Some Things On My Mind

Wow. I’m the suck at updating. I don’t think this is a real shock to anyone any longer, so I won’t pretend. I also won’t make any sure-to-broken new years resolutions about posting more frequently, but I will do my best in the coming months. So here are some things I’ve been thinking about, in list form since they are all over the place and I don’t really feel like creating linking sentences to make this post coherent.


1. I really hope he doesn’t make me eat my words but so far I’m kind of pro-Mike Leach in this whole Texas Tech debacle. I seriously doubt either side’s version of the story is 100% accurate, but I like the eccentric Leach and for whatever reason its easier for me to believe that Craig James is a whiney, over bearing parent than to believe that Mike Leach is torturing his players. I’m sure my own prejudices are coming in to play here but whatevs. I think I’m mainly annoyed that Leach was immediately punished, based on the story of a player with a well connected father. If Craig James was a farmer from Nowheresville, Texas would the university have acted so swiftly? I don’t think so but maybe I’ve just gotten cynical since my last post. Please don’t prove me wrong Coach Leach.

2. Speaking of eating your words. (eeek! I can't help myself with the linking sentences) When the reports of the Tiger Woods traffic accident very first came out, I was at the office and all the guys on the floor immediately jumped on the “rumors” of what else was going on, and his wife beat him with a golf club, and affairs, and scandalous text messages, and blah blah blah. And I snickered and said ‘you guys would believe anything…It’s Tiger Woods, he wouldn’t be that stupid.’ In my defense, this was in the first few hours of the media frenzy but still, I don’t know who was more stupid…me or Tiger. HmmmmmmTiger. Definitely Tiger.

3. Christmas was very good to me. The HSH and I enjoyed our first Christmas morning in our house. I blasted Christmas carols through the house, made pancakes, drank mimosas and broke Martinez family tradition by not getting showered and dressed in between stockings and presents. Yes, I opened my regular presents while still in my PJ’s. (Somewhere my Mom is fainting.) We then went on to a fantastic meal with the Texas branch of the family and I loved watching niece's 1 & 3 open their presents.

4. The Hawaii branch of the family and the Houston branch of the family opened some presents together “virtually” on Skype (none of us were in PJ's though). I would have preferred if we could have all been together, specifically in Hawaii, but it was better than nothing. Niece 4 was pretty uninterested, but we managed to keep Niece 2’s attention for longer than anticipated. All in all though, I really missed all of them and decided being an adult (and having to work on Christmas Eve, thus preventing you from taking exotic Christmas vacations) is sometimes the suck.

5. Speaking of branches of my family, there is like 99% chance that Niece 1 and Niece 3, as well as their parents SIL-B and BIL, are moving to Australia. And no, unlike Paris (where some people think we need to be specific as to whether we are talking about Paris, France or Paris, Texas) there is no Australia, Texas that I know of. I mean the Australia on the other side of the world. No hyperbole required. And because the world is all about me, I’d like to point out this means that the time difference between me and all my nieces combined will be 40 hours. Don’t ask about my math, just trust me. All kidding aside, even though I am very very very sad to be so far apart from them, I am very very very very excited for the great adventure that is in store for the girls, SIL-B and BIL. And since that is one more “very” for the excitement than for the sadness, I guess I’m not as selfish as I thought. So I have that going for me.

6. And just because this post is now kind of striking me as dreary, here is a funny, albeit blurry, picture of me in my new Snuggy (thanks AKL). Ripken thinks the Snuggy makes me extra snuggy.

Table Talk

Everyone here in Houston is all a twitter about the weather outside. Yes, its frightful. (I went there. What?) But really I'm more excited about what's going on INSIDE. My house is all decorated for the holidays, and I'm pretty sure this is a new personal record for me. I am pleased with how it all turned out, but I seem to be incapable of taking any good pictures of it. I can't tell if i need a better camera, or if they don't look as good in reality as they do in my mind. Here is the one semi-ok picture I took of the tablescape on the dining room table (as opposed to the one in the kitchen).

Also here is a little peek at what the Thanksgiving table looked like, since I didn't post it earlier:

Off to wrap my pipes ...or whatever the heck you're supposed to do when it freezes.

A Note From The Peanut Gallery

I am not a parent. Nor do I profess to have any insight into what I think is probably one of the hardest jobs on the planet. Despite this, I found this article in Time to be really interesting. Since, as I stated, I don’t have kids, it was really some of the trends in older “children” that were the most shocking to me. This statement about made me fall out of my chair:

Employers like Ernst & Young were creating "parent packs" for recruits to give Mom and Dad, since they were involved in negotiating salary and benefits.

Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Several years ago, I heard some anecdotal evidence from friends who work in admissions offices at universities that parents were taking it to a new level. Phase one seemed to be mom/dad calling the university to check on the status of an application. I remember being in high school and being told by guidance counselors that any contact with the university should be handled by me, or else schools would think I wasn’t a responsible/capable young adult. Sure we consulted with our parents on what to say, questions to ask, advice etc. But that was really the time when you became your own spokesperson. But ok, kids these days…they are busy, you know? Maybe they just couldn’t get around to it. I'll let them have that one. Phase two wasn’t so much an escalation as it was rocket ship to space: parents calling professors directly to ask about projects and grades! Holy Hell! My parents were more likely to call the Pope than they were one of my professors! That blew my mind. But this?! Being involved in salary negotiations? This. … I mean. …. I don’t. … I mean. …

Nope. I’m at a loss for words.

Speaking of Not Timely

As long as I'm playing catch up, we had a fun Halloween season. First off we had the neighborhood parade. We had a pretty cute collection of kiddos. I had to take off early, so I didn't get a picture of everyone, but here are a couple:

We also had a Halloween dinner for some of the people from both of our offices. We all take turns hosting Grub Club, and I snagged a great date and got to use some cute Halloween ideas I shamelessly pilfered from one of my favorite sites.

The always evolving Halloween tablescape. This years addition was the large ostrich feathers in the vase.

This is pretty gruesome but it was too fun to pass up. It's just a simple syrup heated up to the "hard crack" stage, then the glass is dipped in it for the blood effect. We served our Pina Ghoul-adas in these.
Speaking of gross. These "eyeballs" are really lychee fruit stuffed with strawberry jam, and a blueberry. If you can get past the ick-factor, they are a pretty funny/yummy cocktail garnish.

Now that I've totally grossed you out. ..here is something a wee-bit more appetizing but still totally ripped off from someone else. The SIL-E's now famous Chocolate Bread Pudding. Overhead at the party: "I didn't even know i liked bread pudding!"

Clear Blue and 22 (Translation: It's a Beautiful Day)

This post is not in the least bit timely, but if I let that stop me, I would never blog at all!

Several weeks ago, Shannon (a.k.a. the person that’s known me since Christ was a corporal) came to visit.* The main purpose of the trip was a date with Bono. The side purpose was to prove to our husbands that we need to get on a regular schedule of visiting each other. Sadly The Barron of Blog was unable to join us, but I heard he was pretty jealous of all of our shenanigans. Highlights of the trip included but were not limited to:

1. Eating our way through Houston. Seriously people. Like I had to go back on Weight Watchers after she left. I’ve noticed that when I visit other people they plan fun outings at local attractions. My version of “fun outings at local attractions” is solely limited to taking out-of-towners on a tour of all my favorite places to eat in town. I’m not sure what this says about me or Houston, but I do know that it means I love hosting guests!

2. A really fantastic concert. I think anyone who has read this blog for any amount of time knows that I enjoy live music a LOT. I’ve seen all range of acts and feel like I typically get my money’s worth, one way or another. But this concert was really unparalleled. As far as bang for you buck goes, I felt like I wrung every dollars worth of enjoyment out of the price of admission. The staging, the song selection, the…well the everything. I know a lot of people feel like U2 is overhyped, but I really feel like even the most jaded of concert goers would have enjoyed this at some level.

Some of our concert group.

Part of the super cool stage. The lit panels expanded like an accordian.

When the panels were compressed they formed the video screen. Like I said, pretty freakin' cool.

3. Seeing Shannon really cut loose. I would say of the two of us, Shannon would be classified as the more reserved one (maybe?) but no one would have been able to tell it this trip. She really painted the town red, and I loved loved loved getting to witness it. Highlights within this classification include her helping herself to some Red Bull behind the bar, relentlessly hazing Schaife about his “skirt” drink and above all else, introducing her to the Marquis. For non-Houstonians, the Marquis is a bar which I have frequented on and off for the past 13 years (don’t do the math, Mom). I was catching up with someone who has been involved with Marquis for longer than I've been going there, and Shannon asked “Oh, how do you guys know each other?” Uhhhhh…from here, sweetie. I don’t think she was clear on exactly how much time I’ve spent there over the years. By the end of the night they were BFF.

All in all I would rate the trip a total success. I had a blast, and I’m pretty sure Shannon did to.


*my family uses a variety of vaguely military inspired sayings that I never think twice about, until I say them around people who have no idea what I’m talking about. This one is perhaps the strangest. It means a long time ago, in case that’s not obvious. As in, he’s the commander in chief now. As in…ok I’ll stop now. Other great expressions that I thought everyone used until I moved away from my family: Clear, Blue, and 22 (used to describe flying conditions…clear blue and you can see for 22 miles. It means the weather is perfect.) and The AO (area of operation). My dad used to use it like “we need to police the AO” which meant we had to clean up the area or “I’m going to scope out the AO” which meant he was going to go check something out.

Have you ever noticed how something can make perfect sense to you until you try to explain it? Yeah. I’m experiencing that right now.

Happy Owl-oween

It was arts and crafts night at our house last night. I found out the HSH had NEVER carved a pumpkin before, and even though this isn't traditional carving, its better than nothing. They look even cuter lit up, but i can't seem to get a good picture of that. I have lots of other pictures of good times recently had, but they are trapped on my camera. And by trapped I mean I'm too lazy to download them.

So in the mean time......

Rolllllllllllllllllllllll

My laziness has won over lately, and I haven’t written anything worthy of a bathroom wall lately, much less the blog. But after being, not so gently, prodded by KK and Mamma Vaughan here is a tasty little nugget, sure to make you chuckle:

I joined a bowling league.

Wow. There are 5 little words I never thought I’d say.

It all started earlier this summer when I went bowling with a group of friends for a birthday party. While there, someone henceforth known as Schaife, said something to the effect of “hey this is fun, why don’t we sign up to do it every Wednesday for 16 weeks!” And I, as I’m prone to do after several drinks, agreed wholeheartedly. (Side note: if you ever want someone to obligate themselves to do something utterly ridiculous just buy me a few drinks and I’m your huckleberry. Seriously, I was once convinced to walk 60 miles using this method.)

The action started last week, but I was already committed to some musical theater with AA (zing, zing, zing went my heartstrings….) so I missed the first week. Last night was my first night of “league play” and I was really intimidated. Don’t be fooled, the fact that I was invited to join this 4 person team had nothing to do with my skill and everything to do with my ‘what the hell else does she have to do on a Wednesday night’ factor. I might be a terror on the Wii bowling lanes, but I absolutely suck on the real ones. As if I wasn’t already worried about standing out in the league, my team rolled into the bowling alley in matching t-shirts. (See what I did there? Rolled…bowling alley... Seriously people, if I have to keep pointing these things out…) Complete with numbers and goofy nicknames on the back. I assumed everyone wore matching shirts. I was wrong. I knew this when I walked in and the gentlemen working behind the desk looked at me and my teammate and said “Well. That’s cute.” Its never good when you hear a man use the word “cute.”

Our league is a pretty interesting mix of people, and ages. Every team is made up of two guys and two girls, and the skill level was all over the place. You had people that were all about the accessories (I saw a clear ball with something unidentifiable suspended in it. I couldn’t tell what it was, but rest assured I will investigate and report back to you the next time I blog…which on my current schedule should be sometime in 2011). You had people that were all about the camaraderie (cheering for every strike and whatnot). And you certainly had your people that were all about the drinking. The team that we shared our lanes with fell in this last category. Play was frequently held up while they took shots or made a trip to the bar. This didn’t bother us, as we too like to partake in an adult beverage from time to time. Plus it made for some great comments as the night went on. Most notably, after seeing my name on the scoreboard one of my drunker opponents started singing “Signs, Signs everywhere there’s signs” when I bowled. Those that know my name, get it. Later on, I did some research and discovered it’s bad form to heckle while someone is “on approach” but apparently this guy didn’t get the memo. Of course I also learned it’s not kosher to change your shoes in the wood area of the lane, it should be done before you go down the steps. I didn’t get that particular memo. So apparently there is a whole circuit of memos that some of us are not copied on, including Miley Cyrus and a memo about stilettos. (Good luck getting that song out of your head.) Another one of my favorite etiquette rules? “Please don’t put more than two personal balls on the rack at a time.” I swear, sometimes I think I missed my calling as an 11 year old boy. I’m not alone in my immaturity though, because when we inquired about putting nicknames on the scoreboard we were told it was banned because it got out of control last year. Apparently bad puns and innuendo are nothing new in the bowling world.

So, I don’t know if you know this, but in league play you get a little warm up time. First ball I throw. Strike. Whhaaaaaaa? I know. I was shocked too. Of course, it was not at all indicative of the rest of my evening, but it was still pretty thrilling. Armed with that confidence I went on to bowl a 99, a 103 and a 113.

Hey, at least I’m trending in the right direction!

Look! It's Casper the Surfing Ghost!

Oh I know what I forgot...We went to Hawaii! Check that…we didn’t just go to Hawaii…we were Hawaii. For 7 glorious days we were sunshine, and luaus and sand and surf…and…and…are you ready to barf yet? Oh calm down, I haven’t left my usually snarky self behind. We were also hurricanes and cancelled fishing trips and poi. But mainly we were rainbows and butterflies. We had so much fun I cried big fat tears when we left. Shocking, I know. It might have had something to do with leaving these little faces behind:
But let's get on with the recap, shall we? The trip was really fabulous. Sure Hurricane Felicia served notice that apparently no matter where I go I’m under threat of having wonderful plans ruined by a hurricane…even if my destination hasn’t seen one in 17 years. Yes, 17. But luckily we mostly missed it and all that suffered was our planned fishing trip which was cancelled. Apparently Captain Rusty didn’t get the memo that we’re from Houston and we OWN hurricanes. Or we get owned by hurricanes? I can never keep that straight. Anyway, one big plan that did not get cancelled…surfing. The HSH and the HSB were suuuuper excited about this. The SIL-E was smart and came up with an excuse to stay and watch from the beach. Me? I pretended like I was suuuuuper excited, while simultaneously telling anyone who would listen that I would probably break my face. My strategy behind this was that if I didn’t break my face, I would seem like a surfing goddess and if I did…well, I warned you didn’t I?

I was surprised (read: not at all) that the HSH and the HSB took to surfing faster than an FBI agent going undercover to bust a band of surfing bank robbers.


Me? I was pretty close to achieving surfing goddess status, except for one minor detail…uhhhh, I don’t know if anyone knew this but you have to keep paddling out into the surf to catch waves. I had no idea how difficult this would be. I didn’t try to kid myself that I’m sort sort of crazy in shape person who would whiz on out there, but good lord. I thought I was going to die. And that was just on the first time out there, never mind all the subsequent times I had to return to catch another wave. At one point I was being lapped by a 17 year old kid who was also taking a lesson and thought he was being helpful by telling me ‘it helps if you cup your hands m’am’ Was that necessary kid? Sure I’m sucking wind like an 80 year old but did you really have to throw the m’am in there for emphasis?? Thanks jerk. I felt better when he totally wiped out on his next wave. Yeah, I’m that petty (and pale apparently). Anyway, I was proud of myself for sticking with it, despite my arms feeling like jelly after about 20 minutes. Oh who am I kidding? More like 5 minutes. I was also proud that our little group was the furthest out there, and I managed to tough it out and not prevent the boys from catching the ‘big’ waves. I had a great time, but I’m not going to lie…when our instructor, Chelsea, told us it was time to head in…I didn’t exactly start crying. Here is a picture of me cheering on the HSH--really just an excuse to rest my arms.
Afterwards we enjoyed mai tai’s at Duke’s…
Yes I know my visor is cockeyed. I couldn’t lift my arms above my head to fix it.

So Long Summer

Just because I wasn't blogging, doesn't mean I wasn't living! For your enjoyment here is a brief recap of the summer:

I celebrated the 4th of July with some of my littlest friends

We took niece#1 to the circus for the first time...
Where we made some big friends....

And some bendy ones...

"Holy cow Tia...is that natural?"
We celebrated T's bachelorette party...
and wedding...

Old friends came to visit...Wait. I know I'm forgetting something...

Progress

I haven’t blogged in a while. I’m not going to apologize because I’m not really all that sorry. I’m also not going to lie and claim that I’ve been busy, because I really haven’t been that busy. We have had a nice lazy, low key summer highlighted by a couple fun trips. I WILL commit to blogging about those in the coming week. Namely, Hawaii. We had a blast. One of us is really tan, the other is really burnt, and it is totally not in the order that most of you would probably guess! I need to download some pictures and then I will post about the whole thing. I’ll give you a preview: We had a blast. Oh wait, I already said that.

In the mean time, we are getting closer to getting the house just so. We still have a ways to go, but we did have a major development today. We got our long awaited dining room table! I am pretty fired up. It is this table from Pottery Barn. However we didn’t get it from Pottery Barn, we got it from this place for a fraction of the price. I was REALLY on the fence about it. We know lots of people that have ordered from this place before and for every one person who has had a great experience there is one that has had a nightmare one. In the end, my cheapness won out. I would rate our experience with them a 10 I suppose, if for no other reason than nothing went wrong. It was easy to pick out (I knew exactly what I wanted), ordering was painless, it was delivered pretty much exactly when they said it would be (the one negative was that it takes forever, but we were prepared for this by our previously mentioned friends and Chic told us as much up front), and it was in perfect shape when it was delivered.

Here is a picture of it in the room. It looks very naked to me with none of my usual tablescaping going on, but I’ll work on it and get back to you.

Mahalo!

My Passive Agressive Nature

Between a temperamental A/C (its been out twice more since the last post), a big snafu at the office, and a really overwhelming feeling of missing my family this week (I get like this when they are all in the same spot and I’m not there…made worse by the fact that they are in Hawaii and I’m in Hotson.) you’d think I have enough on my plate to not let something little get under my skin.

You’d be Wrong.

One of my new neighbors has college aged children who are home for the summer. And they are popular. I know this because they have a constant stream of SUV’s parked at their house. Only, they aren’t parked at their house. They are parked at my house. Always. Its not like there are 5 cars at any given time, and they are using the area in front of my house as overflow parking. Rather, its always one or two cars, and they insist on parking in front of my house, despite the fact that there are 30 yards of perfectly good, unused, curb space in front of the house they are visiting. For a while, I thought I was being irrational. I mean, does it really matter where they park? But the more I think about it, the more it needles at me. I mean, if they would just pull up a few feet, they would be in front of the correct house, but they refuse to do this. And its not just every once in a while. It's every day. Evvvverrrrryyy.

As much as it annoys me, it drives the HSH even crazier. He came home the other day and we had some visitors in our driveway, so he wanted to park in the street. Only he couldn’t because our neighbor’s guests had monopolized the space in front of our house. It wasn’t a big deal because the HSH just had to drive a few feet further down and park in front of their house, but that just made it worse to him! I mean, why couldn’t THEY park there, and leave our curb to us and OUR guests? I thought his head was going to pop off his neck.

So this all begs the question: What do we do about it? I know the mature thing to do is just say something to them. Find some way to politely ask them to please pull forward. But the thing is, I don’t know how to phrase it without sounding like a total bitch. The Rice2029 crew are firm proponents of the direct method (as our new neighbors, they have been monitoring the situation closely). Even little Emily is confused by the situation, asking me last time she was there "Is that your car Posies?" Jason (who also lives in the neighborhood and has noticed/commented on the situation) thinks I should leave a note. He is only saying this though so he can take a picture for one of our favorite websites. Other suggested solutions range from the mildly passive aggressive (parking there myself and hope they get the hint) to the downright hostile (I’m sure you can imagine). And trust me, everyone has a suggestion because everyone who has been to our house has noticed, and thinks its unusual. So its not just me, if you were wondering. I'm not sure what to do! I don't want to get off on the wrong foot with my new neighbors, especially since they seem super nice in every other regard, but this is really driving me batty!

So what do you guys think? Should I say something? Should I just suffer in silence (yes, this is my version of silence) and hope the problem fixes itself eventually? Should I start leaving nails and glass in the gutter in the middle of the night? Guide me wise ones. (And no, the nails/glass thing is not really on the table as an eligible solution.)


And just because I haven’t had pictures in my posts lately, and everyone knows what a drag that is, here is a cute one of Rip. He always parks his car in front of the correct house.

Surface of the Sun Hot

I have decided being an adult sucks. I would like to return my membership card NOW. Who do I turn this thing in to? If you could direct me to the correct state or federal bureaucracy I would appreciate it. Or maybe I need to turn it back in to my parents. I’m not sure who, but at this point I’m desperate.

I adore my new house, but ownership has not come without some heartache. We’ve had a variety of things go wrong, but we keep reminding ourselves, the house is over 60 years old. We knew these things were going to happen, and planned for it. First it was the chimney. Then the light in my oven doesn’t work (and no it’s not the lightbulb). Then a leak from the A/C. Then the driveway seems to be disappearing before my eyes. And mysteriously, I seem to only be able to get hot water out of my kitchen faucet. Nothing has been overwhelmingly expensive. We have one of those home warranty thingees and to this point things have been more annoying, than major.

Then on Sunday we returned from coast. I walked into the house. Started going through the mail and suddenly said aloud to Ripken “is it just me or is it REALLY hot in here.” I heard the HSH pipe up from the back bedroom, “yeah, right?” Walk over to the thermostat. It’s set to 74, but the temperature inside the house is 95. 95 degrees. Like… inside my living room, not my garage.

If you woke up this morning wondering “how many trips from the warranty company’s A/C repair guy does it take before your house is cool again” the answer is 5. AND COUNTING. Their level of incompetence is astounding. I’m not just being mean because I haven’t been able to blow dry my hair in 4 days, or apply makeup without having it instantly melt off. I mean REALLY. I don’t want to bore you with the litany of examples but please take my word for it. Luckily the HSH is a genius and purchased a window unit on Sunday after the first ridiculous attempt by the a/c guy to fix our stuff. We have been camped out in the master bedroom since then, as it is the only room in the house that doesn’t require I hand out ice packs and extra deodorant upon entry. It’s a little like sleeping in a wind tunnel, but it beats “sleeping” in a 95 degree house.

The feeling of futility stems from the fact that I’m sure I could find a more competent A/C guy in about the time it takes me to break a sweat after entering my house (aprox. 1 nanosecond) but naturally if I do that, the warranty company won’t foot the bill. I might add, this is AFTER the warranty company came in and “fixed” the A/C because there was a leak in the drip pan and recommended a couple of other small repairs to prevent THE VERY SITUATION WE ARE IN RIGHT NOW (i.e. having to go without A/C in the dead of a Houston summer). So to recap: they replaced some part on my functioning air conditioning unit that “could go out on me at any time” and 1 week later, I’m mysteriously without the loving joys of central air. What the hell, people?! Now they’ve been to my house 4 times with either no part, or the wrong part, and of course every time promising that NEXT time it would all be fixed.

I miss the days where I knew nothing about air conditioning units and my biggest “home” related worry was whether or not my dorm fridge could hold enough beer for the weekend.

update: two seconds after I hit publish the HSH texted me to say the supervisor was at the house, and had fixed the problem. The other guy had the wires crossed. No really. Wires crossed. And you thought I was making the incompetent part up.

Things You Wish You Knew About Your City

I have lived in this fair city for a number of years now, but I was not born nor was I raised here. Because of this, I typically assume that if I know about some little treasure in the city, everyone else does as well. It’s not always rational, but hey…life is full of incorrect assumptions.

In conversation the other day I made an offhand remark to the crew over at Rice2029, and was met with quizzical stares. Say what? You guys don’t know about the magic that is Heberts? My oh my. Let me introduce you to my friend: the deboned stuffed whole chicken. These things are a true lazy person’s treasure. They come magically deboned (I have no desire to know how that is done), and stuffed with a variety of goodness. After hearing that they had never had the pleasure of enjoying this Cajun oddity, I invited Mamma V, Em, Kwon, and THC over for a meal. We had the HS favorite of the Shrimp Rice Dressing stuffed chicken, and I took advantage of the company to venture into one of my favorites, the Broccoli Cheese Rice Dressing Stuffed Chicken. (The HSH doesn’t like broccoli!) If you live in Houston, I highly recommend this place. You simply open, put in baking dish, put in oven and about an hour later, you enjoy your dinner. Easy peasy. I go for the fresh, unfrozen, chickens at the back of the store. They do frozen too, but I’m into instant gratification. They have a variety of other things as well. Some we’ve tried and lots we haven’t. We’ve never gone wrong.

We followed dinner up with arts and crafts time. No really. I keep sidewalk chalk around for the nieces and assorted other kiddos who are at my house from time to time. Em wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it.

Everyone Needs A Friend Like This

This is what my daily Instant Messenger conversations with KK (the artist formally known as McD) look like.

ME: if you were a patio furniture grouping that was open on one side....
ME: would you be open twds the house, or twds the yard
KK: house
KK: cause then you welcome the folks in and enjoy the ambiance of the yard behind you...
KK: rather than worrying if the killer who is robbing your house as you blindly face the yard is going to get you before he leaves?

I don’t know which is more unusual. That she never said “what kind of question is that?” (duh. The kind I ask.) or that her logic totally made sense to me.

Here is how it turned out. The first picture was taken while the cushion covers were in the washer. It was a risky move (it said not to machine wash, but I was desperate) that paid off. Ok maybe not "risky" in the traditional sense of the word. More like wearing-white-out-of-season, or putting-potato-skins-in-the-garbage-disposal risky. (Don't try that last one, I have and let me give the preview: lots of dirty looks, and dirty words from the hubby, or who ever your designated fixer is).

Tap Tap Tap (repeat)

I have house anxiety. I feel kind of bad even admitting this. I mean, there are so many other things in the world to worry about. People have been telling me more and more I need a kid so I can worry about something worthwhile, and to them I say: shut it.

I’ve been mulling it over, and I think I have found the source of the anxiety. The previous owners of the Halfstreet had a style that was different than mine. I wasn’t in love with their things, nor with the places they had put those things. So when the HSH and I moved in, our stuff and layout felt like an improvement. Fast forward to the new house (yet to be named). The house had been professionally staged when it went on the market, and the things were really nice. It felt like walking into a catalogue. So now my stuff feels out of place, and not as nice as the picture in my mind. Add to this the fact that you could fit all of our current furniture into one room in the house, and the thought of picking out new things plus figuring out where they go, is causing me some anxiety. No, really.

One thing was for certain though. A rug for the new master bedroom had to be acquired IMMEDIATELY. I never thought I would rue the day that I purchased a home with hardwood floors throughout, but the last week has been a sleepless nightmare. The sound of Ripken walking around on the hardwoods at 3am could replace waterboarding at Gitmo as the preferred method of torture. Not that I’m in favor of torture. I’m just saying.

Anyhoo, there was the compounding problem that he couldn’t get enough traction on the hardwoods to jump into the bed (yes, my dog sleeps in the bed. Again: shut it.). So his new method of getting into bed consisted of placing his front paws about 2 inches from my face and whining until I lifted him into bed. (Somewhere in Indiana, Shannon is vomiting in her mouth). Yes, I know my dog is spoiled. I also knew that I could easily break him of the habit, if I was willing to part with approximately 2 nights of sleep, and just let him whine it out. But I wasn’t. What I was willing to do was hurry up and find a rug. Pictures below (sorry for the craptastic quality of it...its on my cellphone, as we still have no internet at home).

Name Recognition

So I haven't posted in forever. Well not forevvvver. But pretty close. In my defense, I have been busy closing on houses, unpacking boxes and deciding which cupboard my 10 sets of nesting bowls belong in. Seriously, why does one person have so many sets of bowls that nest. And who came up with term? It sounds unsanitary.

Oh, and I don't have internet at the new house. So if you're wanting pictures, or something witty, you'll just have to wait.

In the meantime... There have been lots of discussions/questions about what the Halfstreet will be called, now that I don't live on the Halfstreet. So in the spirit of democracy, I open the discussion up to you loyal readers:

Is the Halfstreet more than just a physical location? Should the blog be renamed? What about all those creative nicknames that it took me forever to come up with? You know, like HSH. Should it go by the wayside?

I'm on the fence. Instruct me internet peeps.

Some Thoughts On A Home (aka please excuse the cheese)

Sorry I haven’t written lately. I’ve had a post drafted up for a while, but I fear the jinx. Maybe it’s the baseball fan in me, but I am hugely superstitious that as soon as you talk about something, it will be no more. As irrational as it sounds, in my mind, “Hey, we sold our house” sounds exactly like “Hey, he’s got a no hitter going” … Doing so will make it vanish faster than a bullsh!t bloop single in the bottom of the ninth will make a grown man cry.

But now I’ve said it, and it’s out there. We’re leaving the Halfstreet. Just typing those words makes me a little misty eyed. We had no idea it would happen so quickly. We’ve batted around the idea of selling so many times, our friends/family got tired of asking. But one weekend we decided to pack up some clutter around the house, and by Tuesday it was listed. I figured I had some time to get used to the idea, but by Friday we had an offer in hand. By the next Monday we had placed and had an offer accepted on a new house. It all went so smoothly I absolutely refused to believe it was true (well the bargainer in the HSH did come out, so smoothly is a bit of an exaggeration). I think many of our friends/family were caught off guard, including my poor brother who had to hear about it from someone else. For those of you I didn’t tell directly, I apologize, it’s not because I don’t love you! NOTHING goes this well for us. It just can’t be true. We are out of the option period for both houses now, and I had told myself I would take a deep breath when that happened. But honestly, no deep breaths in sight. I won’t believe it is all true till I have the keys in hand.

Plus there is the matter of how I feel about leaving the Halfstreet. The following will surprise no one that knows me very well: I cried when I signed the contract to sell the house. Not just a little tear glistening on my cheek. But buckets. So bad that our dear friend who is doubling as our realtor (and who has worked like a dog for us…any credit on the ease of the process goes to him) felt compelled to remind me that we didn’t have to sell if we didn’t want to. And it’s not that. I’m ready for a change it’s just….

Well.

The love of my life asked me to marry him in the dining room of this house.

There I said it. Its so cheesy I know. But it is also so true. Also true are the facts that I hosted celebrations in honor of the baptism of Sofia, and the impending birth of Brady in this house, and countless other occasions.

Only.

They aren’t countless, I remember every damn one of them. I remember hosting Father’s Day for the HSD, the HSFIL and the HSBIL. I remember last Christmas where my whole side of the family packed it in for Rock Band, and my cousin told me I was an impressive hostess (a compliment I will take to my grave). I remember bringing Ripken home and can still see the evidence of it on some of the blinds that he gnawed. I remember watching Kenyon crawl across the floors and all of us getting a chuckle out of how I had thought my floors were clean. Like I said, I remember everything.

I have no idea where this pile of sap and sentimentality came from. I fully recognize the need for more space, and change of venue. And I love the potential new house. I really really do. Its just. Well. I really love THIS house. And I’ll miss it. But as the HSD would remind me: onward and upward. I have no time to dissolve into tears at the mere thought of leaving the house. I have boxes to pack and furniture to buy. Keep us in your thoughts as we try to get through this process. And by “we” I mean “me” since the HSH shares none of my irrational behavior. Hopefully I didn’t just put the mother of all jinxes on it.

Cute Chaos

I’ve always thought the expression “herding cats” was particularly illustrative. But never more so then a couple weeks ago when I made the drive out to see niece #1 (being the oldest has its privilege’s, not least among them being labeled as niece #1, I’m sure.) in her soccer debut. 3 year olds playing soccer was pretty much exactly what I expected: mass chaos. But really really cute mass chaos. For the most part, the talent field was pretty level. Kids that age might like the concept of playing soccer, but in practice having all those adults on the sidelines watching them and cheering is pretty intimidating. This does not get better with age, sorry kiddos.

K was the best girl on the field. This despite a small break during play, spent sitting in the grass (hey! She was tired) and a 5 minute period where she and her friend tested an inventive strategy whereby they played soccer while holding hands. I don’t think the method is going to catch on anytime soon in the World Cup, but I liked their willingness to experiment. Seriously, though K was a regular Mia Hamm-Garcia-Parra compared to some of the other boys and girls she was playing with (yes I know Garciaparra is one word, but my way is more symmetrical). The fact that she showed no fear in taking the field was a testament to her outgoing little personality, and I was super proud of her. This might seem minor, but when you consider that they pretty much have to have a roster of 50 munchkins to find 5 that are willing to take the field at any given time, you can see why this was reason for excitement. In a related note: if anyone is looking for a new workout regime, might I suggest coaching the 3 year old set in soccer? These guys spent an hour running up and down the small field, trying to keep track of which midgets were their players, and encouraging them to kick the ball toward the correct goal. This involved lots of yelling and hand gesturing. I was exhausted just watching them.

I look forward to a long, decorated, soccer career from K. If there wasn’t a demographic known as “Soccer Aunts” before, I’m ready to start one. GO HOTSHOTS!

Random Things Sure to Drive Me Insane

Lately it seems I have read about, or been told about, some really horrific dates. "Maybe if I was still single, I would have more to blog about" I've been thinking to myself of late. Not that I'm willing to become single again for the sake of the blog. Sorry, there are limits. I even tried mining my memories for some stories to recap here, for the benefit of my faithful readers. But I can't really come up with anything good. Sure there was the guy that started every dance move with a clap. Or, come to think of it, just clapped a lot in general. Like "Who's ready for dinner?" clap. or "Did you see the news yesterday?" clap. But, explaining why this annoyed the ever living daylights out of me poses some literary problems. In short, it's a story better told live. Thankfully, ours was a long distance relationship, so my exposure to his clapping ways was kept to a minimum. Turns out I can stand just about anything for about 1 weekend a month. Perhaps not coincidently, the relationship fizzled when he expressed a desire to move to my city. (I feel the need to caveat that story with the detail that this person was insanely nice. I think I'm just a bad person, since certainly any sane person could deal with the clapping.) And then there was the time I was listening to a friend tell an anonymous bad date story and the punch line was "and he had forgotten his wallet" and I blurted out "was it Cheapy McCheapsalot??!!" (name changed to protect the chronically cheap.) Turns out I had been on a date with the same person, and yes. He had forgotten his wallet that time as well. But that's really it. Any other bad date stories I have would be the result of something I did, and who really wants to tell those? Its my blog after all.

Turns out, the Universe did the Halfstreet a favor and reminded me that I don't have to be dating to have amusing conversations with strangers. Say it with me: Thank you Universe.

This past week was the Avon Breast Cancer walk, an event I have been a part of in recent years. This year I decided to forgo the whole 'walking' thing and opted instead to cheer along the route. This enabled me to a. retain the use of my feet for the next week and b. assuage a teeny bit of my guilt. I figured "hey, I'm waking up before 9am on a weekend, so that's still a sacrifice." Work with me here people. I'm doing my best.

Anyway, there I was. At mile 10 in the parking lot of a CVS, wearing my participant Tshirt from last year (seeee? I did it last year!). I had taken advantage of the fact that the HSH was out of town and put Ripken in his fancy new Tshirt as well. Little did I know this would be the cause of my demise. Actually, the HSH would argue that any moron could guess that dressing your dog in clothes is a mistake, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. So there were we were, cheering, clapping, eating bacon (Ripken, not me). When, from behind me, I got a whiff of a cigar. Ha, I thought. Smoking at a cancer event. Klassy. Then the cigar smokers struck up a convo. I recreate the conversation for your benefit below (it's neither here nor there, but they were also holding beers in addition to their cigars)

Klassy guy 1: Is this your dog?
Me: (I'm holding his leash, and there is no one else around) Yup.
Klassy guy 2: What kind of dog is he?
Me: (He's wearing a Tshirt that says "Beagles for Boobies") A Beagle.
Klassy guy 1: Is he pure bred? He doesn't look like a beagle.
Me: (This always seems like a random question to me, but we get it a lot. I guess I'm not familiar with what beagles look like. Its true, he doesn't wear aviator glasses and live in Charlie Brown's backyard but good Lord) Yes.
Klassy Guy 1: What's his name?
Me: Ripken
Klassy Guy 2: Well, I hate to tell you Ripken, but you're chunky.

I stared at the guys and had a moment like in the movie High Fidelity with John Cusack. If you've seen it (all 2 of you), its the part where Cusack imagines he is beating the tar out of Tim Robbins only to blink and realize Tim Robbins is actually still standing right there in front of him. Only in my mind, Ripken was John Cusack and these two guys were Tim Robbins. After a moment I realized Ripken had not, in fact, turned around and gone straight for the jugular. And instead of sitting there bathed in their blood from his gruesome attack, he was sitting there in his stupid Tshirt looking at me thinking "Thanks a lot lady. Like its not bad enough you put me in a Tshirt, you had to put me in one that makes me look fat?"

This is what I get for waking up before 9am on a weekend. And going places by myself. And putting my dog in stupid Tshirts. clap.

All The Sequins You Can Handle

The name Britney Spears conjures up so many images in people’s minds. Saucy teenage vixen in a school girl outfit? Check. Unstable ex girlfriend to a pop super star? Check. Completely unhinged ex wife to a back up dancer? Yup. And that even leaves out the obvious head shaving, car beating, paparazzo dating, interview train wrecking nightmare that has been her last couple of years.

So after all this, I’m not sure what I was expecting from the concert last Monday. I can’t lie…a wee bit of me was thinking ‘well if she really is on the verge of another breakdown, maybe it will happen here and I can be a witness to it.’ I know. It’s so wrong. But I’m just being honest. We assembled the typical crew of lovely ladies, with the addition of M who came all the way from Philly to see Britney. Or maybe to see NKC. It was unclear who had more pull.

Before the concert tons of people were making a stink about Miss. Spears singing live. It didn’t take me long into the concert to think ‘who gives a flying flip?’ What a bunch of hooey. When I go to a Brit –Brit concert I want to see some great dancing, enjoy some fun costumes and listen to some great music. I would rather it be pre-recorded than have to listen to her huff and puff her way through the songs. This was a complete non issue for me.

What I did care about was that there were no cameras on her during the show, with footage projected to a Jumbotron. So we couldn’t see her close up. Or at least close-R up. I’m not sure if her ‘people’ (and man, I bet she has 100 of them to help her keep her shit together) are worried about the lip synching issue or about snarky comments regarding her physical shape but either way…who cares!? Give the fans in the cheap seats a chance to see her twirling tassels! Thankfully T had the forethought to bring some binoculars which all of us passed around like…well, like whatever you choose to share amongst your friends. The costumes were pretty fabulous; although I’m guessing they include a lot more netting and control hose than they did on her first go around. Also, I’m praying that the Wonder Woman cut of bikini bottoms (as one of our girls called them) isn’t about to make a comeback. Is that look really flattering on anyone, short of Wonder Woman herself? It was pretty obvious they were trying to avoid the MTV Music Awards nightmare of teeny-weeny bottoms and too much Britney and I guess it worked. Like I said, it was pretty hard to tell from our section.

So if that last paragraph should prove anything to Britney’s handlers it should be: HAVING NO CAMERA FOOTAGE DOES NOT PREVENT SNARKY COMMENTS SO GIVE IT TO US ANYWAY!

Anyway, all in all I’ve decided I’m proud of Britney for her comeback thus far. The concert was fun, and energetic, and she played Hit Me Baby One More Time, which was all I really wanted to hear anyway. Sure, it takes a staff of hundreds, and I’m sure what amounts to a traveling pharmacy, to keep her from derailing. And sure, she’s still a terrible role model for young girls (if I had taken a preteen girl to that concert I would have had a different opinion on the no Jumbotron footage thing. It would have been a blessing to NOT have to explain why the tassel outfit was not an appropriate choice for Halloween this year). But you know what? What person wouldn’t crack under the pressure that poor girl has been under. The biggest eye opening moment of the concert was when I tore my eyes away from a dance number and looked out into the crowd. All you could see were hundreds and hundreds of cell phones and cameras fixed on her from the crowd. If they were hoping for a meltdown, she left them wanting more.

Head Exploding In 3...2...

What could possibly explain this look on NKC's face? 6 words for you:

HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME

More details than you can shake a tassel at coming up.

Nothing Witty

Bet you thought I keeled over, eh? Nope, still here. Alive and kicking. After digging out of our post-Disney depression, the Half Street is back to continue the re-cap. Carry on.

The rest of day two was spent in a haze of fast passes, hot dogs, cute outfits and broken rides.

Outfit number 2 for the day was purchased on Etsy (eBay for crafty folks, only no bidding, just buying. Ok maybe not like eBay. Whatevs.) after being inspired by the Libbanator. I went from knowing nothing about Etsy to dropping some serious cash on the site, within 10 minutes of setting up my account. Awesome.

And just in case you thought Sofia wasn't getting equal billing:

Remember how I said tons of hot dogs were consumed? I wasn't lying. Here we are enjoying our "Corny Dog" after finding out the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was closed.

Some thoughts about this: Who says "corny" dog? I'll tell you. People from Dallas. For example, SIL-E and CRuff. The rest of the world says corn dog. Or at least this is what I believe. Correct me if I'm wrong. Oh and BTMRR being closed? Slightly annoying. When you get right down to it, there just aren't that many rides at the Magic Kingdom. So when one of the staples is closed, well. Annoying. Anyhoo. It didn't get Ella down. All her rides were open. Like Dumbo (time #2) And Aladdin's Magic carpet ride, which she can be seen waiting patiently for here:


While her Dad and Uncle mastered the fine art of the Fast Pass (more later), the ladies enjoyed a cool drink.

If you ask me, Sofia had the best seat in the house.