It's all good...

Dinner Party

Last weekend my 11 year old was kind enough to tell me that I didn't have any friends here.   She's right of course.  But it hurt like crazy.   Even copious amounts of red wine didn't get the sting to go away....and left me with a headache. 

So in response to this very accurate assessment of my social life...I asked two other families to come over for dinner tonight. 

It's freaking hard to make friends when you're old.   I mean, not really old but older than about 6 when the whole world is your friend.   Okay, maybe 4.  

When we moved to Texas we were on our own but the Dude was working out of the house for a company that put on Spouse Dinners (they really did...) and sent the spouses (mostly wives) out to dinner together once a month.   It was a sneaky move to try and win favour with the spouses so they could work the employee to death.   You'd forgive the company for the extra long hours and for never seeing your spouse if they fed you a nice dinner once a month...right?    The side benefit was that it gave everyone a social life - kind of.   Because they'd imported many of the employees from all over the States and the world, we were all kind of a bunch of misfit toys lost in the world of beanless chili and using your garage as a family room.  

It worked fairly well.

Adding to that was that they'd brought in a group of Canadians all at around the same time and we clung to each other - conveniently enough we all had kids around the same ages so it worked very well. 

Since moving to NYS we don't have that same kind of support.   The Dude works from home so there's no office social life - we have each other but...

So...I picked two families whose kids get along with my kids and I'm putting on a dinner.    Hopefully this could make the leap from casual acquaintance to friends - there's the ever present risk of one side of the couples getting along better than the other side of the couple.  We've had a few hits and misses on that one - where the wives really like each other but the husbands have barely a word to say to each other.    My mother claims that as long as the women get along the men can always get along but I'm not so sure.  

Anyway, it was much easier when you could just ride  your bike up the street and hang with any kid who ventured out of their house...wasn't it?   At least you didn't have to spend a perfectly good Saturday cleaning the bathrooms. 

Yesterday

So I was standing in a store yesterday when I started to cry. I know exactly why I was crying but it still took me by surprise. Two weeks ago the past president of our PTA passed away. She had been ill with a brain tumour for the past year or so but the last I'd heard she was doing well.
I didn't really know her - I'd met her a few times and she seemed really nice. Her boys weren't in my kids' classes and so there was no connection there. But she was roughly my age with kids around my kids' ages. And she's gone.

Yesterday morning #3 got up early and went looking for me. He still gets scared if he has to get up in the night or if he has to go upstairs alone and he's so honest about it. He just flat out tells us that he's scared to go into the bathroom when the light is off - even if he can reach into the room and turn the light on. He's still scared. But I'm there. I'm there to go up with him or to turn that light on for him.

So in that store, looking at all of the pretty things it hit me that she isn't there. That those boys can't call out for her...or they can but she can't go to them.

And so I cried. Just because it's not right. It's beyond awful.

So I'm the weirdo in tears in the card shop yesterday. Except I'm not a weirdo. If ever there was something to cry about it's those boys without their mommy.

And so I will go to my kids when they need me. Because I can.

There's something wrong with me...

I'm not a shopper.  I don't spend time recreationally shopping - I have been known to do some revenge shopping.   I did that a lot when we first moved to Texas.   Angry and depressed about the whole thing led me to spend too much time at the Arboretum with #1 running around the cows and me hanging out in Pottery Barn.   I've also done some damage at Broadapalooza where it seems that the twin forces of estrogen and alcohol can make a person a little loopy.    But nothing does me in like Christmas. 

I don't buy toys for the kids on any regular basis - it's Christmas and Birthdays and not any other time of the year.  No random treat on a Tuesday in November.   Nothing.   So when I'm given permission by a giant holiday to shop for them I seem to go insane.   And the worst part if it is that you've got to squirrel your purchases away so I have no idea exactly what I've bought or if it's even or if one child is going to get the monster pile and the other is getting a tie rack.   (there's an old family story about my father getting just a tie rack for Christmas one year)  Christmas gives me the excuse to get them new clothes (they needed them anyway) new electronics (it's really for the whole family) and new games and toys (it's educational!)....and the books...don't let me loose in the bookstore.   It's not pretty.   

Tomorrow while they are in school (provided it's not a snow day) I am fishing everything thing out of the hidey holes and getting a visual on this excess.   Usually I don't do that until Christmas Eve and then I have to make sub-piles of what's being hidden again and saved until birthdays.   It's freakish.  It goes against my nature but I do it every year.  

As you know from my previous little rant

I've set up a twitter account.   I was going to write something funny about how weird twitter is but apparently that's not a new idea.   Twitter's not a new idea and writing about how weird it is isn't a new idea.    And anyway it's been done better than I could do it by   The Bloggess - she's not safe for work, she's not safe for school, I don't even think she's safe for prison so check around behind you for anyone who might be reading along.   It's way embarassing to have my six year old read off the screen out loud "Enlarge your penis"  and stuff like that.   You've been warned.  

Seriously Typepad...WTF?

Now I'm supposed to tell my blog what I'm doing and facebook what I'm doing and twitter what I'm doing when the truth of the matter is that I'm not doing anything.  I'm sitting on my fat arse watching my life go by.    That's what I'm doing.   Nothing.  Big. Bag. O. Nothing. 

And now Typepad wants me to do quick little quippy statements on what I'm doing - and link them to my other "social media" addictions.   It's not right. 

Okay, I admit that I joined facebook last summer - I was dragged there by the Dude's cousin's wife (well...they're not really married but she's the mother of his kids and they've been together for years so it's totally a solid relationship although she does still have her ex husband's last name hyphenated with her maiden name...talk about something that would send those people in Utah who want to make it a law that you have to take your husband's name when you get married...except they aren't actually married.   Well not in a church anyway.  Because a church would spontaneously combust if the Dude's cousin ever set foot in one...even the United Church of Canada which we know isn't a real church anyway because they are cool with people thinking and shit...) and I thought that it was kind of strange but I sort of got into it.   I don't play the games or send "flare" or anything but I like to see the pictures of my old high school friends' kids and note how many of us seem to be south of the border. And I joined twitter because one of those old high school friends made me "follow' Drew Carey so he'd give money to Livestrong (yes, you've seen me promote this before but I figure if I had to do it now you have to do it because you heard about it...it's like a virus..)   I find twitter really strange because it's so self centred.  It's just people saying whatever's in their heads and judging by the stuff on the livefeed there's not a whole lot in people's heads.   Plus they can't spell.  

And now...Typepad wants me to connect all of these dots...to have all of the pieces of my internet life connected.   And I say NO.   NO.   With all due respect Typepad..my real live family is on facebook.    The last thing I need is for them to come hang out here and start sticking up buttons and flowers and letting me know how thankful they are for everything. 

No.  Just no.  

My addictions must remain separate.   It's why chocolate beer is disgusting.  Because  you can't blend some things. 

Day 3 Without Supervision

The Dude went away and left me with the monsters for the week.   I'm trying to not just eat chips and dip all day while sitting right here in my pyjamas watching you tube clips of other people's cats...but it's harder than it looks.   The one with the cat who puts his head under the running tap?  Hilarious!  

So things I've done this week include...

1. Getting a dog license for Dodger.   He wandered off this weekend.   #1 let him out to pee and then went off to watch tv.  She came up at about 10am and asked me if he was in.   Usually when he's left outside he realizes that he's alone and goes the the door and knocks.   He actually knocks.  Either he didn't knock this time or he couldn't be heard over Spongebob Squarepants.  So he met a nice neighbour lady who concluded that he must be someone's dog and promptly called animal control.    He doesn't wear a tag because he's my first dog and I'm just figuring this stuff out.  Plus I hate how dogs jingle. The nice man at animal control brought him home and didn't charge me for it (note to Michelle...it's like a  $20 fine for an unlicensed dog here...)  So  I decided that I would make it legal and buy the license.   $7.    I guess it means he's staying.  

2. I bought cedar rails to replace the rotten ones on our cedar rail fence.   These cedar rail fences are useless decorative fences that are popular around here but don't actually keep anything out of anywhere.   It's posts with two holes in them and then you balance two long pieces of cedar in the holes.   Voila!   It's a decorative demarcation.   Until the deer hop the fence and knock them down.   Then it's just a pain in the arse.    But the cat likes to sharpen his claws on them so I mended the rotten ones.    Well, first I had to go off to Home Depot and man, are they bored on a Monday afternoon.   I must have been asked 8 times if they could help me.   I felt like a teenager in a corner store.    After deciding that I was actually going to try and work on this project I had a nice old gentleman help me load the 11 foot long rails into the car.    They hung out the back window in an elegant "we're just waiting for you to hit a bump so we can kill someone" kind of way.   The nice old gentleman asked if I wanted some white wine.   I said that I'd probably have a glass after I finished the project...turns out he asked if I wanted some light twine to tie up the rails. I wish they did sell wine.   Wine and power tools...that's a winning combo.  

It also turns out that the posts in our decorative fence are not uniformly spaced.   This will come as a huge surprise to those of you who are familiar with this house and the high, high quality of the workmanship that has gone into it over the years.    And we don't own an axe or a chainsaw.   So now I have several nice new rails that are too long to fit between the posts so one end is in the hole and the other is on the ground.   Next to the wine bottle.  

3. Project #3 was cleaning out the eavestroughs.   So I find the gas for the fancy blower thing (hate the blower thing but when we bought this place with its monster trees we figured we needed something bigger than a rake...big mistake)  and fill it up.   I get out the ladder and balance the fancy blower thing while climbing the ladder and then I have to find a good spot on the roof where I can hold it with my foot while pulling the make it goer cord thing.   I get it going for a bit and then it sputters and dies.   Like all things mechanical around here (or built since 1982) it's a piece of shit.   I resist the urge to throw it off the roof and then crawl around emptying the eavestroughs by hand.   I resist the urge to throw the blower thing at the two old ladies who are walking by and helpfully call out "don't fall off!" because if they hadn't called that out and I hadn't turned to look at them I wouldn't have lost my balance.    I didn't fall off but honestly!  

4. Project #4 is trying to get rid of an absolutely shittastic snowblower that the far too nice Dude bought from the neighbour lady.    The neighbour lady who sold us the house.   That should have been a clue that buying stuff from her was a bad, bad idea.   I'm sure she (and the homeowners) had no idea that the roof leaked...right into the kitchen sink... Not bitter, not bitter...moving on. So this POS comes home with him and it's a monster.   The first snowfall we find it doesn't work.  So it lives in the garage and prevents me from parking in the garage for two years.   I decide I have had enough of this thing and I'm going to sell it.   I put it on Craigslist - let's stop here and remind ourselves that I did not get us into this situation.   I did not walk into neighbour lady's garage and see her POS snowblower and still hand her $200 for it.    Had I gone to her garage and seen it...it would still be in her garage.    So after Craigslist did not turn up a buyer for this thing I turned to Freecycle.   I reasoned that anything that got the danged thing out of my garage and into someone else's was a win.    So now I'm emailing with a fellow who wants it but isn't sure it will fit into his trunk...I took some measurements and I'm thinking that it's not going to fit into any trunk.   And would I be able to help him lift it?    Uh...no...time to make friends with a strong guy who owns a pick up.    So the snowblower sits and waits for a new home.   Another task not quite accomplished. 

5. Project #6 is paying for my fingerprinting.   Now that I've finished the third and final exam to be a teacher in NYS I have to get fingerprinted - but before you can get fingerprinted, you must pay for it.   And then show a receipt.   And you can go online and fill out the form and pay for it.   If the page that you need to fill out is working.   Which it isn't.   But!  You can call and talk to someone about it.   If you get through the first time because there is no waiting on hold.  The message ends abruptly with "all of our agents are busy.  Goodbye."  after you've spent a few dollars trying to decide which button to push to actually get the information you need or to tell someone that their effing site is effed up.    So.  No fingerprinting.   

So that and a lot of laundry have filled the last 3 days unsupervised around here.    Who knows what trouble I'll get into tomorrow!

Because I have a lot of cleaning to do

I'm cleaning and prepping for a huge dinner tomorrow.   Thanksgiving!    Woot! 

I'm cooking two turkeys and I'm told it can be done although I know that I will screw it up...but there's lots of wine and my folks and sister are coming past the duty free so I'm guessing there will be plenty of beer as well.    Liquor always makes a family party go smoothly, doesn't it?   Doesn't it?  

So I'm passing this link on because I laughed so hard that I had tears rolling down my face.   It's NSFW - not safe for work - and you might want to shoo the children away or you're going to have some serious explaining to do about people with too much free time and access to knitting needles.   

Regretsy 

Happy Thanksgiving Y'all!

How You Doin'?

The Dude asked me how I was on Sunday afternoon and I said "fine"  

I meant it too.    I actually felt fine.   The last few months have been a bit of a nightmare - well, not really a nightmare but too busy and too stressful and too much.   I said I could do something that meant overextending myself.    You know that whole thing about riding a bike?   About how you never forget how to do something and that with a little practice it just comes right back for you?    It's somewhat not true. I mean, with lots and lots and lots of practice...it sort of comes back but the whole time you feel like you're on that bike and riding down Moffat's Hill without a helmet.   Just me?   Oh.  

You end up turning into a crazy freak who is so worried about this upcoming bike demo that you ruin your whole summer and tick off your friends who get sick of saying "everything is going to be just fine" and start to roll their eyes at you and are just as anxious as you are for the bike display to be over and for you to be able to talk about normal things again.    You become whiny and irritating and people start looking for ways to avoid you.   

And then you go for that bike ride.   And while it's definitely difficult and you're not enjoying it at all while it's happening, you don't fall and you don't crash and no one gets hurt.   

Talk about beating the hell out of an analogy, eh?  

So now it's over.  And I am fine.   It's like a monster weight has been lifted from my soul (but not my arse which suffered the stress eater's dilemma through it all).  

 All that's left is the laundry. 

(and some pictures)

   

It's not even funny anymore

When we moved to western New York from Austin we didn't have a lot of time to look for a house.    The Dude and I made a whirlwind trip up over the Easter weekend and looked at 200 houses in three days.   We had no concept of exactly where we should buy or what neighbourhoods or schools were the best fit for us.    We'd done a little research and knew we wanted to be on the east side of the major city but other than that we were wide open to where we would live. 

It wasn't a great way to look for a house.   It left us with too much area to cover and too many choices.    It didn't help that the area we were leaving was in a slump and the area where we were moving was in a boom.   We've got that kind of timing. 

We couldn't find a place to live on that first trip although we did put in a few offers.    We moved up with no knowledge of where we'd land.   

We found this place the first day we went looking and while it has had its ups and downs (and leaks and drips and carcinogenic flooring) it's really a nice house on a nice street.  The only problem really is that there are no kids on the street.    These are good sized houses with big lots that would be perfect for soccer games or football games or tag games or neighbourhood hide and seek games...but there are no kids here.    Most of our neighbours moved here in the early 70s and are still here - except they're in Florida for most of the winter.  

Imagine my excitement when houses started to go on the market last year.   I thought that for sure we'd get families on our street.   Families with kids who would play with my kids so all of our playdates didn't have to be planned and wouldn't always require driving.   I dreamed of being able to just kick open the door and throw my kids out and they'd bike down to a friend's house and play.    Now that they're plenty big enough to do that kind of thing I so wanted it for them. 

So far in the last year 5 houses have sold on my street.  No kids.   Including the 5 bedroom house three doors down.   5 bedrooms...surely it would be a family that bought a 5 bedroom house.   Why would two people need 5 bedrooms?     The last two sold this summer - one house is 2400 sq ft and the other is 3400 sq ft. They were bought by nice couples....in their 60s.    In their freaking 60s.

Unless my kids learn to play shuffleboard they're not going to be able to play with the neighbours. 

The good news

The good news is that many of you will only have to listen to me bitch and moan about taking on more than I can handle for two more weeks.   After that the gig in San Francisco will be over and I will go back to being just normal stress woman rather than this giant ball of majorly stressed dear god make her stop complaining all the time and why did she even think of taking on this gig in the first place woman that I have been all summer.  

The good news is that school starts on Tuesday.    It starts when #1 has to get up at 6am to catch her bus at 6:40 and continues until #3 gets on his bus at 8:10 and #2 gets on his bus at 8:40....2 hours of getting people on buses.   Honest to Pete.   If this district had a brain they'd see what they're doing to people - how do you have that kind of morning and then go to work and try to function?   Um....but school starts on Tuesday and #3 will be in school full time this year....so there's that. 

The good news is that I had a major birthday and so far have not fallen apart.    There were moments when I thought I might.   When it occurred to me that we have lived here for 3 years and I don't actually have any friends who might come to a major birthday party if I were to throw one and that we still live too far for most of our friends or relatives to attend anything like that.   But I'm still alive....so that's nice.  

The good news is that we went van shopping last week.   And I was completely unable to pull the trigger on the van.   The thought of dropping that kind of cash even though we need the space and we could afford it had me wondering if we wouldn't be better off getting new windows for the house or making other changes rather than spending it on a van.   So...I'm still a freak I guess.