Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Honey's Home!
It was so good to pick up Hub at the airport today. He was all smiles and so was I. I really have missed him so much, especially with the root canals and being alone with all that pain. Hub didnt bring much, just a small suitcase. We went out to eat and then came home. The birds went nuts. Our large Macaw Gypsy, made dramatic efforts to get close to Hub and when he got within touching distance, stretched out his long neck as far as it would go and shouted, "Hi HUB!" We were both taken aback! Never heard him say that before!
While we were out to eat, I asked Hub how he liked the temporary apartment. Thumbs down, was the response. Then I asked how the laundry was going for him and the corners of his mouth turned down in a suppressed smile.
"You are doing your laundry arent you?"
"Ummm, well, sorta."
"What do you mean, sorta?"
"Ummm..."
"Dont tell me. You havent done ANY laundry?"
"Ummm..."
"What are you doing for clean undies?"
By the look on his face, I already knew the answer. That man went out and bought new underwear instead of laundering his own!
"Well, I needed new everything so I just went and got it. I needed it anyway.... I suppose I should look into finding the laundry room. Uh, Yeah. Maybe that is what I will do when I get back. But I still have a week's worth of new stuff left!"
I informed hub that he had just written the newest blog entry, which made him cover his eyes with his hand.
"Fair enough, Tara. Fair enough."
While we were out to eat, I asked Hub how he liked the temporary apartment. Thumbs down, was the response. Then I asked how the laundry was going for him and the corners of his mouth turned down in a suppressed smile.
"You are doing your laundry arent you?"
"Ummm, well, sorta."
"What do you mean, sorta?"
"Ummm..."
"Dont tell me. You havent done ANY laundry?"
"Ummm..."
"What are you doing for clean undies?"
By the look on his face, I already knew the answer. That man went out and bought new underwear instead of laundering his own!
"Well, I needed new everything so I just went and got it. I needed it anyway.... I suppose I should look into finding the laundry room. Uh, Yeah. Maybe that is what I will do when I get back. But I still have a week's worth of new stuff left!"
I informed hub that he had just written the newest blog entry, which made him cover his eyes with his hand.
"Fair enough, Tara. Fair enough."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Cartoon Classics
I was nervous today. The man from the moving company was to come over and assess our load for the moving company. I was dreading this for a long time because I am over a week behind on purging this place. That's not to say I havent done any more; Lord knows its only tuesday and there are 13 bags of trash on the side of the house. But still. I was planning on having the basement at least 1/2 way to acceptable. G_G_G_GONG_G_G_G (remember the Gong Show?) With those root canals last week, I not only got Gonged, I got TKO'd. So, I was nervous.
The phone rang ten minutes before he was due, and it was him, telling me he was on his way. Now, judging from his vocal demeanor, he was a laid back guy. He had a timidly familiar voice...one that sent me reeling through the years trying to place it. I couldnt imagine what he looked like, but he was not as asshole on the phone. Anyway, I still had to put on brave-face to open the door. I paced until he arrived. He was a smallish guy, jowly with kinda bulgy eyes, bald on top and a ben-franklin physique, but that voice...? And then it hit me! Droopy Dog! The cartoon about the anthropomorphic dog with the huge jowls and the whiney lisp! And suddenly, my cloud lifted and I was trying to suppress my amusement.
He was so cool! He was Droopy personified! He tottered through the house, holding his little clipboard, looking at me over his nose-glasses and chatting in his self-content little way. We meandered through the rooms and I had to suppress a laugh as I saw his little feet pattering around, moving faster than they were propelling him. I felt like I was stuck in a Roger Rabbit screen test. Hee hee!! Droopy wandered about, peeking into closets and cupboards, asking about certain pieces, particularly the hand-knotted oriental rug and the crystal chandelier, which he said they definitely would not handle.
I still found myself apologizing for the disorganized heaps and sticking closet doors and then Droopy began to chuckle. He was a really cool guy. He told me that he had been in business since the sixties (So he would remember the Gong Show and Droopy Dog!) and he had seen it all. He told me that his company held the record for the most tonnage hauled out of the smallest house in the decade of the 70s. Apparently, a couple living in a 1200 sf house, had 44,000 lbs of crap that took three moving vans 7 days to haul. They wouldnt part with a thing and his company had to pack and move multiple 7-foot high stacks of newspapers, boxes and boxes of rags, bottles tin cans, and probably more than a few kitchen sinks. Can you imagine moving all that shit across the country? So away went my anxiety and back came my smile. Droopy just smiled back. He assured me that we required only one van, even with the motorcycles and the miata. How about that? ::::Big grin:::::
The phone rang ten minutes before he was due, and it was him, telling me he was on his way. Now, judging from his vocal demeanor, he was a laid back guy. He had a timidly familiar voice...one that sent me reeling through the years trying to place it. I couldnt imagine what he looked like, but he was not as asshole on the phone. Anyway, I still had to put on brave-face to open the door. I paced until he arrived. He was a smallish guy, jowly with kinda bulgy eyes, bald on top and a ben-franklin physique, but that voice...? And then it hit me! Droopy Dog! The cartoon about the anthropomorphic dog with the huge jowls and the whiney lisp! And suddenly, my cloud lifted and I was trying to suppress my amusement.
He was so cool! He was Droopy personified! He tottered through the house, holding his little clipboard, looking at me over his nose-glasses and chatting in his self-content little way. We meandered through the rooms and I had to suppress a laugh as I saw his little feet pattering around, moving faster than they were propelling him. I felt like I was stuck in a Roger Rabbit screen test. Hee hee!! Droopy wandered about, peeking into closets and cupboards, asking about certain pieces, particularly the hand-knotted oriental rug and the crystal chandelier, which he said they definitely would not handle.
I still found myself apologizing for the disorganized heaps and sticking closet doors and then Droopy began to chuckle. He was a really cool guy. He told me that he had been in business since the sixties (So he would remember the Gong Show and Droopy Dog!) and he had seen it all. He told me that his company held the record for the most tonnage hauled out of the smallest house in the decade of the 70s. Apparently, a couple living in a 1200 sf house, had 44,000 lbs of crap that took three moving vans 7 days to haul. They wouldnt part with a thing and his company had to pack and move multiple 7-foot high stacks of newspapers, boxes and boxes of rags, bottles tin cans, and probably more than a few kitchen sinks. Can you imagine moving all that shit across the country? So away went my anxiety and back came my smile. Droopy just smiled back. He assured me that we required only one van, even with the motorcycles and the miata. How about that? ::::Big grin:::::
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Bizarro World
How Instant Karma's Gonna Getcha
Merl Squirrel was having a good day. He was supposed to be out hunting for food, but in his meanderings and daydreaming, happened upon a lovely old home in a centurion oak forest. He sees that the house has open eaves and climbs in to have a look around. Holy bonanza batman! The eaves go directly into a knee-wall, which goes directly into a human clothes closet! Delighted, Merl rushes to the nutbar and tells all his buddies about his new "find." He buys his buddies a round with the few tidbits he has found so far, and hangs all afternoon, drinking up his tidbits. Before it was totally dark, Merl, having spent all his tidbits on Nut brown ale, begrudgingly goes hunting for food. He is clearly pissed that his wife had so many kids. They had agreed to not have kids this year. They worked all summer and had all their stores packed away. They were completely ready for winter when Shirley announced she was knocked up. Now its nothing but mid-winter hunting for tidbits, when, dammit, they agreed to not have kids. Merl finds two acorns and knows that if he brings them home, Shirley Squirrel will make him relinquish at least one to their many children (as Merl 'forgot' to use condoms last fall). So, instead of going home, selfishly, Merl eats one acorn on the spot and carries the other acorn into his new hideout. He finds his way into the closet. "Ahhh, perfect, he thinks, "None of my ravenous children will find me here. I can enjoy my acorn in a heated house by myself. Now where shall I sit to dine on my prize acorn?"
The floor is drafty and cold, so Merl climbs up on the clothes bar but find the footing too smooth and has a hard time balancing. So he jumps onto the shoe locker and sits beside a well-loved pair of loafers. Meanwhile, back at the nest, poor Shirley looks at the clock, wondering where that no good bastard is. At the same time she worries, because he said he would bring back food. There isnt a thing in the pantry. She wonders if he is OK or has met the same fate as several other of his drinking buddies, rrrROADKILLlll. "Perish the thought, Shirley reasons, "he's smart and he's giving and he would do anything for the kids. He will find food for us. He's just a little late." She hums and comforts the children, knowing Merl will be home soon.
On the foot locker, Merl looks around. "Nice place" he thinks. "Maybe I will move the whole family in. No--Oh NO what was I thinking!? This can be my secret digs away from the bitch and the brats. I could even have a few buddies over, maybe a few chicks, or that tasty little chipmonk number I had dance for me at the nutbar... and as Merl continues to fantasize that he is da-man, he throws his arms up like Zorba the Greek and does a little dance upon the foot locker. But oops! Merl drops the acorn and it rolls deep into the toe of the well-loved loafers.
"Oh no you dont!" cries Merl and dives in after it to retrieve his hard-won prize. And this is where Instant Karma gets poor Merl. You see, the "owner" of the shoes has never worn socks with them. Since "Owner" forbade Tara to get rid of the smelly, disgusting, broken-down loafers, Tara put them as far toward the attic as she could, in an old foot locker. Whatever "Owner's" unnatural attachment to the loafers was, Tara didnt argue, but simply did what she thought was best. Now when poor Merl went loafer diving, he didnt anticipate asphyxiation, but that, unfortunately, is exactly what happened. As Merl shot toward the toe, he felt the air being sucked out of his lungs as if he had entered a portal to outer space. Fight as he may, Merl was overcome in milliseconds, and died, head stuck in the toxic abyss of the loafer.
Shirley, now unmistakably pissed, bursts in on the nutbar, only to find Merl's plastered friends, passed out, but no Merl. She shakes Earl, Merl's drinking buddy awake and demands to know where Merl is. Earl mumbles something and throws a paw toward the oak forest. "That Sonofabitch, Shirley hisses. "I dont like to go there at night. Too many owls live there." Shirley steals the tidbits out of Earl's pouch. "He's too soused to remember," she reasons, and her children get fed.
Now, the next morning, when Merl still does not return, Shirley finds Earl, decidely hungover, and tells him to go find that lazy, whoring bastard and bring him home. Earl gathers the buddies and they head off to the secret hideout, fearing that Merl was probably with that pretty young chipmonk that gave him a lapdance. They wend their way in and find Merl, stiff and dead with his head stuck in a smelly old loafer. "Pull him out! shouts Percy. "NO! No dont!" shouts Earl and blocks their way. "Something killed that stupid shithead and he wasnt supposed to be here anyway. I say we gnaw his body off and leave it in the road. As soon as a car runs him over, we can take Shirley over and show her that Merl is dog fodder now." The boys all agree, gnaw off Merl's body and carry him away. No one ever returns to the scene of the crime.
The following spring, Tara has the eaves closed on the charming old home, as she thought she'd heard a sort-of tap-dance, emanating from the knee-wall. She never checked on the old loafers and had forgotten all about them. So had the "Owner".
All was well until Tara began cleaning out closets for the move to Arkansas. She found the still-disgusting old loafers, having not seen them for years, and tossed them into a garbage box. But wait, something rolled out of one of the shoes. Tara picks up the strange, bone-colored object and realizes that it is the entire skull of a squirrel. It is complete with long, dark yellow incisors, and neat rows of molars in the back. No other bones. No fur, no feet...oh yes, there was a solitary acorn in the same loafer.
Merl Squirrel was having a good day. He was supposed to be out hunting for food, but in his meanderings and daydreaming, happened upon a lovely old home in a centurion oak forest. He sees that the house has open eaves and climbs in to have a look around. Holy bonanza batman! The eaves go directly into a knee-wall, which goes directly into a human clothes closet! Delighted, Merl rushes to the nutbar and tells all his buddies about his new "find." He buys his buddies a round with the few tidbits he has found so far, and hangs all afternoon, drinking up his tidbits. Before it was totally dark, Merl, having spent all his tidbits on Nut brown ale, begrudgingly goes hunting for food. He is clearly pissed that his wife had so many kids. They had agreed to not have kids this year. They worked all summer and had all their stores packed away. They were completely ready for winter when Shirley announced she was knocked up. Now its nothing but mid-winter hunting for tidbits, when, dammit, they agreed to not have kids. Merl finds two acorns and knows that if he brings them home, Shirley Squirrel will make him relinquish at least one to their many children (as Merl 'forgot' to use condoms last fall). So, instead of going home, selfishly, Merl eats one acorn on the spot and carries the other acorn into his new hideout. He finds his way into the closet. "Ahhh, perfect, he thinks, "None of my ravenous children will find me here. I can enjoy my acorn in a heated house by myself. Now where shall I sit to dine on my prize acorn?"
The floor is drafty and cold, so Merl climbs up on the clothes bar but find the footing too smooth and has a hard time balancing. So he jumps onto the shoe locker and sits beside a well-loved pair of loafers. Meanwhile, back at the nest, poor Shirley looks at the clock, wondering where that no good bastard is. At the same time she worries, because he said he would bring back food. There isnt a thing in the pantry. She wonders if he is OK or has met the same fate as several other of his drinking buddies, rrrROADKILLlll. "Perish the thought, Shirley reasons, "he's smart and he's giving and he would do anything for the kids. He will find food for us. He's just a little late." She hums and comforts the children, knowing Merl will be home soon.
On the foot locker, Merl looks around. "Nice place" he thinks. "Maybe I will move the whole family in. No--Oh NO what was I thinking!? This can be my secret digs away from the bitch and the brats. I could even have a few buddies over, maybe a few chicks, or that tasty little chipmonk number I had dance for me at the nutbar... and as Merl continues to fantasize that he is da-man, he throws his arms up like Zorba the Greek and does a little dance upon the foot locker. But oops! Merl drops the acorn and it rolls deep into the toe of the well-loved loafers.
"Oh no you dont!" cries Merl and dives in after it to retrieve his hard-won prize. And this is where Instant Karma gets poor Merl. You see, the "owner" of the shoes has never worn socks with them. Since "Owner" forbade Tara to get rid of the smelly, disgusting, broken-down loafers, Tara put them as far toward the attic as she could, in an old foot locker. Whatever "Owner's" unnatural attachment to the loafers was, Tara didnt argue, but simply did what she thought was best. Now when poor Merl went loafer diving, he didnt anticipate asphyxiation, but that, unfortunately, is exactly what happened. As Merl shot toward the toe, he felt the air being sucked out of his lungs as if he had entered a portal to outer space. Fight as he may, Merl was overcome in milliseconds, and died, head stuck in the toxic abyss of the loafer.
Shirley, now unmistakably pissed, bursts in on the nutbar, only to find Merl's plastered friends, passed out, but no Merl. She shakes Earl, Merl's drinking buddy awake and demands to know where Merl is. Earl mumbles something and throws a paw toward the oak forest. "That Sonofabitch, Shirley hisses. "I dont like to go there at night. Too many owls live there." Shirley steals the tidbits out of Earl's pouch. "He's too soused to remember," she reasons, and her children get fed.
Now, the next morning, when Merl still does not return, Shirley finds Earl, decidely hungover, and tells him to go find that lazy, whoring bastard and bring him home. Earl gathers the buddies and they head off to the secret hideout, fearing that Merl was probably with that pretty young chipmonk that gave him a lapdance. They wend their way in and find Merl, stiff and dead with his head stuck in a smelly old loafer. "Pull him out! shouts Percy. "NO! No dont!" shouts Earl and blocks their way. "Something killed that stupid shithead and he wasnt supposed to be here anyway. I say we gnaw his body off and leave it in the road. As soon as a car runs him over, we can take Shirley over and show her that Merl is dog fodder now." The boys all agree, gnaw off Merl's body and carry him away. No one ever returns to the scene of the crime.
The following spring, Tara has the eaves closed on the charming old home, as she thought she'd heard a sort-of tap-dance, emanating from the knee-wall. She never checked on the old loafers and had forgotten all about them. So had the "Owner".
All was well until Tara began cleaning out closets for the move to Arkansas. She found the still-disgusting old loafers, having not seen them for years, and tossed them into a garbage box. But wait, something rolled out of one of the shoes. Tara picks up the strange, bone-colored object and realizes that it is the entire skull of a squirrel. It is complete with long, dark yellow incisors, and neat rows of molars in the back. No other bones. No fur, no feet...oh yes, there was a solitary acorn in the same loafer.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
INVENTORY 2
One food dehydrator
Two coffee makers
Three french hens...
I didnt do a thing for a solid week with these four root canals taking turns kicking my ass. But now I have that sorry ass in gear again and the inventory is as follows: 13 bags of clothes and household items to the church, 19 bags of garbage. I think this junk multiplied when we werent looking.
Two coffee makers
Three french hens...
I didnt do a thing for a solid week with these four root canals taking turns kicking my ass. But now I have that sorry ass in gear again and the inventory is as follows: 13 bags of clothes and household items to the church, 19 bags of garbage. I think this junk multiplied when we werent looking.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Clock is Ticking, ticking...
Ok back to the land of the living after four root canals. In my pharmacologically and dentally induced absence, the following things took place: The new house was inspected and had a few niggling details to fix, probably all in an afternoon. The moving company assessor is coming tuesday to take inventory of the contents which need to be moved. The birds have all decided that now is the time to act like assholes and have all gone hormonal on me. The moving van is coming on Mar 24th to load all of our belongings onto the semi. Move in day is whenever the van gets there after we close on Mar 26. My only worries over the move are the logistics of getting the birds there. Its going to be hard...some are being driven in my car, others are being flown...ugh. Chessie the greyhound will be fine. She is a great little traveler and good company besides. My dental bill is in excess of $2800 and growing, as I need two gold inlays now. Wow. So much to think about my brain hurts!
Oh and one other thing. My friend, with whom I spoke at length last night, posted this update on her facebook page: "How did I get on the sober end of a drunk dial last night?" (It musta been a funny phone call...)
Oh and one other thing. My friend, with whom I spoke at length last night, posted this update on her facebook page: "How did I get on the sober end of a drunk dial last night?" (It musta been a funny phone call...)
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Today is February 18th..
If you have been following this blog, you will know why I deleted that last four posts. The truth is, I have had four root canals in four days. My blog entries were totally narcotic-induced bappity bap about Canadian Club, Vicoden and pain. Hub says,"Get rid of that crap, a Tara. It's depressing as hell. I wanted to shoot myself after reading it."
There. Done. And to my many accolades, you may add *Saved husband's life by deleting depressing blog entrees.*
Tra-la-la! T'is not to worry! ::::::Skipping around the living room::::::
There. Done. And to my many accolades, you may add *Saved husband's life by deleting depressing blog entrees.*
Tra-la-la! T'is not to worry! ::::::Skipping around the living room::::::
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A series of rediculous screw-ups...
I had a trip planned months in advance, to go to Florida to meet some friends. In spite of circumstances that would dictate otherwise, Hub urged me to take the break and go have some fun with my Girls. Delta Airlines thought otherwise. They delayed my flight out of Detroit on friday morning because the crew "needed more sleep" and sent me to Cincinnati, knowing full well that I would have no connection to get to Florida. They couldnt even get me back to Detroit until the next day and offered me nothing as compensation. They said they could get me on a flight to florida SUNDAY but I was returning monday....IDIOTS! I was able to rent the last car that Dollar RentaCar had and I drove the 330 miles back home. It took me about 7 hours. Perhaps it was providence working again, as I woke up with a toothache to beat the band. I have been pacing all day with the entire left side of my jaw hot and red, and so painful I cant think straight. My dentist called me in an antibiotic and I am using ora-jel, and taking another Rx for pain, but nothing is helping. Its only saturday and I have to gut through this until monday, when I can get to my dentist.
Hub is enjoying 45 degree weather in AR, relaxing in his apartment and keeping tabs on how I am doing. It was 2 F when I left Cincinnati; its currently 28 F in Detroit. The house-buying details are moving slowly. I am waiting on Cowboy Jack to call me back about the home inspection... Apparently, all inspections are suspended for the weekend we NEED one because the state of Arkansas is requiring that all certified inspectors be present in Little Rock next Friday and Saturday. Leaving thursday and sunday for travel, that eats up four of the ten days we have to do this. We've already eaten the first four days trying to FIND an inspector. Not hearing from Jack is making me angry. He is being remiss and there is a possibility that this might kill the sale... Hello, Jack? Get on the stick, Buddy. There is a lot at stake here.
Hub is enjoying 45 degree weather in AR, relaxing in his apartment and keeping tabs on how I am doing. It was 2 F when I left Cincinnati; its currently 28 F in Detroit. The house-buying details are moving slowly. I am waiting on Cowboy Jack to call me back about the home inspection... Apparently, all inspections are suspended for the weekend we NEED one because the state of Arkansas is requiring that all certified inspectors be present in Little Rock next Friday and Saturday. Leaving thursday and sunday for travel, that eats up four of the ten days we have to do this. We've already eaten the first four days trying to FIND an inspector. Not hearing from Jack is making me angry. He is being remiss and there is a possibility that this might kill the sale... Hello, Jack? Get on the stick, Buddy. There is a lot at stake here.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Strange phone call...
Imagine my confusion this morning when I received a phone call from someone about 250 miles from Detroit, asking about my new home. He identified himself and seemed to know things about me that a stranger should not have known. I was pleasant but cautious as he asked if he and his wife could come visit us in ARIZONA! He went on to say that they were tired of the snow and wanted a warm gettaway and they could rent bikes in Phoenix... OK. Now its making sense. He is a member of our national riding group and thinks we are in Arizona.
You should have heard the disappointment in his voice when he learned that I am still in Detroit, we havent moved into our new home yet, and oh, by the way, its in Arkansas (AR), not Arizona (AZ). He chuckled and apologized, then told he that he too, used to live in the Ozarks in southern Missouri. He went on about the beautiful scenery and perfect roads, cautioned me about cattle haulers and no-shoulders, and told me to ride safe. Then he said something very strange. He said, "I'm sorry about this call." I told him I was glad he called and I look forward to meeting him someday; I wasnt sorry at all. He replied, "Oh no, its not you, its just that I left my heart in the Ozarks and now you've gone and made me all homesick. To me, it was the prettiest place in the world, and I was so happy there."
Well, I guess I wouldnt go that far. Its not the prettiest place in the world, but it ranks right up there with scenic places to live. I wonder what our new neighbors will think when we have a bunch of leather-clad pirates pull up on dozens of powerful bikes and have a BBQ. The Ozarks will never be the same!
You should have heard the disappointment in his voice when he learned that I am still in Detroit, we havent moved into our new home yet, and oh, by the way, its in Arkansas (AR), not Arizona (AZ). He chuckled and apologized, then told he that he too, used to live in the Ozarks in southern Missouri. He went on about the beautiful scenery and perfect roads, cautioned me about cattle haulers and no-shoulders, and told me to ride safe. Then he said something very strange. He said, "I'm sorry about this call." I told him I was glad he called and I look forward to meeting him someday; I wasnt sorry at all. He replied, "Oh no, its not you, its just that I left my heart in the Ozarks and now you've gone and made me all homesick. To me, it was the prettiest place in the world, and I was so happy there."
Well, I guess I wouldnt go that far. Its not the prettiest place in the world, but it ranks right up there with scenic places to live. I wonder what our new neighbors will think when we have a bunch of leather-clad pirates pull up on dozens of powerful bikes and have a BBQ. The Ozarks will never be the same!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
We got the house!
Hub and I placed a bid for the house and the seller countered, but only slightly. It didnt even make a dent in our plans. The seller did throw in the fridge, so that is one less thing I have to think about. Yay. Of course, it snowed about 8" last night here in Detroit, and I had to wait until the drive was cleared to get my car out. Then I had to go to Kinkos to print the documents, sign them and fax them back to Cowboy Jack. Oh and speaking of Cowboy Jack, he is just tickled pink over all of this. Of all the houses we looked at, Crazy Horse was the house he liked best anyway. He pointed out many of the details as we wandered through it, commented on the craftsmanship and also the heating and cooling system. He said it was top notch -- not typical for a standard builder's system. Well, I hope so. The house has two furnaces and two air conditioners and it better work; its less than 3 years old! Cowboy Jack has other reasons to be happy about this sale. His company has the listing agent for this home too, so all of that tasty commission goes right to them! (Jack did not limit the available homes to the ones that they were representing. We saw a number of homes that were for sale by other companies.)
Financing the beast and home inspection is next on the hit list. Then...a tentative closing date at the end of March. Could it be that I may be in my new home by my birthday? What more could I ask?
.
.
.
A HUGE PARTAY! YEAH!!!!!
.
Financing the beast and home inspection is next on the hit list. Then...a tentative closing date at the end of March. Could it be that I may be in my new home by my birthday? What more could I ask?
.
.
.
A HUGE PARTAY! YEAH!!!!!
.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I hired a painter to help spruce up the place a bit. I bought paint and had the guy in to paint the hall. As the painter was busily working, I was at my puter. The following dialogue took place:
Painter: Yes, Ma'am?
Me: (pulling my earbuds out and Snapping out of my cyber haze) Dah.. Huh? What? Is there something you need?
Painter: Ma'am, you called me.
Me: (shaking my head) I didnt.
Painter: (looking bewildered) I could have sworn I heard you say, "Stop. Come Here Please." My bad. (painter shrugs and returns to the hallway).
*~*~*
Painter: Um, Ma'am? Did you say something?
Me: ( totally startled again) Me? No, I didnt say anything.
Painter: Is there anyone else in the house Ma'am? Cuz I thought you said, "Hey! Stop! Come here! What are you doing?"
Noise from Back room: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Good Boyyyy!
Painter: There! Who said that?
Noise from back room: NOOOOO! NOOOO! HEY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
By this time, the painter was as white as a sheet and it dawned on me that he was hearing the parrots. I tried to keep a straight face, and then I lost it and burst out with this wheezing, partially stifled guffaw that made my eyes and nose run. Then I broke wind with aplomb and completely lost it. All the while I was gasping and trying to explain that he was hearing parrots! It was no good. I got up, still unable to speak coherently, and beckoned him to come, and showed him the birds in the back room. With realization seeping in, relief spread across his face. Then he, too, laughed a little, shaking his head. That poor guy. I'm sure this is one for the boys at the bar tonight. Wish I could hear how he spins it.
Painter: Yes, Ma'am?
Me: (pulling my earbuds out and Snapping out of my cyber haze) Dah.. Huh? What? Is there something you need?
Painter: Ma'am, you called me.
Me: (shaking my head) I didnt.
Painter: (looking bewildered) I could have sworn I heard you say, "Stop. Come Here Please." My bad. (painter shrugs and returns to the hallway).
*~*~*
Painter: Um, Ma'am? Did you say something?
Me: ( totally startled again) Me? No, I didnt say anything.
Painter: Is there anyone else in the house Ma'am? Cuz I thought you said, "Hey! Stop! Come here! What are you doing?"
Noise from Back room: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Good Boyyyy!
Painter: There! Who said that?
Noise from back room: NOOOOO! NOOOO! HEY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
By this time, the painter was as white as a sheet and it dawned on me that he was hearing the parrots. I tried to keep a straight face, and then I lost it and burst out with this wheezing, partially stifled guffaw that made my eyes and nose run. Then I broke wind with aplomb and completely lost it. All the while I was gasping and trying to explain that he was hearing parrots! It was no good. I got up, still unable to speak coherently, and beckoned him to come, and showed him the birds in the back room. With realization seeping in, relief spread across his face. Then he, too, laughed a little, shaking his head. That poor guy. I'm sure this is one for the boys at the bar tonight. Wish I could hear how he spins it.
INVENTORY
One sore back
Two itchy eyeballs
Three French Hens...
Clearing out the junk in this house is going to be a trip! It already is! I have only been working 4 hours and I have 14 bags of garbage and 3 bags of clothes/purses/ household items for the church.
Oh stop it. You stop thinking that. I have been here seventeen years now and more stuff has come in than gone out. Obviously. But its going out now---all of it. One way or another. I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can....Chuggah chuggah WOOO WOOO!
Two itchy eyeballs
Three French Hens...
Clearing out the junk in this house is going to be a trip! It already is! I have only been working 4 hours and I have 14 bags of garbage and 3 bags of clothes/purses/ household items for the church.
Oh stop it. You stop thinking that. I have been here seventeen years now and more stuff has come in than gone out. Obviously. But its going out now---all of it. One way or another. I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can- I think I can....Chuggah chuggah WOOO WOOO!
Frightening...
These appraisers all look like celebrities. First we had Steve Lawrence and the Undertaker, now we have the Newscaster and Lilian Munster. Except Lilian Munster was scared of my house and let the newscaster wander from room to room as she stood, bug-eyed in one spot. She asked if I was alone here; Yes. Is my husband around; no. Do I have friends in the area that can help; not really. Do I have to do this alone; probably. She grew paler and paler with each of my answers until I insisted that she take a seat. She refused to move from her spot. I thought someone superglued her shoes to the floor. So I stood next to her instead of guiding the newscaster around. I knew where he was by floor squeaks and *other* telltale noises.
Squeaker squeaker ---upstairs hallway.
human groan, pop!--- he got the upstairs bathroom door open. Good man.
Eee Eee Eee Eee ---coming back down the stairs.
SCREAM! SQUAWK SQUAWK, ERIC~WHAT, BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP, HONK HONK, WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO, STOP, HELLO BIRD, PRETTY BIRD, BAP-BAP-BAP!! ---Ah yes, the bird room. Sorry Dude, but Lilian Munster's got the vapors and I couldnt warn you.
CaCHUNK ---got the basement door open...and wait for it, 3--2--1---"whoa." Yep, he saw the basement.
He found his way back to the living room. I didnt see his face, but Lilian Munster did (she was holding her breath and I finally heard her exhale). He silently pointed toward the door, they made a hasty retreat as Lilian was stuttering something about a report. On the porch she turned to me and said, "I hope you can find some help. You really have your work cut out for you."
Thanks Lilian. I need your encouragement and positive attitude. Here, let me give you some clorox wipes to sanitize the bottoms of your shoes. Oh and perhaps you should take your clothes off outside before going back into your own house. You may have cockroaches and bedbugs clinging to your clothes. Come to think of it, stop by the drugstore on your way home for some Quell to delouse yourself. Psycho Bitch.
Squeaker squeaker ---upstairs hallway.
human groan, pop!--- he got the upstairs bathroom door open. Good man.
Eee Eee Eee Eee ---coming back down the stairs.
SCREAM! SQUAWK SQUAWK, ERIC~WHAT, BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP, HONK HONK, WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO, STOP, HELLO BIRD, PRETTY BIRD, BAP-BAP-BAP!! ---Ah yes, the bird room. Sorry Dude, but Lilian Munster's got the vapors and I couldnt warn you.
CaCHUNK ---got the basement door open...and wait for it, 3--2--1---"whoa." Yep, he saw the basement.
He found his way back to the living room. I didnt see his face, but Lilian Munster did (she was holding her breath and I finally heard her exhale). He silently pointed toward the door, they made a hasty retreat as Lilian was stuttering something about a report. On the porch she turned to me and said, "I hope you can find some help. You really have your work cut out for you."
Thanks Lilian. I need your encouragement and positive attitude. Here, let me give you some clorox wipes to sanitize the bottoms of your shoes. Oh and perhaps you should take your clothes off outside before going back into your own house. You may have cockroaches and bedbugs clinging to your clothes. Come to think of it, stop by the drugstore on your way home for some Quell to delouse yourself. Psycho Bitch.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I wax philosophical....
Its Superbowl Sinday (sic) and I went over to Candy's with that chocolate cake, and the pita chips, hummus, Groudhog Day and Sleepless in Seattle. She added fresh fruit, red zinfandel and various crackers and dips. Neither of us had eaten all day, so that is what we proceeded to do. Eat and watch Groundhog Day. And eat. And did I mention we noshed? Then we snacked. Then we finished the food orgy with a thick slice of that chocolate cake (which tasted so good that it had to be very, very bad). I gulped the remains of my wineglass and gathered my stuff after the movie was over. I was clearly dazed and in a chocolate-induced hallucination all the way home. I fed the animals and let the dog out, then thought I would just *lay down for a second* on my bed. I woke from a vivid dream about 40 minutes later. Great. There goes my night. But I didnt care because the dream was marvelous...
In the dream I was a passenger in a van, down in The Inner City. Streets I knew. Dirty streets. Mean streets. I didnt feel lost or panicky in the dream. There was a familiar corner gas station where everyone in the hood hangs out. I got out of the van and began walking toward the gas station, the only white woman in eyesight. But still I felt totally at ease. Like we all knew each other and had immunity to anything bad happening. Then it began to rain. No one seemed to notice. And it didnt stop til the streets ran like rivers and all the folks stopped everything they were doing, and splashed and played in the (now) hip-high water. Happy children yelled and tried to run faster than the kid next to him, fat black ladies waddled and exclaimed "Oh Lord," hurrying, wading to find higher ground but giggling, and young guys stripped off their shirts, replaced their scowls with toothy broad smiles, and strutted through the waves, heads held high--no anger in their eyes. The water was warm, moving, and murky, but no one seemed to care. Someone passed me a foreign-looking slice of fruit and I bit into it. It was sweet and slick, like the flesh of a ripe peach.
.
.
.
I woke up and marveled at the beauty and detail in that dream. Detroit, as I have never known it, but how I always wished it could be. A long time ago in college, an intelligent, but haughty girl called me a 'visionary' after hearing my presentation. She meant it as an insult. I took it as a compliment. I dont pretend to understand dreams and I dont give them much credence. I'm not one for magical thinking but I like to believe that dreams are trying to tell us something. The lack of fear mirrors my determination to conquer this move with a bold attitude; fear is a choice. The moving water, warm but murky seemed to represent cleansing by force--- I must de-clutter this house, de-clutter my life and break a few ties to this place. Something clean and new lies underneath but I cant see it just yet. I dont recognize the fruit, but I am willing to take a bite. And I think Arkansas is going to be sweet.
In the dream I was a passenger in a van, down in The Inner City. Streets I knew. Dirty streets. Mean streets. I didnt feel lost or panicky in the dream. There was a familiar corner gas station where everyone in the hood hangs out. I got out of the van and began walking toward the gas station, the only white woman in eyesight. But still I felt totally at ease. Like we all knew each other and had immunity to anything bad happening. Then it began to rain. No one seemed to notice. And it didnt stop til the streets ran like rivers and all the folks stopped everything they were doing, and splashed and played in the (now) hip-high water. Happy children yelled and tried to run faster than the kid next to him, fat black ladies waddled and exclaimed "Oh Lord," hurrying, wading to find higher ground but giggling, and young guys stripped off their shirts, replaced their scowls with toothy broad smiles, and strutted through the waves, heads held high--no anger in their eyes. The water was warm, moving, and murky, but no one seemed to care. Someone passed me a foreign-looking slice of fruit and I bit into it. It was sweet and slick, like the flesh of a ripe peach.
.
.
.
I woke up and marveled at the beauty and detail in that dream. Detroit, as I have never known it, but how I always wished it could be. A long time ago in college, an intelligent, but haughty girl called me a 'visionary' after hearing my presentation. She meant it as an insult. I took it as a compliment. I dont pretend to understand dreams and I dont give them much credence. I'm not one for magical thinking but I like to believe that dreams are trying to tell us something. The lack of fear mirrors my determination to conquer this move with a bold attitude; fear is a choice. The moving water, warm but murky seemed to represent cleansing by force--- I must de-clutter this house, de-clutter my life and break a few ties to this place. Something clean and new lies underneath but I cant see it just yet. I dont recognize the fruit, but I am willing to take a bite. And I think Arkansas is going to be sweet.
He made it to Decatur last night...
and has cruised into Missouri already. Hub sent me a pic of the flat, pasturelands of southern Illinois and then the great arch at St Louis. He should be at the Comfort Suites Bentonville by early evening. *sigh*
Today is superbowl sunday I am going over to my girlfriend Candy's house to watch chickflicks. I bought hummus and pita chips for a healthy snack, and then one of those decadent All-American Chocolate Cakes from Costco, as both of our men are traveling without us as I write. We can have some wine, cry over a sappy movie and eat cake. Sounds like the best we can make of our respective circumstances.
Today is superbowl sunday I am going over to my girlfriend Candy's house to watch chickflicks. I bought hummus and pita chips for a healthy snack, and then one of those decadent All-American Chocolate Cakes from Costco, as both of our men are traveling without us as I write. We can have some wine, cry over a sappy movie and eat cake. Sounds like the best we can make of our respective circumstances.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Well, He's off...
I helped Hub pack this morning and yes, we used suitcases and plastic bins, but he still put his gym clothes and some incidentals directly in the back of the car. We hugged for a long time. I have arranged temporary (corporate) housing for him and a two-night stay at Comfort Suites so he can start work on time Monday morning. Then when he is finished with work on tuesday, he can move into his 1-bedroom corporate apartment.
The house feels strangely empty, and I know it's a purely psychological phenomenon, as I have stayed alone for weeks on end when he has been traveling. I guess the difference is that I know he is not really traveling, but instead moving, and it makes me feel a slow, creepy-crawly wiggle in my stomach. I am going to go get boxes, as I know he will be calling me shortly to send stuff to him that he forgot or didnt think about. Right away, I know he will be making a trip for dress socks. I didnt remember to pack any for him, and I doubt he remembered either. But at least what I packed is in BINS and not floating around the back of the car. I hope he calls often.
The house feels strangely empty, and I know it's a purely psychological phenomenon, as I have stayed alone for weeks on end when he has been traveling. I guess the difference is that I know he is not really traveling, but instead moving, and it makes me feel a slow, creepy-crawly wiggle in my stomach. I am going to go get boxes, as I know he will be calling me shortly to send stuff to him that he forgot or didnt think about. Right away, I know he will be making a trip for dress socks. I didnt remember to pack any for him, and I doubt he remembered either. But at least what I packed is in BINS and not floating around the back of the car. I hope he calls often.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Logistics Lesson One. Monitor Everything Hub Does.
Here I sit at my computer trying to compose another blog entry and basically blanking. Just like an answer to prayer, I looked at the clock. It's 9:45pm and Hub is supposed to be driving back to AR tomorrow. It occurs to me that he hasnt done much of anything today. I typed this conversation as soon as it was over:
Me: Hey, arent you supposed to be packing or something?
Hub: Yeah but that is nothin'. Im just throwing a few things in the car and going. No biggie.
Me: Wait. What do you mean? You mean you are packing your clothes and moving a majority of them to your temporary housing now, right?
Hub: Yeah. You know. Couple of suits, couple of sweaters, turtlenecks, few socks and underwear, like that.
Me: In a suitcase.
Hub: I wasnt planning on it.
Me: In a plastic bin?
Hub: No. I was just going to throw the shit in the car and drive. There's supposed to be a washer and dryer there in my unit. I will just put the soap in...and...um....push whatever button I am supposed to push.....and well, you know.
Me: Wha...? Dah... HUH???? Throw the shit in the car? No nothing? Clothes laying in the back of the car? Not in bags, not in bins, not in milk-crates? Just in the back of the car? You're shittin' me, right? (but somehow I am doubting this.)
Hub: No. I'm not shitting you. I moved that way before. It just means a few extra steps carrying stuff in and washing whatever I drop en route from the parking lot. No biggie, Tara.
Me: But if you pack it.....Oh man. I see I have to help you with this. Please let me pack your things. I swear you will thank me for doing it my way as opposed to yours. ( I was bracing myself for a fight on this. )
Hub: No. Really. I. Don't. Need. Help. I'll put my razor in a bag if it will make you feel any better.
Me: (panicking now) Honey, you need to let me help you with this. (I am having vivid images of corporate spies watching him tote piles of clothing from the back of his car to his quarters. The report to his boss would be something like this):
Subject appeared to be carrying underclothing from the back of his car into facility when he tripped over some shorts that he dropped and fell forward. Subject retrieved scattered undergarments from parking lot and proceeded to his quarters, uttering unintelligible noises.
Off the record, Mr. Mann, my recommendation is to re-verify that subject has a college degree.
OK. I see I have to protect this man from himself. I will be up early, stuffing plastic bins with organized piles of laundered clothing. I wish I could teleport to the other end to prevent him from living out of those bins. Or...should I.....
Nope. Cant let him muddle through this one. Not with those corporate spies out there. This illustrates of course, that Hub has cleverly tapped into my paranoia as a means to get me to do a lot of his work. Yep. I do believe he is that clever.
Me: Hey, arent you supposed to be packing or something?
Hub: Yeah but that is nothin'. Im just throwing a few things in the car and going. No biggie.
Me: Wait. What do you mean? You mean you are packing your clothes and moving a majority of them to your temporary housing now, right?
Hub: Yeah. You know. Couple of suits, couple of sweaters, turtlenecks, few socks and underwear, like that.
Me: In a suitcase.
Hub: I wasnt planning on it.
Me: In a plastic bin?
Hub: No. I was just going to throw the shit in the car and drive. There's supposed to be a washer and dryer there in my unit. I will just put the soap in...and...um....push whatever button I am supposed to push.....and well, you know.
Me: Wha...? Dah... HUH???? Throw the shit in the car? No nothing? Clothes laying in the back of the car? Not in bags, not in bins, not in milk-crates? Just in the back of the car? You're shittin' me, right? (but somehow I am doubting this.)
Hub: No. I'm not shitting you. I moved that way before. It just means a few extra steps carrying stuff in and washing whatever I drop en route from the parking lot. No biggie, Tara.
Me: But if you pack it.....Oh man. I see I have to help you with this. Please let me pack your things. I swear you will thank me for doing it my way as opposed to yours. ( I was bracing myself for a fight on this. )
Hub: No. Really. I. Don't. Need. Help. I'll put my razor in a bag if it will make you feel any better.
Me: (panicking now) Honey, you need to let me help you with this. (I am having vivid images of corporate spies watching him tote piles of clothing from the back of his car to his quarters. The report to his boss would be something like this):
Subject appeared to be carrying underclothing from the back of his car into facility when he tripped over some shorts that he dropped and fell forward. Subject retrieved scattered undergarments from parking lot and proceeded to his quarters, uttering unintelligible noises.
Off the record, Mr. Mann, my recommendation is to re-verify that subject has a college degree.
OK. I see I have to protect this man from himself. I will be up early, stuffing plastic bins with organized piles of laundered clothing. I wish I could teleport to the other end to prevent him from living out of those bins. Or...should I.....
Nope. Cant let him muddle through this one. Not with those corporate spies out there. This illustrates of course, that Hub has cleverly tapped into my paranoia as a means to get me to do a lot of his work. Yep. I do believe he is that clever.
The Yankee Who Keeps Me Grounded....
Well thank goodness for Dina. Dina is a yankee through and through. A lifelong resident of an eastern seaboard state, Dina shoots from the hip and blows through my bullshit like an IED. SHe called me this morning at 8:10 am. She doesnt think I need to sleep in. I began telling her about the appraisers:
Yesterday, some appraisers came by to assess the value of our home here in Detroit. The honest value has dropped about $80K in the last two years as Detroit's economy has been swirling the drain. I was embarrassed at the disorganized, disheveled and downright cluttered junk that was everywhere, watching the appraisers step over piles and pick their way through the mine fields. One guy was a strong-jawed Steve Lawrence-type personality, the other, an undertaker. He creeped me out in his black trench coat, his lackluster, beady eyes taking it all in and wordlessly conveying that this was a disaster in the making. I was telling Dina all about the Undertaker, then switched gears and began filling her in on the details of our potential new house and all the unbelievable amenities that this house had to offer. I gave her a description of the floor plan, the to-die-for gourmet kitchen with pantry, the stained-glass transoms and the solid white oak interior doors. She listened in her way, to me extolling the fact that the house had five bathrooms, but that the master bath had a separate water closet, so I could take a dump while Hub was in the shower. Dina took aim and fired: "Well isnt that just like you, you greedy beeyoch. Five bathrooms in the house and you have to stink up the one that your husband is using." I felt myself thud back to earth. Yep, that's my Dina.
Yesterday, some appraisers came by to assess the value of our home here in Detroit. The honest value has dropped about $80K in the last two years as Detroit's economy has been swirling the drain. I was embarrassed at the disorganized, disheveled and downright cluttered junk that was everywhere, watching the appraisers step over piles and pick their way through the mine fields. One guy was a strong-jawed Steve Lawrence-type personality, the other, an undertaker. He creeped me out in his black trench coat, his lackluster, beady eyes taking it all in and wordlessly conveying that this was a disaster in the making. I was telling Dina all about the Undertaker, then switched gears and began filling her in on the details of our potential new house and all the unbelievable amenities that this house had to offer. I gave her a description of the floor plan, the to-die-for gourmet kitchen with pantry, the stained-glass transoms and the solid white oak interior doors. She listened in her way, to me extolling the fact that the house had five bathrooms, but that the master bath had a separate water closet, so I could take a dump while Hub was in the shower. Dina took aim and fired: "Well isnt that just like you, you greedy beeyoch. Five bathrooms in the house and you have to stink up the one that your husband is using." I felt myself thud back to earth. Yep, that's my Dina.
Farewell From the Freedom Cruisers...
Our dear friends, the Freedom Cruisers Riding Club Chapter 20, (FCRC) threw us a lovely farewell party at Logans Steakhouse. We were presented with an incredible collage of memorabilia, framed and ready to hang in our new office. It was a stunning momento and I could begin to feel panicky inside...the precursor to the deluge? Each member hugged us and had such kind words of encouragement, I was nearly losing it until my hero, "Loudy" showed up and wrapped me into her bear-like hug, popping my eyes and squeezing me 'til I squeaked. Then she shoved me back to give me the dead-on gaze of hers (and she has beautiful eyes that take you prisoner) and told me how happy she was for us, and how we would always be family. I felt the hurt rising inside of me and I said, "Please, dont make me cry." Turning on a dime, she had me busting out laughing in ten seconds. I wish someone could harness all the talent in that woman. She'd be a bobillionaire. I will miss every fiber in her, and her sister, "Scissors" who made the collage for us.
Then came the roasting, and lemme tell ya, they were merciless. "Crew-Cut" had the group laughing about how we'd all met long ago on Harsen's Island. Hub and I had just purchased our bikes and had ridden out to the Island , stopping to admire the bay. While we were standing there, a group of leather-clad bikers rode up and stopped behind us. Hub figured we were about to be jumped, but I put on my best Howdy-Doody smile and went to greet them. Soon we were all yapping and Hub and I were invited to join the group. Afterward, they were trying to assist us in finding our way back to the ferry, but being unfamiliar with standard hand-signals for riding in groups, Hub and I turned off, when all they were doing was pointing to a road hazard to the right. We didnt know if we had been ditched or ? so we stopped for ice cream and found our own way back to the ferry. That same week, I showed up alone at the meet-n-greet dinner and was treated like I was already family. That was nearly three years ago and we have enjoyed the best family that friends can possibly conjure. Crew-Cut then announced that I am forming my own chapter of the FCRC, which is the Bentonville Arkansas chapter 52, and I am the new president, which drew a round of applause as I took a deep bow. Of course along with the good, comes the bad and I had to give up my officers position with Chapter 20. I congratulated the new Safety Officer, Roosky Bear, and said I would call him during the week to get him up to speed. Roosky Bear smiled, in his quiet, warm way and said he looked forward to it. He was the very last to leave.
Then the roasting began, full force. Comments were made on how we were going to the land where family trees are actually wreaths, where the difference between rednecks and hillbillies are two: Rednecks wear shoes and are rednecks by choice. Poor Hillbillies. That soon we would be saying, "y'all" and "purteneer" (pretty near), and having to make judgment calls that pertain to "If I divorce my wife, is she still my sister?" It was almost non-stop. I couldnt sit down. I knew to order small, so my dinner consisted of a side-salad and sweet potato, and of course, Newcastle Brown Ale. I choked down about half of the food and gave up. It was hard to stand and eat, and I found sitting unbearable. So I wandered about, beer in hand, hugging and slapping leather vests, laughing, joking and taking a good ribbing. I sat for a few moments with "'Bacco", one of the younger members of the group with whom I'd formed a closer friendship. He had no mush, no well-wishes, no questions. He lisped with his pierced tongue, about every day things while his big gray eyes took a walk all over my face. My throat began to hurt and I knew if I sat much longer with him, I'd be face-planting into his smoky teeshirt, balling my eyes out and begging for mercy. Loudy, assessing the situation, redirected me away from 'Bacco and soon had me wheezing with laughter again. Lawd I am gonna miss these folks. Crusty, surviving renal cancer and a bike crash last year, Cardy and Li'l Bit with their new babies, and big ol' Cookie, who sent me a hug via his mom, Back-Talk, the prettiest and sweetest woman in the group.
We'd brought Jimmy Henry with us, and as we got back home, Jimmy came in the house. He plopped down on the sofa and I knew I had to boot his butt outta here. "Jimmy, I said, "you have to go. Its 9:45 and I want to go to bed." He slowly made his way to the door, taking way too much time with his coat and effects. I told Hub to lock the front door, as Jimmy always tried to come back in. I was here at the puter and Hub was reading a newspaper when the doorbell rang. Jimmy said, "Sorry I have to go to the bathroom!" darting past us and slamming the bathroom door. Hub and I exchanged glances. 20 minutes later he re-emerged, and said goodbye. Hub re-latched the deadbolt. Thirty seconds later the doorbell rang again. I rolled my eyes as Hub got up again to see what Jimmy wanted. He poked his head in the door and said, "Be careful, its starting to freeze-up out here," (as if we were planning on going out again) then he was gone. Or so we thought. "Hub, lock that door!" About 5 minutes later, Jimmy returned for the gloves that he'd left behind, pausing to engage us in conversation for another ten minutes. I had to practically push him out the front door again. I was losing patience with Jimmy. I hadnt shut the foyer door yet when the front door popped open again and Jimmy said, "Dont forget to lock your door." My demons were stirring and this time I shoved it closed with a resounding slam and loudly set the deadbolt. I am sure all the neighbors heard it echo. I returned to the puter and saw Jimmy's sunglasses, obviously sending out homing beeps to him, laying on the table.
It was after 11 pm before we were fairly sure Jimmy wasnt coming back...
Then came the roasting, and lemme tell ya, they were merciless. "Crew-Cut" had the group laughing about how we'd all met long ago on Harsen's Island. Hub and I had just purchased our bikes and had ridden out to the Island , stopping to admire the bay. While we were standing there, a group of leather-clad bikers rode up and stopped behind us. Hub figured we were about to be jumped, but I put on my best Howdy-Doody smile and went to greet them. Soon we were all yapping and Hub and I were invited to join the group. Afterward, they were trying to assist us in finding our way back to the ferry, but being unfamiliar with standard hand-signals for riding in groups, Hub and I turned off, when all they were doing was pointing to a road hazard to the right. We didnt know if we had been ditched or ? so we stopped for ice cream and found our own way back to the ferry. That same week, I showed up alone at the meet-n-greet dinner and was treated like I was already family. That was nearly three years ago and we have enjoyed the best family that friends can possibly conjure. Crew-Cut then announced that I am forming my own chapter of the FCRC, which is the Bentonville Arkansas chapter 52, and I am the new president, which drew a round of applause as I took a deep bow. Of course along with the good, comes the bad and I had to give up my officers position with Chapter 20. I congratulated the new Safety Officer, Roosky Bear, and said I would call him during the week to get him up to speed. Roosky Bear smiled, in his quiet, warm way and said he looked forward to it. He was the very last to leave.
Then the roasting began, full force. Comments were made on how we were going to the land where family trees are actually wreaths, where the difference between rednecks and hillbillies are two: Rednecks wear shoes and are rednecks by choice. Poor Hillbillies. That soon we would be saying, "y'all" and "purteneer" (pretty near), and having to make judgment calls that pertain to "If I divorce my wife, is she still my sister?" It was almost non-stop. I couldnt sit down. I knew to order small, so my dinner consisted of a side-salad and sweet potato, and of course, Newcastle Brown Ale. I choked down about half of the food and gave up. It was hard to stand and eat, and I found sitting unbearable. So I wandered about, beer in hand, hugging and slapping leather vests, laughing, joking and taking a good ribbing. I sat for a few moments with "'Bacco", one of the younger members of the group with whom I'd formed a closer friendship. He had no mush, no well-wishes, no questions. He lisped with his pierced tongue, about every day things while his big gray eyes took a walk all over my face. My throat began to hurt and I knew if I sat much longer with him, I'd be face-planting into his smoky teeshirt, balling my eyes out and begging for mercy. Loudy, assessing the situation, redirected me away from 'Bacco and soon had me wheezing with laughter again. Lawd I am gonna miss these folks. Crusty, surviving renal cancer and a bike crash last year, Cardy and Li'l Bit with their new babies, and big ol' Cookie, who sent me a hug via his mom, Back-Talk, the prettiest and sweetest woman in the group.
We'd brought Jimmy Henry with us, and as we got back home, Jimmy came in the house. He plopped down on the sofa and I knew I had to boot his butt outta here. "Jimmy, I said, "you have to go. Its 9:45 and I want to go to bed." He slowly made his way to the door, taking way too much time with his coat and effects. I told Hub to lock the front door, as Jimmy always tried to come back in. I was here at the puter and Hub was reading a newspaper when the doorbell rang. Jimmy said, "Sorry I have to go to the bathroom!" darting past us and slamming the bathroom door. Hub and I exchanged glances. 20 minutes later he re-emerged, and said goodbye. Hub re-latched the deadbolt. Thirty seconds later the doorbell rang again. I rolled my eyes as Hub got up again to see what Jimmy wanted. He poked his head in the door and said, "Be careful, its starting to freeze-up out here," (as if we were planning on going out again) then he was gone. Or so we thought. "Hub, lock that door!" About 5 minutes later, Jimmy returned for the gloves that he'd left behind, pausing to engage us in conversation for another ten minutes. I had to practically push him out the front door again. I was losing patience with Jimmy. I hadnt shut the foyer door yet when the front door popped open again and Jimmy said, "Dont forget to lock your door." My demons were stirring and this time I shoved it closed with a resounding slam and loudly set the deadbolt. I am sure all the neighbors heard it echo. I returned to the puter and saw Jimmy's sunglasses, obviously sending out homing beeps to him, laying on the table.
It was after 11 pm before we were fairly sure Jimmy wasnt coming back...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Itchy-Twitchy and Miss Bitchy...
On our last night in Arkansas, we both tied one on at the manager's reception in the lobby of the hotel. Now I know better than to get drunk on cheap wine, but I did it anyway. And so did Hub. When we got back to the room, we ordered a pizza then began packing for the return home in the morning. Hub forgot his Aveeno skin lotion so he slathered up with the cheap stuff from the hotel, and smelling like a big jasmine blossom, went to bed. I didnt even read or watch tv; I was asleep in 10 seconds, and maybe stayed asleep for 20 minutes. And then the little earthquakes began. I woke to the bed shaking. What the...? Hub was scratching something (I dont want to know) and I went back to sleep. Thirty seconds later, it happened again. OK, no biggie, back to sleep. *WHACK* I got kicked in the leg, and mind you, this is a king size bed. OW! Ok, now I'm having trouble getting back to sleep. Hub appeared to be sleeping , but he would twitch and scratch about every 20 - 30 seconds, so I turned on my reading light and grabbed my book, trying to wait out the invisible fleas that were plaguing him. I figured he'd fall asleep and that would be the end of it. An hour later, he was still at it, but not conscious of any of it! He was flipping like a fish, scratching like a monkey and kicking like a mule until I simply couldnt take it anymore. I shook him awake and told him to go to sleep. "But I was asleep!" He protested. "You're not sleeping, I hissed. "You are as jumpy as a cat on a cactus, now please get rid of your fleas and go to sleep! We have to get up in 4 hours for the plane!" I slammed my book shut, huffed and turned over, muttering bad words under my breath. Having already said my prayers, I figured God didnt have his ears on, and if he did, he had to understand how a twitchy bedmate could bring out the devil in any of us.
Hub apologized and settled back down. I could tell from his soft snores that he had already gone back to sleep. Not me. I was aggravated and as awake as noon. So I opened up my book and began again. And so did he. Twitch, flop, scratch-scratch-scratch, wiggle, snort, kick, twitch. This time I gave him a shove and bellowed, "KNOCK IT OFF!" to which he startled awake. I could see by his bewilderment that he had no idea why I assaulted him. "QUIT TWITCHING!" I yelled. He apologized again and rolled over. I could feel my pulse in my temples. My drunk had worn off and now I was just plain mad with a headache. It was 1:00 a.m. and we had to get up at 4:30 for the flight. I drank a big glass of water and took tylenol and a sleeping pill, clearly forgetting the time I needed for the pill to work and also wear off. I tried to settle down again, closed my book and prayed for sleep. *WHACK* Another sharp kick to my shin which also woke Hub and he frowned at me and said, "Tara, what did you DO that for?" "Do WHAT?" "Kick me! What's going on with you? If you cant sleep, go sit on the sofa and quit annoying me!" At that point, I am sure my face split down the middle and my eyes bugged out on cartoon springs. Fangs burst forth from the demon that I could no longer drive down and I let out a string of words that would make satan lift a brow. I think I now had the boy's attention. I took a deep breath and hissed through clenched teeth, "Ok, Mr. Innocent Bystander. You just sit there a minute and figure it out." Thirty seconds later he scratched the inside of his arm. Ten seconds after that, it was his knee. He scratched here, there and everywhere. I watched with pursed lips and my arms tightly crossed as realization spread over him and he jumped out of bed. "What is in these sheets?!" he cried, scratching his back and his elbow.
The only thing we could figure was the Hub was allergic to the lotion. He got in the shower and using the hotel soap, tried to wash the itch off. But I think it was too late. That poor boy dried off and the scenario began again. Then he made my mistake and took a sleeping pill. I didnt know. I was out.
The wake-up call came 2 hours later and I figured it was a malfunction. I never answered. I just picked up the receiver and put it back down, returning to sleep. BREEEP BREEEP BREEEP there went the phone again. What is wrong with this crazy phone? I lifted the receiver, thinking someone was calling from home. A mechanized female voice, far too cheery, said, "Good morning! This is your wake up call. Have a nice day!" I rubbed my eyes which felt like sandpaper, and tears streaming from the sting, looked at the clock which seemed to be rotating counterclockwise. I shook my head. Gawd was I stoned. The clock said 4:40. Oh shit it really is time to get up. I nudged Hub and he groaned and muttered, "Stoppit Tara." I nudged him again and he sat straight up and yelled, "Oh f---, my head! WHAT?" I managed to get the message across, that we had to move. Now. We both struggled to get out of bed as if someone had glued us in. The sleeping pills. Now I know how they work. They double the effect of gravity, making it impossible to lift your limbs.
There wasnt much conversation between us as we were both suffering from double hangovers, one from cheap wine and the other from a sleeping pill that hadnt had time to wear off. Every movement was torturous and took maximal effort. Neither of us showered. No coffee in the lobby. We did only what was necessary to drag our sorry butts to the airport in the.....oh God, no.....frozen fog again. After scraping the ice off the windshield with our room key-card, (because 'we dont get weather like this') we realized that we couldnt see a hundred feet in front of us. Dammit all.
There were no food counters open at 5 am, so we sat, mute and painfully awake at the gate, our bloodshot eyes saying all that needed to be said. A smattering of other bleary-eyed travelers were there too, but the only sound was the flat screen with CNN blaring a bit too loud. Hub scrounged up some stale bagels and terrible coffee at a little stand that opened, clearly--everything was leftover from yesterday and tasted like it. I just couldnt choke it down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to the fog, all flights will be delayed. Please stay in your boarding area for further updates." (We didnt even look at each other. We knew better.)
Two hours later we boarded the plane, waiting for de-icing. The plane was so darn cold from sitting all night, we could see our breath inside. We taxied to the runway and then were again, delayed by the fog. Back to the gate for de-icing. More delays. An hour afterward we finally took off, looking forward to hot coffee that was never going to happen. Some witless maintenance person had drained the plane's water reserve to prevent freezing and there was no water and no way to flush the toilet on the plane. Everytime someone had to use the toilet, the flight attendant would hand a sanitizing towelette for hands. That was the best she could do.
Arriving in Detroit, my suitcase had both legs and a wheel broken off, and one of the wires was poking out from the seam, which had split open. We dragged it through the snowy parking lot to our car, and headed home. On the freeway, Hub got tagged for speeding and was written a ticket.
And that is about all I have to say for today. Goodnight.
Hub apologized and settled back down. I could tell from his soft snores that he had already gone back to sleep. Not me. I was aggravated and as awake as noon. So I opened up my book and began again. And so did he. Twitch, flop, scratch-scratch-scratch, wiggle, snort, kick, twitch. This time I gave him a shove and bellowed, "KNOCK IT OFF!" to which he startled awake. I could see by his bewilderment that he had no idea why I assaulted him. "QUIT TWITCHING!" I yelled. He apologized again and rolled over. I could feel my pulse in my temples. My drunk had worn off and now I was just plain mad with a headache. It was 1:00 a.m. and we had to get up at 4:30 for the flight. I drank a big glass of water and took tylenol and a sleeping pill, clearly forgetting the time I needed for the pill to work and also wear off. I tried to settle down again, closed my book and prayed for sleep. *WHACK* Another sharp kick to my shin which also woke Hub and he frowned at me and said, "Tara, what did you DO that for?" "Do WHAT?" "Kick me! What's going on with you? If you cant sleep, go sit on the sofa and quit annoying me!" At that point, I am sure my face split down the middle and my eyes bugged out on cartoon springs. Fangs burst forth from the demon that I could no longer drive down and I let out a string of words that would make satan lift a brow. I think I now had the boy's attention. I took a deep breath and hissed through clenched teeth, "Ok, Mr. Innocent Bystander. You just sit there a minute and figure it out." Thirty seconds later he scratched the inside of his arm. Ten seconds after that, it was his knee. He scratched here, there and everywhere. I watched with pursed lips and my arms tightly crossed as realization spread over him and he jumped out of bed. "What is in these sheets?!" he cried, scratching his back and his elbow.
The only thing we could figure was the Hub was allergic to the lotion. He got in the shower and using the hotel soap, tried to wash the itch off. But I think it was too late. That poor boy dried off and the scenario began again. Then he made my mistake and took a sleeping pill. I didnt know. I was out.
The wake-up call came 2 hours later and I figured it was a malfunction. I never answered. I just picked up the receiver and put it back down, returning to sleep. BREEEP BREEEP BREEEP there went the phone again. What is wrong with this crazy phone? I lifted the receiver, thinking someone was calling from home. A mechanized female voice, far too cheery, said, "Good morning! This is your wake up call. Have a nice day!" I rubbed my eyes which felt like sandpaper, and tears streaming from the sting, looked at the clock which seemed to be rotating counterclockwise. I shook my head. Gawd was I stoned. The clock said 4:40. Oh shit it really is time to get up. I nudged Hub and he groaned and muttered, "Stoppit Tara." I nudged him again and he sat straight up and yelled, "Oh f---, my head! WHAT?" I managed to get the message across, that we had to move. Now. We both struggled to get out of bed as if someone had glued us in. The sleeping pills. Now I know how they work. They double the effect of gravity, making it impossible to lift your limbs.
There wasnt much conversation between us as we were both suffering from double hangovers, one from cheap wine and the other from a sleeping pill that hadnt had time to wear off. Every movement was torturous and took maximal effort. Neither of us showered. No coffee in the lobby. We did only what was necessary to drag our sorry butts to the airport in the.....oh God, no.....frozen fog again. After scraping the ice off the windshield with our room key-card, (because 'we dont get weather like this') we realized that we couldnt see a hundred feet in front of us. Dammit all.
There were no food counters open at 5 am, so we sat, mute and painfully awake at the gate, our bloodshot eyes saying all that needed to be said. A smattering of other bleary-eyed travelers were there too, but the only sound was the flat screen with CNN blaring a bit too loud. Hub scrounged up some stale bagels and terrible coffee at a little stand that opened, clearly--everything was leftover from yesterday and tasted like it. I just couldnt choke it down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to the fog, all flights will be delayed. Please stay in your boarding area for further updates." (We didnt even look at each other. We knew better.)
Two hours later we boarded the plane, waiting for de-icing. The plane was so darn cold from sitting all night, we could see our breath inside. We taxied to the runway and then were again, delayed by the fog. Back to the gate for de-icing. More delays. An hour afterward we finally took off, looking forward to hot coffee that was never going to happen. Some witless maintenance person had drained the plane's water reserve to prevent freezing and there was no water and no way to flush the toilet on the plane. Everytime someone had to use the toilet, the flight attendant would hand a sanitizing towelette for hands. That was the best she could do.
Arriving in Detroit, my suitcase had both legs and a wheel broken off, and one of the wires was poking out from the seam, which had split open. We dragged it through the snowy parking lot to our car, and headed home. On the freeway, Hub got tagged for speeding and was written a ticket.
And that is about all I have to say for today. Goodnight.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I went to the Library
to get a book on Arkansas.
.
.
.
there werent any.
I checked the childrens' section and found some elementary school books that had Arkansas information in them, but the only other thing was a writers book from the WPA. The book was written in 1940. Of course things have changed since then, right?
.
.
.
there werent any.
I checked the childrens' section and found some elementary school books that had Arkansas information in them, but the only other thing was a writers book from the WPA. The book was written in 1940. Of course things have changed since then, right?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Back to Detroit tomorrow morning...
We think we may have found a home! Can this really be happening already? I was out with Cowboy Jack for the last few days and still, that house on Crazy Horse Drive in Rogers is sticking with me. We took hub to see it today and he was so impressed he told me to make an offer. Wow. Why am I reluctant? Do I think there is something better out there? Not really.... Is the whole situation intimidating me? Perhaps.
If you want to see what we are looking at, the MLS# is 584583. You can find it on www.harrismchaney.com or any real estate site where you can search by MLS. You will get a virtual tour on harrismchaney. Hub is urging me to move quickly. Why am I so scared?
If you want to see what we are looking at, the MLS# is 584583. You can find it on www.harrismchaney.com or any real estate site where you can search by MLS. You will get a virtual tour on harrismchaney. Hub is urging me to move quickly. Why am I so scared?
A hunting we will go...
House hunting. Some good, some not so good. Hub is at work today, but should have a fairly easy day just taking care of administrative things, then he will be free to do some house hunting with me. I am sure he is thrilled beyond measure at the thought of it. There is a lot available, but our concerns are that the house continue to increase in value and keep up its resale value. I have to have my kitchen, and the birds have to have a separate place that they can be comfy and cared for, but we can close a door and have some peace. Imagine shopping for a house with concerns for your birds. Crazy or devoted???
Monday, February 1, 2010
At Last, A spark of Hope...
Cowboy Jack and I went out and around, looking at some pretty houses on woody ravines, McMansions (yuck) in gated communities, and a few disasters for which Jack apologized. The sun came out for a while and burned off all the fog, making it much more enjoyable to ride around and see where I was going. Hub checked in from time to time. He was having a good day on the job, learning the ins and outs of the corporation and hanging out with his boss, who he said, is a lot like him. That scared me a bit, but when the boss has a temp come in to clean up his desk and files, I heaved a sigh of relief. Neatness is not one of my darling's strong points.
One house we visited was supposed to be vacant, but we found two giant schnauzers guarding the place and we had a devil of a time getting in. There was definitely someone living there, as the fridge was stuffed with food and toiletries scattered on the main bath. The dogs were great once they figured out we were not going to do any harm and they appreciated us letting them out to relieve themselves.
We ate at an Italian restaurant (See honey? There really are Italians in Arkansas!) and afterward had a meeting with Cowboy Jack at his office to gather info and talk logistics. Tomorrow I will be out again with Jack and Hub will be back at it at the HQ. At least there is some semblance of "normal" returning to this trip. Oh and people that live in Arkansas are called "Arkansans" not Arkansonians like I thought. Although I did learn that some people dont say AR-kan-saw, the say ar-KAN-zis, and that too, is correct.
One house we visited was supposed to be vacant, but we found two giant schnauzers guarding the place and we had a devil of a time getting in. There was definitely someone living there, as the fridge was stuffed with food and toiletries scattered on the main bath. The dogs were great once they figured out we were not going to do any harm and they appreciated us letting them out to relieve themselves.
We ate at an Italian restaurant (See honey? There really are Italians in Arkansas!) and afterward had a meeting with Cowboy Jack at his office to gather info and talk logistics. Tomorrow I will be out again with Jack and Hub will be back at it at the HQ. At least there is some semblance of "normal" returning to this trip. Oh and people that live in Arkansas are called "Arkansans" not Arkansonians like I thought. Although I did learn that some people dont say AR-kan-saw, the say ar-KAN-zis, and that too, is correct.
It just doesnt stop
I got up with Hub and made sure he was on time to start work today. We had breakfast here in the hotel, then headed out into the white wasteland to get him to Walmart Training Center. First item on the agenda? Learning the Walmart Cheer! Oh thank you Lord that its him and not me. The GPS quit working for some unknown reason and sent us in repeating circles. We managed to find the training center on our own and I made it back to the hotel.
Back in the room, I got a call from Cowboy Jack and we are meeting today. At least he knows who to look for this time. I had to get ready, so after morning ablutions, I took a big dump and again, the toilet refused to flush. No please God, please cut me a break this time? Please? But God was busy with more important things than my big dump and small plumbing problem, so I cringed and called the front desk. McGuiver answered and I told him what was going on. He said he was looking for some zip-ties to fix the toilet mechanism. I dont really care how you fix it, Sweetie, just do it. Meanwhile I filled the wastepaper basket with water and did away with the nuclear waste in the bowl. I am beginning to think that someone back home has hired a witch doctor to cast some bad juju on this whole Arkansas thing. Mom? Would you sink to such measures? Um, yes.
Back in the room, I got a call from Cowboy Jack and we are meeting today. At least he knows who to look for this time. I had to get ready, so after morning ablutions, I took a big dump and again, the toilet refused to flush. No please God, please cut me a break this time? Please? But God was busy with more important things than my big dump and small plumbing problem, so I cringed and called the front desk. McGuiver answered and I told him what was going on. He said he was looking for some zip-ties to fix the toilet mechanism. I dont really care how you fix it, Sweetie, just do it. Meanwhile I filled the wastepaper basket with water and did away with the nuclear waste in the bowl. I am beginning to think that someone back home has hired a witch doctor to cast some bad juju on this whole Arkansas thing. Mom? Would you sink to such measures? Um, yes.
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