Made It Safely
2 days, 8 states, some 1,000+ miles . . . and I am in New York. Since I spent much of the last two days driving as hard as I could, isolated from the locations I was zooming through and immersed in musicals and "can you hear me now?" cell phone calls with friends, it's actually quite a bit of a culture shock to go from Alabama to New York -- the accents are quite different. I have
got to stop saying "y'all."
Brief observations, before Barnes & Noble closes and I have to go back to the lame hotel with no Internet access:
* I stayed in a skanky motel in Chilhowie, VA, last night that actually had a real live key to open the door. When was the last time you saw that?
*The restaurant attached to the hotel had a burger named "The Big Tom Survivor Burger." Seems he's the local hometown hero. Come to think of it, that explains a lot about the hotel.
*Truckers are hands down the best drivers on the road. Almost without exception, they are courteous and keep to their lane and stay out of your way when you want to go faster than they do. Very impressive.
*The worst drivers on the road are those who are towing U-Haul trailers. They are menaces, again, almost without exception. Stay far, far away from these people.
*The prettiest section was northwest Georgia, the little tiny corner of it that I crossed. Beautiful wildflowers along the highway.
*In
Joshilyn Jackson's Gods in Alabama, kudzu is almost a full-fledged character. Kudzu, for those of you don't know, is a horribly invasive vine that is taking over the South. When you drive through AL, GA, and TN, you can see it firsthand. It's amazing. Whole areas of vegetation are just covered in this broadleaf vine -- it turns shrubs into a lumpy blanket and trees are just draped with it, like tall creatures trying to pull themselves from this ooey, gooey swamp. I'd actually like to wax more poetic about this, but my brain is pretty fried. Suffice it to say, it's very eerie and strange, even in broad daylight.
That's all I can think of right now, and B&N's making closing-up noises. Tomorrow I get to walk through the house, and the closing is
actually set for Friday morning! I'm still waiting for the check to get there -- I hope nothing goes wrong with that. If it doesn't, we may have a house in 2 days!
Off to the Great Northeast!
Today I'm setting out on my solitary trek to New York to (hopefully) close on our new house. No, the closing isn't actually set yet, but we are crossing all our appendages hoping that it will be on Thursday or Friday. Think good thoughts both for me (2 11-hour days of driving) and Dave (5 days with the kids as single dad). I definitely think I got the better end of this deal.
Scenes from a Bookstore
We've spent two days not leaving the house, recovering from our vacation, and now we've slipped over the edge into cabin fever, so we decided to get the children
out of the
house. Now, many people might take their kids to a park or something, but since it's 3,000 degrees with 150% humidity here in Alabama, we opted for our favorite family outing: a bookstore.
Around here, we've got several giant bookstore chains from which to choose, and it usually comes down to Barnes & Noble or Books-A-Million. I know that as the bleeding heart, politically correct liberal, I should be frequenting small, independent, mom-and-pop bookstores, preferably ones with a large selection of queer and feminist literature, but I can't help it. I love Barnes & Noble. Everything about that store target-markets ME ME ME, from the Starbucks (oh yeah, slam me for that too, why don't you?) to the author-decorated tote bags to the hunter green and cherrywood decorating. I could spend ages in B&N, and frequently have. Dave and I have not infrequently gone there on date nights, even.
But Books-A-Million wins out when we've got the kids, because they've got this great Thomas train table, and Ian can entertain himself for minutes on end. Katie prefers B&N because they have a little stage and benches in their kids' section, and she enjoys pretending she's in a steeplechase and galloping up and down the aisles, jumping over furniture. Yes, I know, we're horrible parents. At least we try to keep the exuberance to a minimum, especially when there are other patrons around.
So BAM it was today, despite ardent lobbying from Katie, who whispered furiously into Ian's ear in the back seat of the van. And it worked -- we got out of the house, we found some great values on home improvement books (tiling and painting and bookcases) to foster our new endeavors with the house, and we spent
$100! How on earth we did that, I don't know -- especially since they were having a 20% off sale -- but we did it. And we can rationalize it by saying that at least it was probably less than we'd spend at an amusement park or something, and we do have lots of great, lasting books to show for it. Knowledge! How can you put a price on knowledge?!? Plus, I've still got half of a divine espresso brownie waiting for me to finish it. That's all the rationalization needed at certain times of the month.
There were two blogworthy moments at BAM. In the first, Katie and Ian were eating their
brownie bribes nutritious snacks in the cafe. Katie, for some reason, started singing the alphabet song.
Katie: A-B-C-D
Ian, piping up: E-F-G
K: H-I-J-K
I: Ella-emma-o-pee
K: Q-R-S
I: T-U-V
K: W-X
I: Oh, oh, oh.
Okay, so he fell down on that last part. But you have to understand, we've
never heard Ian sing the alphabet. He knows most of his letters, and has for a while, but when you ask him to sing almost any song, he just hums it. He never sings words to songs. I have no idea why not. Dave and I started at each other in amazement. Later, I tried to coax him to sing the alphabet song again by himself -- and he hummed it for me (perfect pitch, by the way, but no words). I asked him to sing the words, and he replied, "Humming
is the words." Stubborn.
The other exchange didn't involve my kids. I was scanning the fiction section looking for a paperback that was engaging, but light enough to take on my trip to NY to close on the house this week (fingers crossed, knock on wood). At the moment, my nightstand contains books on John Wilkes Booth and Lincoln -- not exactly light reading. Anyway, an elderly woman was discussing a book with a staff member who looked to be about college-age.
SM: It's a really good book. It's one of my favorites.
EW: What's it about?
(I snuck a glance -- it was
Animal Farm.)
SM: It's about this group of animals that get together and rise up and kick out the farmer and take over the farm, and then slowly they start to become more and more like the farmer.
Okay, so far so good, I said to myself as I eavesdropped. Then this:
SM: It's really an allegory of our political system.
BUZZ!! WRONG ANSWER!! And if you know me at all, you know I had to be obnoxious and intrude on the conversation.
Me: Um, actually it's an allegory about Communism.
SM: Well, true, but it's almost like what our political system is today. People complain about things and then turn into what they were complaining about.
Me: Yes, but Orwell wrote it about Communism -- that's the main thrust of the book. (To EW) You'll like it, really.
EW: It's not for me, it's on my granddaughter's reading list for school. (Running away with a "Get me out of here" look on her face.)
The staff member then tried to engage me in a political discussion, but I've learned my lesson about doing that down here. Very bizarre.
As I checked out, I found an abandoned copy of
Animal Farm at the register. Gee, I hope I didn't have anything to do with that.
They're Trying to Drive Me CRAZY, Aren't They?
So the house closing in NY was supposed to happen "on or about" June 15. For those of you not familiar with NY real estate peculiarities, let me just tell you that it is absolutely impossible to pin anyone related to the closing down and make them give you an actual date that the closing will occur. Never mind that you have to get yourself from or to another state, or that you have to arrange for childcare, or that your belongings are IN TRANSIT and need a place to land, or that you have a job or anything -- "on or about" means "we really have no earthly idea until magically, by some sort of divine intervention, all the relevant parties appear in the same location at the same time."
This is the third time we've been through this. The first time we were moving from VA and had no kids and two cats. I don't remember how stressful it was, because we sort of had nothing but time. I do remember that Dave and I drove up together from NY and closed on the house, then I left him there and returned to VA to work for another month, upon which he flew down and we drove up together in my car.
Last year, we made plans to move by the closing date because, you know, we thought the closing might actually happen on that day, and then when it didn't, we had to scramble for alternatives. We ended up imposing on a friend of mine and giving her power of attorney so that she could close for us a couple of days later, because we had to get on the road in order to make it to the closing in AL on time. Our attorney (the very epitome of a sleazy NY lawyer, but older) was incredulous that we had dared to make plans around the date -- I don't know how, but he apparently expected us to order up movers and load up the kids at a moment's notice.
Now we're dealing with NY again, and it's fun, fun, fun. As I said, closing was supposed to happen June 15. The only problem? The house wasn't actually finished yet. Big holes in the walls where the units were joined together, no blacktop on the driveway, carpets not installed, etc. So it didn't happen. So we gave them a couple of weeks to get it together, and went to my parents' for a break. Now we're back, and we were counting on closing next week (we
have to close by July 5, or we pay a $1200 penalty to the bank for going over our rate lock period). Today, I found out that the house didn't pass for the certificate of occupancy because it needs the carpets (still), a stove, and a concrete landing at the bottom of our steps from the deck. Oh, and the survey has to be fixed. The seller claims this can all be done by Monday, and that the CO will be available by Tuesday. Our current attorney isn't buying it, exactly, and the bank can't really go forward with scheduling the closing until they have the appraisal in hand (also done today).
The thing is, if this closing is happening on Thursday (which, crossing all our appendages, we think might happen), I have to leave on Monday. Preferably Monday morning, since I'll be driving approximately 10 hours that day. I begged our attorney (actually, his assistant) to move mountains to get this to happen on Thursday, and she's promised to try, but at the moment I'm left with not knowing until Monday morning (!) whether I should jump in the car and drive to NY. AAAAAAAA!!!!
It's just all icing on the cake of the uncertainty we've had to deal with over the last few months. I've never been very good at handing control over to anyone. And when I feel like I'm handing over control to
no one, well, just fit me for a straightjacket. As a result, I'm alternating between manically pulling things off walls to prep for hole-filling and paint touching-up, or slipping into an cocoon of obsessive denial in which I mess around on my computer or work on a puzzle for hours. I can't take it much longer, and I'm pretty sure Dave can't either, though he's being pretty good at reining any verbal reactions to my insanity.
Is this
ever going to be over?
...And We're Back
We have returned -- though not yet recovered -- from our 10-day trip from coast to coast and back again. Okay, okay, it was the south-to-the-north version (Gulf Coast to Lake Erie), but whaddaya want with two kids in tow? Some highlights of/observations from/advice that results from the trip.
1. Vans are awesome. We packed for this preliminary-to-the-move odyssey, and we didn't even come close to filling up half of our Toyota Sienna -- and that's even counting the giant inflatable bed we had to bring. It gives me hope that we won't be giving the vacuum cleaner away to the neighbors when the moving van's pulled away and we've forgotten all the little things that are still left in the house.
2. Vans are also awesome because they eliminate many of the road trip hazards I remember from my youth -- those of the "He's touching me! Well, she's on my side! Well, he's breathing my air!" variety.
3. Even awesome vans and tons of goodies to entertain the children will not prevent them from uttering "I'm booooored" approximately every 2.4 seconds. (This even applies to the 2-year-old, who doesn't even know what that means.)
4. Sirius radio is seriously cool. It is a pain to find clear FM stations for the FM transmitter to work all the time, but I may be able to solve that by using the tape adapter from my Lyra. It was especially cool to switch to the all-Elvis channel on our way to Graceland, and then find that that channel actually broadcasts from Graceland (well, duh!).
5. Graceland is not so much cool. I'm willing to grant that my perceptions may have been affected by sleep-deprivation-induced crankiness (the kids do NOT adapt to hotels as well as I think they will) and 90+ degree heat and crowds with a median age of 57, but even if conditions were optimal, I'm not sure I'd be very impressed. It looks like your well-off aunt's house -- lots of plush white carpeting and furniture and everything a little bit too fancy, but still small, boxy, out-of-date rooms. There is one room that has green shag carpeting on the ceiling. (Ian's comment: "That wug doesn't be-yong on the ceiling!")
5a. I was very tempted to buy a stuffed replica of Graceland, as it almost fit the criteria for my stuffed object collection. I find a great deal of irony (and I readily admit I may be the only one) in plush versions of inanimate objects -- I have a stuffed Eiffel Tower, a stuffed space shuttle, a stuffed Boston Trolley, and a stuffed Saturn (the planet, not the car). These amuse me greatly. Alas, the Gracelance, while sufficently stuffed, was not furry, so it failed the test.
6. The St. Louis Arch is just an amazing work of art. Every time I see it, I'm just stunned by its simplicity and elegance. I even enjoy the 2001-like little cages you ride up to get to the top.
7. St. Louis's
The Magic House is an incredible children's museum -- if you have kids and can get there, go! The exhibits were interesting, educational, and well-maintained. The kids loved racing from room to room, and they also enjoyed the 3-story high slide (that I even remember from when I went there about 25 years ago). I was the only one who would do the Van de Graaf generator (the thing that makes your hair stand up with static electricity) -- the children are a little bit chicken. I was really, really glad we ditched Memphis early enough to get to St. Louis to do this.
8. The Lincoln Presidential Museum was interesting, though we could have spent a little more time there, too. The multimedia shows they have were very well done. (Note to illustrate the difference between men and women: At the end of the stirring holographic Ghosts in the Library presentation, I turn to Dave, wiping away little tears. He looks at me excitedly and says, "I just figured out how they do that and why the window is at a 45-degree angle!") Again, the kids were a bit chicken -- apparently cannon fire isn't their favorite sound in the world.
8a. The absurd souvenir that I had to buy at the Lincoln Museum -- one of those pressed, elongated pennies with . . . LINCOLN'S HEAD ON IT!
9. My parents put up with a lot from us, including this whirlwind visit on very short notice. But they hosted us nicely, and accompanied us on all sort of outings, from a Wilton Tent Sale, to the mall to climb on the climbing structure, to
American Girl Place, to the Field Museum, to an Architectural Boat Tour of Chicago -- all in 4.5 days. We did a lot less sitting around the house than we have on previous visits. The kids must be getting older.
10. Katie got to visit American Girl Place and see their show and pick out a doll to pay for with the money she'd been saving. After much dithering, she picked Josefina, but only wanted to buy one accessory set. I couldn't figure this out -- we were there, she had $80 still, and I couldn't understand why she was kind of shutting down. A few days later, she told my mom that if she saved just a little bit more, she'd be able to buy Kaya as well. Ohhhh, now I get it. She's a hoarder.
11. AG Place may be the most estrogen-filled atmosphere in the world. Dave's threatening to invest in property in downtown Chicago to build GI Joe World across the street. It was very entertaining to eavesdrop on conversations between girls and their mothers.
Mother: If you buy the modern clothes upstairs, you can put them on your Molly doll whenever you want to.
10-year-old girl, aghast: No, you
can't do
that!12. If you're going to be motoring up and down the Chicago River on a boat for an hour and a half listening to descriptions of buildings on the day before the summer solstice and you're a pale redhead, you'd be wise to BRING SUNSCREEN. Remind me of this when I get skin cancer around my eye and cheek -- the spot that's blistering right now. This act of forgetfulness made me very, very unhappy.
13. Traffic in Chicago is nightmarish. We spent THREE HOURS driving home from AG Place on a Thursday afternoon, and that was leaving at 3:30.
14. The trip home was pretty uneventful, even though we spent longer periods in the car. I now think that we are going to be able to handle 6-hour stretches in the car during the move. Probably without killing the children. Although some well-timed stops at play places may help preserve our sanity. Do you think there's an online guide to those?
15. I've decided that there's a Starbucks on every corner -- until you're actually looking for them. I think I need some sort of GPS chip that will be implanted under my skin, so that I can be anywhere and just call a hotline that will give me directions to the nearest caffeine fix.
Well, that's long enough. As I said, we all survived, and that's the good thing. Now I hear Dave in the other room trying to explain what records are to the kids (I bought him a record player for Father's Day). I don't think I've ever felt so old in all my life.
The View, Obscured
Before I was just irked by
The View and the co-hosts' stance on breastfeeding. Now I'm downright pissed. They said on the show yesterday that they would be discussing the issue on today's show, when Barbara Walters could be there. I just finished watching. Not only didn't they discuss it on the show, but they didn't make any allusion to their
promise to discuss it. Clearly, they've realized that they're in trouble with this issue. I used to admire the show's bravery in taking on all kinds of topics. I'm extremely disappointed by this new development.
Oh, and can I just say that I love the new term "lactivist"? So much nicer than "nipple Nazi"!
EXPLODING FRUIT HEADS!!!
OK, I'm insulated from most commercials these days by my TiVo (I heart my TiVo more than I can say), but I just saw the worst, grossest, aimed-at-kids commercial ever. At first I didn't even know what it was advertising. It just showed two kids with gigantic fruit heads (watermelon and blue grapes, I think) -- think Fruit-of-the-Loom guys but with faces poking out of the fruit. And then the blue grape one SNEEZED BLUE ECTOPLASM ALL OVER THE ROOM.
I cannot begin to tell you how disgusting it was. GROSS, GROSS, GROSS!!! Am I the only one?
(It was for Fruit Gushers, by the way -- candy that even my children won't eat.)
Breastfeeding and Enjoying The View
Hey, you! Get your mind out of the gutter! This isn't about nursing voyeurism. It's about that TV show, you know, the one with five women who are each specially chosen to represent a demographic so that many people will watch? Actually, I like
The View, although I've never identified with the "right" persona. Meredith Vieira is probably most like me -- bold, with a big mouth, wrapped up in the Mommy thing -- but she's at least 10 years older than I. The young ones, first Lisa Ling and now Elisabeth Hasselbeck, have never really fit me. Even Elisabeth, whose new baby is closer in age to mine than Meredith's, doesn't suit me -- for starters, she's very conservative, both politically and personally. I have never met a woman of what I would consider my generation who still uses the phrase "down there" as a substitute for vagina. And that irks me. Why bother with
The Feminine Mystique et cetera if women still can't name their own body parts?
Anyway. I watched
The View today (around children galloping -- literally -- around an imaginary equestrian course complete with jumps made of pillows and boxes. Boy, I love the "horsey" phase of girlhood). Apparently there was a "nurse-in" yesterday outside ABC headquarters to protest the fact that last week Barbara Walters made disparaging comments about breastfeeding in public -- sorry, Star Jones, I mean she
allegedly made disparaging comments. (I happened to catch that episode, too -- BW was telling a story about how she was made uncomfortable by a woman nursing a baby in her row on an airplane.) The co-hosts seem so hurt that their remarks were taken badly, but I wasn't surprised at all.
In all the years I've been (intermittently) watching the show, whenever breastfeeding comes up, they make vaguely disparaging remarks. Meredith and Joy both say that they breastfed, but I think in each case it was for less than a year (I may be wrong about this), so any talk about extended nursing is immediately bashed. You can imagine how I feel about that, given that I nursed both my children for around 2 years each, and have known and respected many women who have gone as long or longer. Star is completely disgusted by the process in the same way my younger sister is and the same way a lot of people are before they actually
have a child. Elisabeth seemed to be so grossed out by the idea of it while she was pregnant that I'm really surprised she's doing it with her new baby. It's no wonder they're the target of this nurse-in -- yet they all seemed so surprised by it.
Now don't get me wrong. I do know that many women/families choose not to nurse. I do know that there are people who are uncomfortable with breastfeeding or who have difficulty, and with people I know personally, I am supportive of doing whatever gets you through the day without strangling your child. On the other hand, I am more than willing to offer advice, support, comfort, whatever to women who are struggling with breastfeeding, because I think it's the best way to feed your child. I'm also a big fan of laying it on the line: breastfeeding is not always easy, it's not often fun, and it doesn't equal a soft-focus cozy nursery moment every single time you sit down to nurse your child. For me, it meant toe-curling, hair-straightening pain for about 6 weeks for each kid; full/leaky breasts; not leaving my children for overnight until after they turned 2; and an awful lot of sitting on the couch wishing I was doing something --
anything -- else. But I still think it's the right thing to do, and I'm proud that I did it, and I'm glad that I was able to give that experience to my children.
Where
The View comes in is that they reflect and represent -- and I would argue, even influence -- the culture at large. For many, many people, breastfeeding is "icky." You should hear some of the tales out there of nursing moms being shunned or shamed or verbally dressed down in public. It's horrifying. And personally, if
The View is supposed to represent women and women's points of view, I'd like to see them be more encouraging. They say they are supportive of the right to breastfeed, but I don't think they "walk the talk" as much as they think they do. I know you can't necessarily change individuals' minds, but I'd like to see them understand that by putting their own vaguely negative opinions of breastfeeding out there, they are failing to be good role models of women who support other women.
I'm sorry that I'm not yet in New York. I think I would have gone into the City for the opportunity to support women in that nurse-in.
Back Among the Living
I sent off the manuscript I'd been working on last night, and I've returned to the land of engaged living (as opposed to the last few weeks where I've been staring at the screen in my office, often procrastinating). I actually missed my kids -- not just felt guilty that Dave was doing all the work, but missed doing things with them. But thankfully, that's all over, and now it's time to be Mommy again . . . and PACK.
Today I took the kids to a farmer's market and to a playground and actually played with them for the all of 20 minutes we could stand in the heat and the humidity. God, it's hot in the South in the summer! Found a cool park, though, so we may try to hit it again if it ever cools off -- or perhaps we'll go at 6 when the kids wake up.
And then this afternoon I attacked the coat closet and Katie's room with boxes. We actually weeded out quite a few coats and clothes for donation. (Woohoo! Every pound donated is another 35 cents saved! [Yes, really.]) And there were a surprising number of
pairs of gloves found. Then Katie allowed me to pack up all of her My Little Ponies except four (yes, really). And we filled two book boxes with her books, and there's still about a box and a half more. I remember when I was little knowing kids who didn't have any books at all -- we seem to have gone overboard the other direction.
Anyway, it's progress. We haven't quite reached the panic stage of shoving everything into boxes willy nilly yet, but if we don't make some more progress, I can see it coming. But it's our only job for the next week and a half or so, so I think we can probably do it.
Since my "fans" (hi, Deb) are asking for a moving update, I figured I should blog about it. I think we've finally worked our way through Plans A, B, and C, and arrived at about Plan X, which may be a winner. The problem with not having one house sold is that there are no deadlines for anything -- you don't have to be out by a certain date, so you can put off the unpleasantness of moving for longer. But our house in NY is supposed to close June 16 (in NY, for some reason, no one wants to admit that they're actually closing until about 28 minutes until they actually do -- I think it's because of the Mafia, but I'm not sure), and
somebody's got to be there to sign for the darn thing. And there are two cars, two kids, and two cats to be driven 22 hours away.
Anyway, the plan of the day is that on the 13th, I will be driving Dave's car to NY in about 2.5 days, alone. I'm stocking up on CDs and bringing the Sirius radio along. I'll also have my cell, so if anyone wants to be my virtual road trip buddy and chat with me as the miles roll away, just say the word. On the 15th, I'll do a walkthrough, and on the 16th, I'll close. Then on the 17th, I'll leave Dave's car at the house along with whatever belongings we've managed to squeeze into a Saturn SC2 (I'm thinking it will mostly be guitars), and fly back to AL. About a week later, we'll finish up the packing and load everything into the moving van and head out as a family. Two kids and two cats and two of us, driving about 6 hours a day for four days. Thank God we bought the in-car TV/DVD player
before Dave got laid off.
It sounds like a plan. And I think it's better than any of the other alternatives, which included things like driving up in two cars with one adult, one kid, and one cat each in them, stopping to switch whatever entity was driving us crazy. Of course, I'm not the one who's staying home alone with the kids for five days. And it could all be thrown off if for some reason the house isn't going to actually close.
Uncertainty. It's becoming a close family friend.
P.S.
EVERYONE is at
Book Expo America except me. And I'm pouting. Next year, as God is my witness!
Discombobulated by a "Driveby"
This morning I checked my e-mail, as usual, and in my "junk" account, I see an anonymous comment to my blog . . . from Scott Bryk, who found me via
this entry and left a comment. So it's not so anonymous, but it is absolutely impossible to e-mail him back. So hey there, Scott, how's it going? Yes, I'm the grown-up version of Jennifer Dockstader, erstwhile nerdy red-haired girl who lived in Nebraska, Texas, California, Oklahoma, Virginia -- not necessarily in that order (I put this in in case someone's searching for me :). I don't remember the retainer clicking of which you speak, but I do remember other things -- like yearbook in Mr. Davies' classroom with Mr. Begay, Peter, Angela, and Nikki. It was our own little Breakfast Club. I remember being traumatized by your reaction to the
Challenger disaster, and you and Peter pulling wings off of flies in English class. Gee, aren't those pleasant memories? But I also remember thinking you were a pretty cool guy, and maybe having a little crush on you back in the day. If you want to drop me a line that I can actually
reply to, try widget (at) jmeditorial.com.
My memory for things that happened to me before college is just horrible. I know people can remember kids they went to preschool with, but for me, I have only a smattering of elementary school memories. Junior high and high school are a little stronger, but I have a terrible memory for names and faces -- perhaps because I got to know so many people over the course of my childhood. I go over to classmates.com and peruse the names there sometimes, and I think to myself, "Yes, that name sounds familiar," but then I can never put a face with it (and I'm too cheap to actually pay for it). Plus, there are few people I really want to get back in touch with. I attended the high school I graduated from in Folsom, CA, only two years, and only made a few close friends. I'd probably go attend a reunion if it were at all convenient, but I imagine there'd be a whole lot of people there that I had no memory of.
Sometimes I think it's sad that I haven't managed to maintain friendships from my childhood. And then I think I'm probably better off. Even my longest friendships from college, though I cherish them dearly, come with baggage on both sides -- we've all done and said things that the other doesn't forget, and let's face it, when you're 16, you do and say some stupid things that even
you forget about later. Still, I do find myself wondering what's become of people I used to know, just because I was part of their daily circle at one time, and I wish them well and am curious to find out how they turned out.
So if you do Google me because you knew me long, long ago, leave me a note -- but give me an e-mail address too!!
Laundry Day Success!
Five loads of laundry, including all kids' clothes, my clothes, and all sheets and towels, washed and dried, all in the same day! YESSSSSS!!
What's that? They should be folded, too? Oh . . .
Laundry Day
Did you know that having only three school uniforms for your daughter (because they cost three times what normal clothes cost) forces you to be on a regimen of doing laundry twice a week? And that when school is out, you can easily go a week and a half
without doing laundry before you get fed up and decide to wash everything in the house?
I just walked around the corner to find Ian wearing an orange Tigger T-shirt (hand-me-down from the Disney-obsessed in-laws) and red plaid shorts. "
What are you wearing?" I laughed. Dave replied, "It's laundry day." "I see," I said.
And Ian threw out his arms and caroled, "I'm Yaund-ee Day Boy!!"
Indeed.
