet, Comfy Condo" means a two bedroom apartment, built in the 30's, that was converted. Conversions are a BIG thing out here, but that's for another story. "Great for Pets" means the yard has about a square foot of grass in it. "Completely Remodeled" means "We threw in a new fridge".
I love old houses, don't get me wrong, but please, just call a spade a spade!
So for now, we continue on our search. Two professional married people, just trying to avoid a $2,600 mortgage payment.
Oh look - "Charming 2 Bedroom Flat, hardwood floors....."
So being the voracious reader that I am, and the closet writer, I decided to do my own. And I can only hope that you don't throw tomatoes!