I Love You. Goodbye.

Do you remember my brilliant cousin, K.C.? She's the singer/songwriter. (I mentioned "brilliant," right?) Today's her birthday. And, it made me realize I never told you about her new album: The Tag Hollow Sessions. It's awesome. Duh. But, guess what? One of the songs on the album... IS MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (I'm a little possessive.)

Maybe I should tell you the back story.

When she produced her last album, Orchid, she did it by asking her friends and family to become her record label. She explains it better here. If you contributed at a certain level, you could choose for her to write you a song. Like I wasn't going to choose that, right?! Well, it turns out, you can't just flip K.C. to "on" and watch her crank out a song. Who knew? So, I patiently waited for my song... 

Then one day she sent me a message saying she was writing my song. Yay! As it turns out she had read this blog post. Go ahead. Read it. I'll wait... Finished? Good. Could you write a song out of that?! Me either. We suck. But, K.C. doesn't. She took that blog post, coupled it with my real life, and wrote this:

"Just in Case" (Click the song title, you can hear it on iTunes. It's song #13)
I don't wanna answer the phone.
These days are taking their toll
'Cause it's never good news calling.
And you. You are my port in the storm.
You're what I'm waking up for.
You remind me the sky's not falling.

But, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

I was never fond of surprises.
I like the way the sun rises.
You can count on it every morning.
But, now, so many people around us,
They ain't got nothing but sadness.
And it came without any warning.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case, oh, just in case

The hands on all the clocks have stopped.
The life that we once lived is lost.
I don't want to be full of words
I wish I'd said,
I wish you'd heard.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, 'cause baby our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

..........

Holy crap it's good, huh? And, it's MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (Well, and Shawn's, too. But, mostly. MINE.)

She's brilliant.

And, that leads me to this:

I just heard another song. An oldie, but goodie. And, it sums up how I feel about this blog.

"Too Busy Being in Love" by Doug Stone

Songwriters: Gary Burr, Victoria Shaw
If I had taken the time

To write down a few lines

Every time you crossed this heart of mine,

I'd put them all in a book.

How much time would that have took?

The words and years have a way of slipping by.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.

I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

Brand new phrases appear every time you are near.
All these words you inspire after all these years.

But I never reached for a pen.

Break the mood that I'm in.

Before I knew it the words were gone again.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.
I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

I could have written a poem to make young lovers crazy.
Could have written a movie for Hepburn and Tracy.

A beautiful song and it starts with your name.

Written my way into fortune and fame.

But I have no regrets for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

..........

Y'all. I love my family. I love my life. It's not perfect. By far. But, it's mine. And, I love living it. And, right now, I don't want to write about it. I just want to live it.

I've lived long enough to know to never say never. So, I'm not saying I'll never come back here to post. The next time I find a potato chip that looks like Abe Lincoln, I am so coming back here to write a post about it. But, until that earth shattering occasion occurs...

I'm too busy being in love.

Bye, y'all.

The Post You've All Been Waiting For (Yes, you have. You know you have. SHUT UP. You have.)

So. You remember how I was in a little ol' play? I mentioned that, right? Once or four times? And, then disappeared off the face of the earth for ten weeks or so?

Well, it went down like this:

Play rehearsal, play rehearsal, play rehearsal, play rehearsal.

Play, play.

No more play. Funk for a week while I mourned the fact that there was no one in my real life who would applaud me on a daily basis. Bastards.

Then the family went out of town for a family reunion.

Then I followed Shawn on a business trip to San Antonio.

Then I got the plague. I was sick for about a week. Nearly died. Then I slept for 16 hours (many hours of which I still owed myself from the aforementioned play practice and play). And now I'm better.

I feel like myself again. I hope it doesn't take me four weeks of being useless after the next play before my life returns to normal. Because, let's not kid ourselves, if they'll have me, there will be a next play. And, I'm not sure how long Shawn's sunny, supportive disposition will last with a wife who needs a month of trudging through her regular life and responsibilities before she can construct a coherent sentence. Much less be delightful and charming again. (Shut up.)

But, anyway. For the past week or so, I've been hanging out at the Little Theater again, helping with the sets for the upcoming musical. I'm pretty much like a stray cat they accidentally fed and now they can't shake. Poor, poor unsuspecting people. I think I saw a horror movie that started this way.

Anyhooo... What I guess I'm trying to say is:

I'm baaaaack.

Something's got to give

Turns out learning 90 or so pages of dialogue

and

maintaining my self-imposed Spanish-learning schedule (Oh wait. That one had to give, too.)

and

trying to make sure my family doesn't feel neglected by my new obligation

and

dealing with Lulu's raging case of strep throat with high fevers and such bad wheezing that she required breathing treatments

and

Shawn's upper respiratory/ear infections - so severe that I found myself putting aside my life view that he's a grown-ass man who can take care of himself and instead worrying that he was going to end up in the hospital with pneumonia

and

traveling to meet him while he was at a meeting in New York; getting stuck in Houston on the return trip home and promised a flight home two days later; not accepting that solution and driving the ten hours home (with a 2am pit stop in Wichita Falls; 5 hours of sleep and hitting the road again)

and

getting ready to take the kids skiing for their President's Day break from school

leaves 

no time to blog.

Until this play runs the first two weekends in March, I will hereby reference this blog post as "Post 2.14" and refer to it when life is just too crazy - and something has to give. And, judging from the fact that this very post sat unfinished on my computer for a week... I'll probably be referencing it a lot.

One Other Little Obsession: Where Did I Come From?

Shawn was returning from the "old" hometown one night a couple of weeks ago. I sat down on the couch to watch TV and await his arrival.

(Does that give you images of a captain's wife looking out to sea anxiously awaiting any sight of her beloved's ship? 'Cause that's kinda what it was like. Only a lot less dramatic. And, no anxiety. And, a lot more TV... Anyway, I digress...)

I have no idea why - I've seen a thousand ancestory.com commercials - but, the one that came on that night totally sucked me. I just thought I would log on and see what I could see. Without "joining," of course.

I "joined," of course.

Three days later I emerged, after totally bingeing on census forms and birth records. I didn't know as much about my paternal grandmother as I should have, though. So, I shot my Aunt Pat (my dad's sister) a message - because, come on, we all know dads don't pay attention to stuff like where their moms were born!

Holy-wealth-of-information, Batman! I'm pretty sure this is what they mean when they say you should ask questions of your elders. Aunt Pat knows everything - at least everything I needed to get me off and running up the family tree again!

But, as quickly as I got sucked in, I lost interest. I got back to people being born in the 1700s, but there was no way to know if the information I was gathering was accurate; if the John Bassett born in 1770 was really my grandmother's great-great-grandfather. Especially, since a lot of the information you find is other people's family trees - subject to their own mistakes.

That. And, my paternal grandfather's side quickly jumped across the pond to Sweden. Turns out I can't read Swedish. So, their official documents were a little less than helpful to me.

But, my main conclusions?

• If I have any hope of tracing back to the Mayflower (P.S. I don't.), it would be through my paternal grandmother.
• My paternal grandfather - well, he's Swedish. (But, I did figure out through my own deduction that there must have been a settlement of Swedes in Iowa. Not only was my grandpa's dad born in Sweden, but so was his mom's dad. And, Aunt Pat told me I was right. I'm a total history detective!)
• And, my maternal side? Um. I don't know how to say this, but there's a small chance we're a bunch of hillbillies. As in, the guy who kept marrying twenty-year-olds when his wives died - even when he was 54 (which was, like, as good as dead in 1884). He married three of them. And had 15 kids with them. So. I don't know. Maybe he wasn't a hillbilly. Maybe he was was just a dawg. But, most of these people were born in the hills of Tennessee. Isn't that, by definition, a hillbilly?

So. My heritage. I'm a Swedish Hillbilly.

But, now. I have a confession. I've been clicking back over there as I typed this post. I kinda want to start searching again. They have this little leaf that shakes at you if they have documents that they believe pertain to a person in your family tree - and I have a lot of leaves shaking over there!

Alright, I guess this is goodbye. Between ancestory.com and Spanish, when will I possibly find the time to blog?!

This, That and The Other

Whatcha been dooooooin'....?

Me?

I've been:

a) not blogging.

b) READING. I mean reading like they're about to stop making books.

I've read The Thirteenth Tale (for the third time. I'm telling y'all. It's hard to get into, but the ending. OMG. The ending. It makes it all worth it.)

I've read Guilt By Association (a friend's suggestion). Another one with a great ending, although I felt like I was trudging through parts in the middle.

And, also, because I'm a girl and I thought it was a requirement to read Nicholas Sparks, I read his most recent The Best of Me. Oh, sweet Lord. Those are a couple days of my life I'll never have back. CHEE-SY! I feel like Mr. Sparks might owe me some compensation for the part of my brain his corny story is occupying and won't relinquish.

c) learning Spanish. ¡Ay de mi! Es muy dificil. Posiblemente, porque soy estúpido.* Y'all? This is not an aptitude for me. I have a friend (from Brazil nonetheless) who says she loves learning new languages. This. is. not. something I can comprehend. But, I refuse (REFUSE. Do you hear me?!) to let this thing beat me! So. After a brief lengthy hiatus, I'm back at it. Rosetta Stone made me do about ten reviews before I was back at the lesson where I left off. I think that was it's way of reminding me how long I'd been gone. Tacky, Rosetta Stone. Tacky.

d) traveling. When you think of a chid-friendly, blast of a destination, where do you think? NEW JERSEY! I know! Us too! Long story, short, we were going to go with another couple to visit some friends who had moved to Jersey. But at the last minute the other couple had to cancel. Since our kids have known this family (in Elizabeth's case, literally) their whole lives, we decided to pack them up and take them with us. Best decision we've made in a while. Our kids and their kids had such a blast together, there were even a few damp eyes as our visit neared its end. And, on the drive to the airport, the kids asked why we can't just move to New Jersey. I'd say that's a good time.

e) holding down the fort. Shawn's out of town. Again. But, he gets back tonight. I would like to reiterate my theory that he just leaves town so I will appreciate how much better life is when he's here. That. And, he wants to be sure I know who the favored parent is by letting me hear our children ask, "When is Daddy coming home?" three or four times a day.

So. That's life in a nutshell.

I'm going to work on Spanish. *groan*

* Use Google Translate - you can see what that means.

I'm OK! I'm OK! I'm OK!

Wow. You people really know how to make a girl feel loved. I have been so touched by all of the "are you ok?"s and "I miss you"s and "just checking on you"s and "thinking of you"s and "keep blogging"s.

I swear I'm okay! To be quite honest, I needed a break. I was starting to feel like this:

I wasn't quite sure who I was blogging for. Me? Or random people on the internet from whom I was hoping to get validation? But, y'all reminded me. I have real, live family and friends out there who like to keep up with us this way. And, if you don't like to hear what I say (or if I remind you of the dude in the picture); you can stop reading.

But, now, because of you, this blogging feels more like connecting with people I really know (or "virtually" know) and less like a job for which I don't getting paid. So. Thanks.

Now. To catch up. Spence has been playing flag football. He can't run very fast. Or catch the ball. But. The boy is huge. He plugs holes nicely. Therefore, he is one of the best players on the team. :)

We still have season tickets to the Texas Tech home football games. We've driven two hours there and back for all the home games this season - because evidently we're oddly fanatic like that. Who knew? We took the kids to a game. Lulu h.a.t.e.d. it. We had to wake her early and abruptly from her nap to get there... and it went downhill from there. It finally culminating in her crashing head first into a chair so hard that she had an instantaneous goose egg on her forehead. We allowed her to go home then. I don't think she's too crazy about the idea of any more football games - no matter how cute she looked in her cheerleading uniform.

Also, we finally wrapped up Spence's week and a half of birthday celebrating. I'm not sure how he did it. But, the boy just kept the festivities going! He had football practice on his official birthday. So, that day I just brought a cookie cake to school and cookies to practice. Then he wanted to take his Aggie G'Pa to the A&M v. Tech game in Lubbock so he could mock him the whole time (that plan didn't work out too well). While in Lubbock, his Nanny treated him to a birthday dinner (with cake). Then, we were finally able to get together here at home with G'Ma & G'Pa for a family birthday dinner (with cake) a week after his real birthday. And, this Friday he had some boys over for a birthday slumber party (with cake). We should all take lessons from Spencer about celebrating birthdays.

FYI - Shawn and I kept six 7- and 8-year-old boys alive for 15 hours and even got them 7 1/2 hours of sleep. We shall count ourselves victorious slumber-partiers.

So. That's about it. I'm glad to say, I'm glad to be back. Hope you're glad to see me. (And, contrary to what I threatened my friend Brandon, I won't hold this post hostage until I get at least 50 people to tell me how much they love my blog. ;)

See you soon. (As long as it doesn't feel like a not-for-profit-job.)

Don't Worry

I just don't feel like blogging right now. I'll be back when I do.

Yes! That CAN be my next tweet

OK. So, I don't think I've made much of a secret of the fact that I just can't get into Twitter. I can't. Unless I'm staring at it 24/7, I feel like I'm missing everything that's going on. And, I don't like trying to figure out what people have responded to me about which tweet. It's just all so very exhausting. Facebook puts it all so neatly in its own little comment thread, with pretty little notices to tell you who commented about what. So pretty. So OCD. I don't care if it means I'm not young and hip. I'm a Facebook girl.

But, I do feel Twitter guilt. Like, if I just tried harder, I could make my relationship with Twitter work. (Wait. Am I in an abusive relationship with Twitter?!) So, when I saw the link to "Yes. That can be my next tweet." I was sold. Please, all-knowing website, tell me what to tweet. Then Twitter won't feel so used by me just putting links to my blog posts up there.

It told me this:

Ahhh. shucks. thanks so much! AND being scolded. by my car. i've opened the house. i hate that!

(Ummm. Should this all be one tweet? If so, I hope I've learned my lesson about opening the house to the self-righteous car. But, then. It looks like I have. And, I wonder what I'm so humbly thankful for? Not the car. That's for sure.)

So, that can't be right. I tried again:

Well that's a Snowman That Keep Me Up at the radio. hope you should move.

(This isn't getting any better. Now it seems English has become my second language.)

Again:

The what a warning. sorry. my car make me it's more fun with me it's more fun with the full face = the.

(And, now I've suffered a full break with reality. Or a stroke. But, at least it seems to be "fun." But, the car again. Why does Twitter want to keep talking about my car? It's a five-year-old Hond Pilot, Twitter. Let it go.)

And, finally:

Oh. My compulsion is 11 days before Halloween. Is this "twitter" thing EVER on?! Who Taught Her - The Johnsons.

(I believe that about sums it up. But, might I warn everyone to steer clear of me on October 20th. Compulsions are not to be taken lightly, people.)

Or this:

Well. I don't know which direction to talk about it up here?! wait. there's PIZZA.

(That's always my reaction to pizza.)

Anyway. What were we talking about? Did someone say, "pizza?"

How Do You Spell "Narcissism"?

It's weird to link to a post that links to me, right? I don't care. Deal with it.

God bless, Adam Frayle and his British boost of my confidence! (http://af1blog.wordpress.com/2011/04/12/youve-gotta-laugh/)

Wow. Cool, huh?

Now I'll admit, I never tire of you all telling me you like this blog, or that I make you laugh. (Seriously. NEVER tire of it. Don't stop. Why aren't you complimenting me right now?!) But, a complete stranger? Devoting an entire post to liking my blog?

Some call it Stalking. I call it Love.

And he's from the UK. He spells "humour" with an "ou"! I'm totally building bridges. I'm my own little World Peace ambassador. Shut up that we're already peaceful with the UK. (I can't hear you! lalalalalalalala!) I'm saving the world. One blog post at a time.

Sadly, Adam got in touch with me to tell me that, no matter how he tried, he could never comment on my blog. Oh, the horror! Someone wants to say something nice to me and I'm missing it?! This must be rectified. If any of the rest of you, dear readers, are having the same problem, I. am. so. sorry. As, my first act of diplomatic importance, I shall try to get this fixed post-haste. (That sounds like the fancy-talk an ambassador would use, right?)

I hope this doesn't create an international incident. The pressure. You know? It is true what they say: With great power comes great responsibility. I wonder how Oprah handles it?

I think I'm probably on a "Watch List"

So. My maiden name. It's Selim. We pronounce it Salem. We got it from my Swedish great-grandfather. But, that name doesn't scream Scandinavian ancestry.

Couple it with my first name, Ali (really just the first part of Alison) and... well... growing up, people did not expect to see me walk through the door.

It really did take me two weeks longer than Shawn to get my passport approved. I'm just saying. My maiden name is misleading.

Well, last night I realized that this post ("I'd Like a Side of Cardboard with that, Please") is listed over there ---> as one of my most popular ones. ?! That doesn't make any sense. I mean it's clever (duh!), but it's nothing special. Then I realized it had the word "anthrax" in it.

Then, today they arrested a suspected terrorist in the town from which I just moved. The article even quotes the Assistant Attorney General stressing the "importance of vigilance."

Uh oh. I'm so on a "watch list." But, let's be clear. Unlike this suspect, I have never:

• researched online how to construct an IED using several chemicals as ingredients;
• acquired or taken a substantial step toward acquiring most of the ingredients and equipment necessary to construct an IED;
• conducted online research of several potential U.S. targets;
• or described my desire for violent jihad and martyrdom in blog postings and a personal journal.

Nope. Nope, Homeland Security. Just a simple ol' housewife here talking about my bizarro sunroom, roach encounters and how much I love my son and daughter; and, maybe, just maybe, every now and then I get hit on, just to keep it exciting.

So, perhaps I'm good. *fingers crossed*



P.S. Before I posted this I asked Shawn, "Will you come read this blog post and make sure I can publish it without getting arrested as a terrorist?" He answered, "I'm going to say, 'No. You can't.' just for the fact you think you have to ask."

Oh yeah. I signed up with bloglovin. Hopefully, I can be a better follower of all my favorite blogs this way. You can follow my blog with bloglovin by clicking here.

I wanted to come up with another song to get stuck in your head for today's post title. But, I couldn't think of one. So I'll just say this: "I Got You Babe." You're Welcome.

My sister called to check on me. Big sisters will never listen. I kicked her in the crotch.

After I got off the phone with her, Shawn said, "What was that?" (Um. Honey? You don't read my blog?! WTH?!)

I told him, "I wrote a 'wah, wah, wah' blog post yesterday."

And, truly. That's what it was. I just needed to feel sorry for myself for a minute, get it out of my system and move on. Pity, Party of One?

Thanks for listening. Thanks for not making me feel like a doofus for "sharing." You guys really are the greatest.

I feel much better today.

Also, after the post the following happened:

• Shawn found us a babysitter* so I could go to the Book Club of which I had counted myself out. (Probably the origin of my whining yesterday, truth be told. Shawn had an event. My in-laws were snowed in**. I was going to miss the first "girl thing" I had been looking forward to for a month.) But, I got to go! And, talk to grown-ups! And, there were cookies!
• Shawn and I got an Evite to a cocktail hour at a church we visited. (Love the churches that throw happy hours!) I'm not even sure we can go. But we got invited!
• I went to Elizabeth's Valentine's Party at school. I was reminded. There will be opportunities to be around other people. (And, sometimes, those opportunities are class parties. With loud children everywhere. And I wonder why I thought solitude was such a bad thing... I jest... Kinda.)

Like I knew all along. It will happen. It just takes time. I have to be patient.

Have I mentioned I'm not very good at "patient"?

But, thanks again for thinking of me. Thanks for not worrying about me (out loud). If you all are examples of the friends that are out there waiting for me, I have amazing things ahead of me, indeed. 

Today is a much brighter day.

*Awesome girl. She came even though I called her at the last minute. She drove in snow and ice**. She got stuck in a snowbank at the edge of our steep driveway when she arrived; she threw open her door and said, "I think I'll park here!" Both kids woke up this morning and told us at separate times how much they liked her and that "she was funny!" (I think she read their bedtime stories with funny voices. A Johnson favorite, evidently.)

**Have I mentioned that there's about six inches of ice covering everything around here? Have I mentioned that Wednesday morning, after this blew in, it felt like NEGATIVE 26 degrees outside? I'm not sure why I'm whining about meeting people. I should probably be more concerned with The End of Times!

What I've been doing while I wasn't blogging

I know it's been long enough since I've checked in that some of you have started to worry that the reality of moving has finally sunk in and I've begun rocking myself in the corner. I haven't.

What I haven't been able to tell you is that Shawn moved me to a new city and then left town for ten days.

Rude.

I couldn't tell you because of the murderers and all... And, by the way, my fears were not alleviated by the fact that he took the time to reacquaint me with the handgun before he left. Awesome. He thinks he's moved me to a town of thieves and scoundrels.

But, I scored some really awesome roses out of the deal.

And, he's back now, being as helpful around the house and with the kids as ever. I can get back to blogging. Finally. Does he not know how his earning a living really interferes with what I want to do sometimes?! (His response would be: "Yeah. Turns out everyone in the family likes to eat.")

So, to catch you up:

Thursday, I traveled two hours to get my hair done. Excessive? If you think so, clearly you've never loved your hair colorist. That. And, it's Joyce who's taken care of me since I was fifteen. Sometimes you just have to travel two hours to get your hair done.

While I was there, I asked her to wax my eyebrows. Eyebrow maintenance has been very low on my list of priorities since moving. I just haven't been motivated to find "an eyebrow person." (I'm not sure how one gets oneself motivate to find "an eyebrow person," actually.) Joyce went to work and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, girl! These eyebrows! No wonder you haven't made any friends up there!"

Rude.

And, right after she ripped the wax off she said, "That was probably like the first time!" Well, ummm, Joyce? I'm not sure what "first time" you're talking about, but,  no. No, it wasn't. At all.

I'm proud to announce that the last of the boxes are unpacked (well, except for the piles and piles and piles of boxes of china and crystal. Why, pray tell, do I own so much china and crystal? You would think I'm much fancier than I actually am. But, there's nowhere for it to go in this house, so, for now, it will stay in the boxes and I shall proclaim myself unpacked! And fancy...)

Back to the story: On Friday, I worked on actually decorating the house. My mom has a friend who is a decorator. And, if you think I'm too proud to take advantage of that relationship, you'd be wrong. That was slower going than I thought. And, of course I discovered that I needed to buy a few things because, well, duh.

Priscilla came to visit on Saturday. And, since she was here we asked her to babysit so we could go on a Date Night. We're awesome hosts like that. Seriously. We should write a book.

But, we all had fun while she visited. You would have thought by the kids' reactions that iCarly herself had come for a visit.

We all drove back to Lubbock together on Sunday. We had to clear some final things out of the house for closing (turns out the new owners don't want our broken armoir or ottoman, or all the miscellaneous crap that was hiding under said armoir and ottoman - weird). And, on Monday there was that shopping I told you had to be done for the new house...

But, anyway. We're back. The kids are back to school. I'm back to blogging. All is right with the world.

The house is a wreck. So, I'm off to get busy. A girl doesn't score roses around here for nothin', you know!



Also, for those of you who have been wondering, the divorce is final. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I never want to experience anything like that again. as. long. as. I. live.

Have you missed me?

Have you missed me? Tell me your answer is "yes." I really need you to say "yes." I'm just going to pretend that you said "yes." K? K.

I was going to check in on Monday, but the telephone/internet modem was out. I was composing the scathing blog I was going to post about how much I loathe the internet provider up here (who seems to have a monopoly on the market), until the technician arrived and asked, "Where's the power cord?" Power cord? Oh, you mean the power cord I put in the garage with the other power cords because I couldn't figure out where it came from? That power cord? So, yeah, my internet and telephone were down for three days because I unplugged it. I've officially lost my mind.

Then I came down with a 24 hour bug. I'll spare you the details. You're welcome.

Anyway, I'm back. And, the update is: I've been unpacking. People? Not one of you told me that this was awful. Yeah, sure, you can try to pass the blame by saying that I could have remembered from some of my previous umpteen moves that unpacking was awful. But, I feel like you should just take responsibility and admit that not. a. one. of you reminded me that this would be awful; that cleaning the bathrooms today would feel like a pleasant escape from unpacking.

I have now reached that vicious cycle of moving piles back and forth because a) I don't really know what I'm going to do with them; or b) I haven't decided if I should keep them or not. I'm about to reach c) so sick of the mess, anything without a place is going to get thrown away. That's a shame, since one of the homeless things I'm looking at right now is a Baccarat vase. Oh well. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

In happier news:

The kids love their new school. I'm pretty sure the overwhelming reasons are "big lockers" (Spence); "Expended Day" (Elizabeth) [Extended Day - the program after their morning classes where Lulu can eat lunch, take a nap and generally have a romping good time in "the fun room"]; and backpacks (Spencer and Lulu). I'm not picky. I was just happy to see those smiling (but, tired) faces when I picked them up from their first day yesterday.

And, everyone is so nice to me at their school. I don't know if I expected them to kick me in the shins every time I had a question or what. But, truly, I haven't felt like I've asked a dumb question yet (and, y'all, I've asked plenty of dumb questions). But, as Shawn said, "Those must be really nice people. Everyone is consistently nice. They couldn't all fake it every single time we have an interaction with them."

In other news:
Have you ever tried shopping for school supplies in the middle of the school year? Don't. Or get ready to hear this a lot: "That's a seasonal item." (And, that would be in reference to a pencil box!)

So, that's about it. I leave you with this anecdote (and a promise to check back in much sooner):
Spencer, Elizabeth and I were squeezed into the handicap stall in the Target restroom (going to the bathroom with children - I don't care who you are, that is a handicap). Spencer went. I lined the toilet so Elizabeth could go and she got slightly obsessed with the fact that she ripped the paper when she sat on it. She finished and I was going to go. Elizabeth said, "Brother, do you think Mommy can go pee-pee without ripping the paper?" Spencer: "Yeah." Elizabeth: "Yeah. But, she's got a big bottom."

Rude.

It's a Christmas Miracle

I'm sitting in my new house. On. the. internet. One of my neighbors has wireless that's not password protected. I love my new neighbors.

Gotta go! I'm getting dirty looks from my husband for being on the computer instead of helping direct the movers.

Christmas love! Moving miracles! Check back when I can.

Refrigerators: The Things That Keep Me Up at Night

Ok. I don't like to post twice in one day. (Well, technically, it's after midnight so this is really the next day. But, it's before 9:00 a.m., so my point is...) The email subscribers will get both of my most recent posts in one email. And, I worry that they'll miss the second one. And, that would be sad because what if I wrote something that would make them happy in the second post, and they miss it. I live to make the world happy. (And, yes. I do know what the email posts look like and when they are sent out because I subscribe to my own blog. I'm narcissistic like that.)

Wow. That was all really rambly. It's either because It's after midnight and I should go to sleep (Okay. That one's true whether it's the reason I'm rambly or not), or I've officially snapped because I chose to move over the holidays. I don't feel like I've snapped. But then again, crazy people never know they're crazy, do they?

Anyway, where was I?

Ok, Rambly, settle down and get to the point.

Which was?

I don't know. Oh, wait. Refrigerators.

Yes. This is what keeps me up when the rest of the world sleeps. Refrigerators. We had a built-in in the house we're leaving, so we need to buy a new one. I spent about 5 whole minutes googling refrigerator ratings, but that was really boring. So, I need you to tell me.

I think I really like the freezer on the bottom kind, but I don't know why. I probably just like it like I like shiny things. It's new, it's pretty, it's a freezer on the bottom! But, truly, it seems like I would want to be able to see the things in my fridge at eye-level so that fruit doesn't sit in the crisper drawers near the floor and turn into a science experiments. (Not that I would ever let that happen in my refrigerator. That would be unseemly!)

So, go! Help me, people! I've posted twice in 24 hours. There are going to be two posts in one email subscription. Don't make me regret this. Do you have a refrigerator that you love? What is it and why do you love it? Or, on the other hand, do you know of one that is the spawn of the devil and should avoided like the plague?

Moving Update: HORROR!

The packers are done. (I've had my toothbrush in my possession the entire time. I can guarantee that no one but me has touched it.)

The movers come to load tomorrow. If they get the trucks (I just said, truckS. Remember when we were in college and everything we owned would fit in a couple of cars - a U-Haul, at the most, if we had a few pieces of our parents' furniture in our possession?) loaded by 1:00 tomorrow, they'll head on up and unload us. If it takes longer, they'll take off first thing Wednesday.

Amarillo by Morning...

Anyway, Shawn was giving me the run-down of the services that will be turned on and when*. And, he told me... Ok, people, stop reading. You should sit for this. And, I need you to be strong... internet will be turned on on the... we can get through this together... 29th. *gasp*

I don't care what my parenting-expert friend Jamie says, I don't see anything wrong with leaving the kids alone while I go to Starbucks and use their wi-fi. She's just being overprotective. She has no idea how mature my seven-year-old is.

*He keeps giving me phone numbers in case I need to change the times of the appointments. Ummm, babe? I think I know three people up there. My calendar is pretty open.

If Someone Comes Across My Sanity, Please Don't Wait to Return It

I ran around the store the other day with my heart in my throat trying to figure out where I had set my purse. I had left it in the car. Things are not looking well for my mental health. (No one really expected that I could handle the holidays and moving and still keep my %&!* together, did they?!)

                                                                                   

And. Um. Wow. Guess what I forgot to tell you? I was a Parent of the Week over on my friend Jamie's parenting blog, Avant Garde Parenting - BACK IN NOVEMBER. Don't worry - there are no "good-parent requirements" to be given this honor, so you don't have to question her judgement. It's probably something along the lines of a teacher encouraging the "bad kid" to try to reinforce positive behavior. (I'm right, aren't I, Jamie? ;)

Jamie really is an honest-to-goodness, card-carrying parenting expert (i.e., she has a PhD - I know, right?!). And, yet, she's still down-to-earth, honest, friendly and funny. Parents of the world - read this blog! Her dissertation was on how moms raised their wee ones in order to have teenagers that didn't need to be euthanized could "1. Communicate effectively with them and 2. Display independence in the relationship." (Again. I know, right?! I wonder if she'll let me have her cell phone number?)

In all seriousness, AGP has made me a better parent and given me tools I didn't even know I was missing in my parenting arsenal. I can rarely make a comment on her blog, though, because I'm seldom thinking, "Let me tell you about a time I successfully employed that technique." I'm usually thinking, "Holy crap! That's a great idea!" And, it would just get old if I commented that time after time after time after time.

Much love to you, Jamie!

                                                                                   

In moving news:

Our friends keep trying to love us with food. I have a cookie cake and half a sheet cake in my kitchen as I type.

Every. single. outing is becoming emotionally exhausting for Shawn and me. You never really know how many amazing friends you have until they are given a deadline to tell you. We come home and collapse, not just from the physical exhaustion of too many events and not enough sleep, but from the emotional exhaustion of being smothered with love. This weekend alone:

• Some of our friends gave us a going-away party. This was from where the cake came. It was actually our wedding cake. It's Shawn's favorite cake in the world (white cake with buttercream icing and imported, seedless raspberry jam between the layers). I get him one every year on his birthday. But, when one of the hostesses called to order the cake, she was told that the cake lady only made wedding cakes. Our friend managed to blurt out our names; to which she was told, "Oh. I make it special for them. I will make you one if it's for them." I. had. no. idea. This was one of about 362 things that almost made me cry that night.
• On Saturday we attended a Christmas Party. We got to hang out with some amazing friends that we haven't had nearly enough time to get to know. There may have come a point in the evening where we were hugging, declaring, "I love you, man!"
• Our Middle School/High School Sunday School class had a celebration for us (with cookie cake).
• And, the rector at our church called the four of us to the front yesterday during the service and gave us a blessing. That one almost did me in. I almost lied down on the floor of the church and told someone to come get me when the new house was unpacked.

Such amazing people. We are surrounded by such amazing people. And, the movers come on Friday.

Now. I'm off to push these feelings down with get some cake cookie cake cookie both.

Turning Over a New, Imperfect Leaf (Shut Up. It USED to be Perfect. Yes It Did.)

I'm tired. I try to post every weekday.

Lately. Life is busy. Busy. Busy. Good! But, busy.

So, I sit here at 11:45pm trying to get Wednesday's post in before it's too late. And, my eyes droop. And, my thoughts? Not coherent.

No post today.

So, sue me. I'm not perfect.*

*I just heard somewhere that you do children a disservice by allowing them to believe you're perfect. Then they think anything short of perfection is failure. So, see? I'm helping my children know that you don't have to be perfect to be worthwhile. (Not that I would let them read this blog... See? Thoughts. Not coherent.) Anyway... I'm going to take some coins back out of the therapy fund - and I'm going to buy myself something pretty. As a reward for being imperfect.

Blog Awards, Blog Etiquette and Mad Redheads

I was awarded The Cherry on Top blog award seven thousand weeks ago by Avant Garde Parenting (an unbelievably, down-to-earth parenting blog by a blogger that has also become my friend - we would so be "besties" in real life ;).

This came with the challenge to answer the question "If you had the chance to go back and change one thing in your life, would you and what would it be?"

Nope. Not a thing. Not because I think I've done it perfectly (hold on, let me stop laughing about that mere thought), but because every single moment has been in the plan God has for my life. Every single moment has made me just the person I am today with just the life I have today. Not perfect. Not by a long shot. But, perfect for me.

Then I was supposed to choose five other blogs to bestow this award upon...

Last week, my friend at Eat. Live. Laugh. and sometimes shop! (a great blog by my real-life friend that helps me find the awesomeness that is out in the world when you shop other places than Wal-Mart. I know! Who knew?!) awarded me the One Lovely Blog award.

This one I merely have to acknowledge and thank.

Thank you, thank you, my friend!

And, pay it forward to fifteen blogs... Um. Come again?! Fifteen?! I'm not even sure I know fifteen real-life people, much less fifteen "lovely" blogs. Ok. I kid. But, really?

I'm pretty convinced blog awards are the pleasant version of a chain letter (she gives it to five people... who give it to five more people... who give it to five more people... wait. Is that a chain letter or an STD? I think I'm off track... Oh, yeah. Blog Awards.)

To add to my conundrum, I was scared out of my rookie-blogger pants when I read that Redhead Ranting (I mean, come on! She's a redhead and she's ranting - that's scary enough in and of itself to make you pay attention...) detests blog awards and thinks it's just we newbie bloggers who keep perpetuating them.

So, I've come up with my personal solution for blog awards. I'm going to be flattered, honored and grateful when I receive them. (Someone's telling me I'm awesome? Rock on!) I'm going to complete the tasks they ask of me (within reason. Hear me now: I will not accept the "Eat a Roach" blog award). But, I think I'm just going to have to accept the seven years of bad luck (isn't that the punishment for breaking a chain letter?) for not passing them on.

I'm close enough to redhead to know, you don't want to make us mad.



UPDATE: Eat. Live. Laugh. and sometimes shop! solved the problem for me. She suggested an "Awards" page. See it up there at the top?

What a doll! She gives me a blog award, thereby boosting my self-esteem; and helps me figure out what to do with it so I don't have to work too hard, thereby enabling my naturally lazy nature. I love her.