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Month: March 2004

I got nada

I got nada

I got nothing for you good people tonight.

I am just one big stomach ache of nerves. I really need to smack the person who thought it was a good idea to put the house on the market this soon. (Oh wait, that was me. Nevermind.)

Tomorrow, after a “good night’s sleep” (I laugh at that, but hey, positve thinking, right?), I will be back to being me. There will be nothing left to scrub. (I hope.) Or organize. (Bite me.) Or declutter. (Just throw the crap away, already!)

Oh, and to that poor gentleman in the parking lot at Krogers who looked all worried when I stopped near your car and doubled over… Dude, I am so sorry if I scarred you for life by puking all over your general vicinity when all you did was show me kindness by asking if I was okay. Umm, if it helps, I felt much better afterwards.

Like I said…I am nothing but nerves.

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grumble grumble moan

grumble grumble moan

Seriously, I am just not genetically wired to be able to do this much cleaning and organizing. It just goes against all I stand for. (Or rather, sit down for.) I am tired, irritable and achey. But, I have been too busy to sit down and have any real meals in days, so I have lost a little over 3 lbs since last week.

I really miss sitting down to blog for as long as I want. I miss writing and reading them.

I miss arguing with the 2 yr old over whether we are watching Dora the Explorer or The View. (I usual win that one since she doesn’t know how to read yet and can’t work the remote. I am not above telling her it isn’t on if I am not in the mood to watch it. Quit looking at me like that. You’d do it too if you were forced into watching it all the damn time! Lately, though Dora is majorly winning.)

I miss crawling back into bed if I didn’t sleep well that night and then pretending I have been up for hours being super productive when the dear husband pops in for an early lunch.

Where oh where has my lazy self gone. I am not so sure I like this busy, active and productive person. She sort of scares me. But, I must push on. There is a house to pack and get ready to sell and no one has offered to come do it for me…yet. SO….here’s to working myself into an exhausted stupor everyday! In the words of Homer Simpson…

Woo Hoooo

homersofa.jpg

Can someone pass the coffee?

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Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Let me just save you people some distress later on down the road. Do not combine these two particularly bad habits on the same day: drinking an entire pot of coffee on the day you skip both breakfast and lunch. Oh sure, that initial buzz is quite a thrill and perhaps even somewhat productive when you have the ability to speed clean your entire house. And yes, it is fun to talk so fast that you can cause an auctioneer to lose track of the conversation. But really, it just isn’t worth it.

When you crash and burn (and trust me, you will crash and burn), it will be like being hit by a mack truck that knocks you over a bridge onto the train tracks below where the local locomotive is barrelling right at you. Yeah. You’ll be that tired. And that will hit you at about 4:00pm. Trust me, becoming that incoherant and comatose that early in the evening doesn’t do anyone any good. Well, except of course for the toddler who thinks it might be fun to color on your thigh with markers because you are too tired to do anything about it. Yes, she might enjoy it, but that is about all the fun that will be had that afternoon.

I’m there for you people. I put myself through things like this in order to spare you all the agony of figuring them out on your own. You are welcome. It’s all about you, my friends. All about you. (Okay, and the total obsession with coffee, but really, that is secondary. Honest.)

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Gettin’ my funk on

Gettin’ my funk on

Ways to make your son pray that genetics are not a strong driving force in his personality and own personal *funktitude:

Dance around the house (and I mean dance, baby) singing any one of these songs:

We Want the Funk
Get Down On It
Bad Girls

(Oh, right click and “Save target as…” to save my bandwidth…or Buddha will come kick your ass. Hey, it worked when he said it on his blog. I’m not above using him to get you to not suck up my bandwidth. Thanks, Buddha!)

*funktitude- the quality and/or ability to get your funk on; the attitude one possesses when actually getting their funk on (aka: dancing)

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Missing her

Missing her

There is something that I wanted to post before, but I hesitated. One reason is because he didn’t say anything, so I was waiting to let him if he wanted to. Secondly, I try to stay lighthearted here, and this is not light. I told you before that this time of year is very hard on me. For several reasons, but this one stands right up at the top.

So, if you are looking for humor, check out the archives. I’m not feeling funny right now.

Eight years ago, I lost someone I loved very much to suicide. She is someone I loved, respected and admired. We had just gotten to a point in our relationship where we were getting closer and I started to need her more. And she left me. I am talking about my mother-in-law. She was a woman who was larger than life in personality. When she spoke, you listened (whether you wanted to or not.)

How do I describe my relationship with her? Think Marie Barone from Everybody Loves Raymond…only more so. Yep. That is how we were. There are many memories that I look back on and actually smile about now (even though at the time I found nothing funny about them.) Now, I smile and miss her even more though at the time I thought I was going to completely come unglued and lose it.

My favorite story is from our wedding rehearsal dinner. Everyone was standing up toasting the bride and groom and sharing stories about us. So she stood up and said, “Before Clint met Jenn, he was dating a really sweet girl.” I waited for the rest. Nope. That was the complete thought. It is hard to explain how she meant that as noninsulting, but in her own way (I later came to realize) she was just saying that he chose sweet girls. It took me years to understand that one. Since then, I have always referred to that ex as “the sweet one”. And it makes us both smile, too.

And then of course we have the time that she was coming to visit us in our tiny apartment right after Kidlet Sr. was born. I scrubbed that place for days. You could eat off of the floor. It would totally pass the white glove test. Everything was neat and clean. So, I was pretty confident there would be nothing out of place to point out. However, within 5 minutes of being there, she opened the microwave, looked at me and said, “You know, that would work so much better if you kept it cleaner.” Argh! The microwave? Who would’ve thought that would be what she would zero in on? Now, I laugh about it and keep my microwave very clean. She’d be so proud.

So, why am I sharing stories that probably make her look bad? Because those stories are precious to me. Now, they make me smile. They make me remember the things that completely made me crazy then, but that I would give anything…anything to go through now.

I miss her.

At first, I was so angry at her I couldn’t see straight. I so badly wanted to hate her for what she did. (I couldn’t.) There are things that I heard and saw that weekend that still haunt me, but they have eased with time. I had nightmares and sunk into a deep depression for a while, too. I was in shock. If you asked me to name the very last person on the face of this earth who would take her own life, it would be her. She was the strongest woman I knew. If she wasn’t immune, no one was. That scared me. And it really made me angry.

There were too many years wasted with her when I felt she couldn’t accept or love me. The fact of the matter was, it was just who she was. She loved me. It took me too long to realize how much.

You see, she and I just found a great relationship. We had just come to a point where we could really talk. I knew I could talk to her when I needed motherly advice or a shoulder to cry on. I had finally gotten to the point that I always wanted to be with her. She was my friend. And she left me. I was pissed. When my mother-in-law chose to leave, I took all the anger and pain I felt towards my own mothers disease and then added the pain of my mother-in-laws suicide and knotted it all up towards my her. I couldn’t be mad at my own mom because it wasn’t her fault that her disease took the mom I had always known away from me and left me with someone I don’t know. She had no say in the situation. But, I could be mad at my mother-in-law. It was her choice. I have since forgiven her and am no longer angry. At least, not as angry. If I let myself think about it, I can get worked up about it again. But, for the most part, I just laugh when I think about some of my fondest of memories of her.

I hope and pray that somehow, someway she is watching over us and she can see her son and her grandbabies and know that maybe…just maybe, Clint did marry the sweet one afterall.

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Get Out! (Creeps!)

Get Out! (Creeps!)

When you have your house on the market, just knowing that strangers are going to be frollicking through the house everyday (one can hope), sure makes you see your things and your housekeeping in a different light. (What? Are you questioning my use of the word frollicking or questioning my housekeeping abilities? Frollicking sounds better than poking their nosey little selves around in every nook and cranny of my home. As for my housekeeping abilities, 10+ years with kids and I haven’t lost one in the chaos yet. So be nice!)

I love having friends over and entertaining. That is different. They are not going to go through my entire house opening closets and cabinets and looking in my private spaces. Well, some do, but that’s okay. I do it to them too. I mean, you gotta see who has what in their medicine cabinet. Don’t want to get too close to Ms. Foot Fungus without shoes. Don’t really want offer a game of one on one basketball to Mr. No Deoderant, now do we. Don’t worry. If I have been to your house, I haven’t done this to you. Just those other people. Oh shuddup. You probably did it at my house. Besides, if I invite you over, I know you. It’s okay if you see the medicine in my cabinet. You probably heard all about it before you ever looked. But strangers? *shudder* It just creeps me out.

A good friend thinks I should leave fun adult toys out on my nightstand…just to know that it will shock the realtor and people looking at the house. It would make me laugh just thinking about it everytime I know the house is being shown.

And in here is the master bedroom. It is spacious and open with a split level floor and….omigod, what is that? Is that what I think it is? No way! *stammer stumble* Ummm, ummm, let’s go back to the living room.”

What do you think? I mean come on, the shock on their face (or at least imagining their embarrassment) would transfer the creepy factor over to their side at least. And I am all for that.

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