Goodbye!

Well, it's official!

I've decided to do my blogging at WordPress now.

Same old blog, slightly different address....so if you've linked me, could you update your links to my Wordpress page now? Thanks!

Everyone else....just move right along!

Trying out something new..

...okay, I'm jumping on the bandwagon. All the cool kids are picking up and moving over to the Wordpress neighborhood, so I'm checking out some new digs.

Really though, what it comes down to is being able to print my blog (way back when I explained this..you know, Hubby's grandma and her journals and how I want to leave behind something for me kids to read and laugh about after I die, yada yada yada). I found out blogger doesn't work with companies that want to print and bind your blog, like all the others do.

Plus, I like 3 column templates. And I don't really "get" code. I'm sick of this vomit green hackjob that I've been stuck with.

So check out my wordpress page and tell me what you think. Should I stick with Blogger, or make the move?

(None of my links are over there yet, don't take it personally!)

What to do with this hair?!?

Alright, so I'm trying to grow it out. Growing your hair out is never easy. It's just not. And it goes through all these awkward "I don't know what to do with this" stages. Which is where I am now.

Thursday night I had the tv on (because I was actually watching 30 Rock and Scrubs) and this show came on...now, I've never been a big Posh Spice fan (sorry, you can put out all the upscale lines of clothing and act as snooty as you want, but once you've done something like the Spice Girls, your name will always be Posh...and that's not a good thing, just in case you weren't sure).

But I do love her hair. I think it's really cute....and unfortunately very trendy. I usually don't "do" trendy hair....but I really like it. And I read up on the internet and it's rated "easy to take care of" which is really important to me....since I don't have a stylist to follow me around while I strike random poses around my house like Mrs. Posh does.

Since my hair was already such an "I don't know what to do with it" wreck. I trimmed up the sides a little so it looked cleaner and a little more angled down like I want it to me. I thought it was an improvement.

The hubby barely noticed (he did have quite a day...which I'll probably blog about because I doubt he will) and when I showed him the pictures of how I want it to look eventually he gave me a look like I was insane (or stupid) and said "but her hair is a lot longer than yours".

Yeah it is genius. That's why I'm growing it out.

Jordan's comments were, "I don't like that tattoo. And you don't have blond hair".

I have no support around here.

I hate gum...

So does my husband. He hates it because he thinks it's a choking hazard. I hate it because it's nasty.

I think it started with the friend I had in high school. She had two habits that I just didn't understand: falling asleep with gum in her mouth, and forming attachments to random objects.

At least once a month she would call me crying, frantic because she had once again fallen asleep with gum in her mouth....and when she woke up the gum was all over the precious object of the week....the one she couldn't sleep or live without.

I don't know where her mom was in during all these gum fiascos. Maybe she was just as grossed out as I was and had previously washed her hands of the whole deal. But for whatever reason, I ended up being the go to person in removing gum.

And I hated it. It was nasty. And I don't care how long your freeze it, how much peanut butter you use, or what other miracle method you find....you can never truly remove gum from a teddy bear, a boyfriend's sweatshirt, or wubby. Why a 16 year old girl still needed a wubby was beyond me....but she still slept with it even after we couldn't get the gum off!

So when my oldest child went to school, and people started giving him gum....I was thoroughly grossed out. I don't like to hear the stuff being chewed. What's worse.....when you're done with it.....you have to do something with it. You have to spit it out.

Let's get one thing straight. I don't spit. Ever. Yuck. I don't like to watch people spit. Just seeing it is enough to make me gag.

So when my kids spits out gum, I want nothing to do with it.

I don't want anything to do with it when I find it on the floor BESIDE the trash.

I certainly don't want anything to do with it when I find it stuck to the wall. (to learn that it was stuck to the wall because DAD told him to put it there so they wouldn't have to pause the xbox to throw is away made steam come out my ears).

And I don't want anything to do with it when my kid comes to me because someone gave him the bright idea to put his gum behind his ear. You know, in his hair? The hair he was growing out last year. That was the final straw. No more gum in my house. He can have it when he's 18 and he moves out.

I still can't get away from gum though. On a recent outing with friends....the friends had brought along some bug spray for everyone to use at dusk. She pulled the bottle out of the bag and discovered her little girl had put her gum on the lid.....as a kind of holding spot for the gum. Everyone laughed and giggled as I retracted my outstretched hand and shied away from the contaminated spray.

It was rude, and I'm sorry.

But I can't help it.

I really hate gum.

And the Walls Came Tumblin' Down...

Ugh. If it's not one thing it's another around here.

I simply can not keep up with the deficit of home improvements that we've gotten behind on around here.

I had totally planned to start remodeling my kitchen (as soon as I finish the downstairs bath. If I ever finish the downstairs bath). It's ugly. Real ugly.

But in my massive frantic attempt to try and get my house to look like....well....a nice house....if was trying to scrub our old, faded shower surround back to white (not going to happen) and noticed something. Something bad. The shower surround is not quite bug enough. And the edges of the wall near the shower that get damp every time someone showers...well, they've started rotting away.

What the crap am I supposed to do about that? Well, I know what I'm supposed to do...I'm supposed to fix it. But WHEN am I supposed to do that? I can't even finish the bathroom I am working on! I spend an hour scraping dried grout off the shower floor tiles (I'm sure I've ranted about that somewhere.....but if I haven't let me just say, PLEASE, if you're going to tile anything, start wiping the grout off right away. Do not wait. It's bad.) until I had blisters all over my hands. It's getting there...but it's a very slow, frustrating project.

And I can't rip one bathroom up until I have the other completely functional.

Meanwhile, the wall slowly continues rotting away.

So I'm trying not to completely lose it....trying NOT to think about the boiler that needs replaced, the shingles that have blown off the roof. The gutters that need cleaned (and repaired). The window in the basement that is broken. The floors that are scratched and nicked. The yard that needs mown, the gardens that need weeded, the basement that is leaky, the paint that needs touched up in almost EVERY room, the gas log that won't work, and the fact that every single closet is a disaster that needs cleaned and re-organized.

Today, I'm just going to try and concentrate on removing the coupon that Celia shellacked to the floor with milk last week (so everyone will stop walking in the door and trying to pick it up. Don't you think if I could pick it up, I would?)...scrape some more grout, and try and complete the 40 or so reports that I'm already behind on this week.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game!

I've got to say, when Chris came home work last week with tickets to see the Charleston Power....I though he was off his rocker. I'm sorry, but a 2 year old at a baseball game sounds insane to me.

But I was surprised.....we actually had a very pleasant evening!

We had a ton of extra tickets....which I gave away to some very happy people before we went into the park. I love giving stuff away!

The park itself is new....and very nice! We found our seats (Chris insisted on sitting right on the 3rd base line.) I decided to go get food and drinks for everyone....I'm better at carrying precariously balanced trays of food. Chris is better at keeping baseballs from bashing the baby's face in. So that deal worked for everyone.

Since the only thing I know about baseball is that you're supposed to eat peanuts and CrackerJacks....that's what we got.

They also had frozen lemonade....which sounded great o me. Turned out, it was better than I could have ever expected. Celia was engrossed in eating her lemonade for AT LEAST 45 minutes. It was awesome.


Really, I need to learn to make this at home.


I could get a lot more stuff done if she had frozen lemonade all day.


She did get a little restless near the end, but I took her up to walk her around the walkway. She thought that was cool....and everyone thought she was cute. Since it was Friday the 13th, the park promotion was for the kids to come in costume and trick or treat on the field after the game. So she was wearing her Mermaid costume.

The trick or treat thing was almost a disaster. The kids all had to have pre-registered and had a special ticket! (They didn't put that anywhere on the website!) There were lots of angry parents, but since Celia and I had found the fan services area during our walk, we all just went over there, a lady gave us some tickets, and off the kids went to get candy.

After that, there were fireworks. We were mildly concerned....since Celia spend all of the 4th of July in the house avoiding fireworks, but she actually did really well. Buried her head in Chris's neck for the loud parts, but no crying at all ("Hey, there's no crying in baseball!" I know, the game was over, but I just had to say it!)

Adventures in Charleston...

This is the first of my three part blogging about our weekend. It's way too much to fit in a single post! At least with the time constraints I'm currently operating under!

So last week the hubby comes home with pile of tickets to a baseball game. The Charleston Power (minor league) and we started planning a trip. His company leases a rarely used apartment in town, so his boss gave him the keys and off we went.

About halfway there he says "Oh, I'm pretty sure the AC in the apartment won't be working....Boss had to call maintenance because there was a problem with it". Oh. Okay....well, it's not that hot anyway. Should be fine. "And I'm not sure that the cleaners have been in. Boss had his assistant call because he was worried that they hadn't been there in awhile". Erm...that's another story. But really, no one stays there. It's vacant most of the time. How bad could it be?

Well, first thing I did was check the sheets. No way am I sleeping on sheets that someone I don't know has slept on. They look....wrinkly. And they don't smell like fabric softener. So we rip those puppies off the bed and try to fit them in the teeny tiny washing machine. One. sheet. at. a time.

Now, keep in mind that my in-laws were joining us on this adventure. Since I have kids....my standards of cleanliness are lowered. I mean, my house isn't filthy...but there's usually stuff out and you can often find crumbs in one room or another. My mother in law....well, she hasn't had kids in the house for many years. Her house is always spotless (well, unless my kids are visiting to crumb it up...but even then it stays pretty clean). Therefore....if I'm appalled by the filth of the place.....you can guess that she's going to be WAY grossed out.

Being brave (and having to pee) I peeked in a bathroom, screamed "HOLY CATS" and ran the other way. It was bad. Real bad.

I became crystal clear that the cleaning service had indeed totally punked out on their duties...and I really hope the Boss hadn't been paying someone to clean....because if so, he was getting majorly ripped off.

Hubby thought I was over-reacting, so I sent him in to check things out. He starts explaining that the Charleston water is bad (ha, compared to Fairmont?) and peeks around the door. He shrieks his manly version of "HOLY CATS" and also runs the other way.

I brandished a toilet scrubber at him and sent him back in. I think he scrubbed the tub with it first. It was that bad.

So the two of us cleaned like mad people to get it looking some kind of livable before the in-laws showed up (though honestly, it was still pretty bad when they got there) and I made a mad dash to the mall (did I mention Celia peed through her PullUp while napping on the way down....and I'm so bright I only packed dresses instead of more pants).

I went out just in time to meet the in-laws, apologise in advance for the stench of the hallway (the neighbors had their garbage out there!!! What kind of crap is that?) and the over all condition of the apartment.....and have a discussion with the lady that apparently lives downstairs about over what MIGHT be dripping in her apartment. I don't know lady, I've been here for 15 minutes. Call maintenance, will ya?

So, mad dash to the mall. Luckily, I walked in the door of Macy's and found super sale. I grabbed some pants (and a cute Hello Kitty shirt.....sorry, but the pants didn't match the ones she had on. I had to do it!) and ran to the only open checkout on that floor.

Which was staffed by a 92 year old woman. Who was methodically slow about , removing from hangers, checking for sensors, folding, wrapping in paper, and bagging each of the 92 items the lady in front of me was buying (not that I blame her, it was a great sale!).

20 minutes later....mad dash back to the apartment, dump the girl in her new clothes (which she proclaims "beautiful"...thank you baby) and we're off to the baseball game! (More on the game later)

We didn't get back until very, very late. Part of the problem was that we needed milk. You can't buy milk in downtown Charleston at midnight. You just can't. We had to drive all the way down Kanawa Blvd to an Exxon where someone handed me milk though a pull out drawer. The hubby wouldn't even get out of the car because he was convince someone out "bust a cap at him". I reminded him that as an uptight, white yuppie.....he should just say "shoot me" to avoid sounding like an idiot.

So the next day we had a leisurely breakfast at Starbucks, had some fun in the city (more on that later too) and headed back to the apartment for a cleaning spree.

It took Chris and I about an hour and a half to get that apartment spic and span, sparkly clean. I started thinking about getting a smaller place then and there. No WAY could we do that to our house!!!

Once we had it all clean....boy it looked nice. Classy. The Boss has really good taste in furniture. No clutter anywhere.

So I came home from a very nice trip with an unhealthy case of envy and a desperate need to throw out ever piece of clutter in my life, to deep clean and re-organize every shelf, closet, nook, and cranny in my home.

See you in November.....


P.S. On the way home, we stopped for gas and Chris fell over himself trying to get away from this dead bug. Then he fell all over himself trying to gross me out with it. Please , please, please, for the love of all things good and pure, tell me that this thing was a stow away from Florida and arrived in our state already dead or something. If we have bugs like this here in my pleasant mountain home......I may have to move.