I got home from work on Friday night and I thought the two craziest things that were going to happen would be having to go to the cable company to return some equipment and trying to figure out where I was going to fit 8 people sleeping in my house Sunday night when I have 3 beds and only 2 of the people are in a romantic relationship with each other.
I just changed all of my TV and internet stuff to a new company because after having my house re-wired twice by my previous provider, my internet would still go out several times per week requiring me to unhook everything from the router and modem, unplug everything, get it all hooked up and turned on again, reboot my computer and it was making me insane. I had been with the previous provider since about 1987 through college apartments, post-college apartments, my apartment while I was married, my apartment after I got divorced, and in my house I'm in now. So this was kind of a big deal for me and I felt like I had gone through a breakup when I called them last week to cancel my service. I then canceled another service today which I've had for almost 7 years so now I feel like crying and eating chocolate because of all the breaking up I've been doing. I told them it's you, it's not me so that was kind of different than most break ups. But still. Breaking up is hard to do.
Saturday morning I planned to drive to the cable company's office down by the airport which is about 20 minutes from my house and return my equipment, then come home and maybe work in my yard if it would stop raining here in Atlanta for at least 30 minutes so that I could then spend Sunday cleaning my house, washing sheets, and getting ready for squeezing everyone in my house overnight.
Only that is not exactly how my weekend went.
I got home from work on Friday night and my fake daughter didn't get home from work until almost 9:00. She told me the family she's been working for owns rental properties and they had taken her to see an apartment that just became available. She said she liked it okay, that they told her when another apartment becomes available in one of their properties in a nicer area they will allow her and my fake boy to move if they want to (which made me wonder just what kind of area this apartment is in), and that they were putting new carpet, new flooring, and doing a lot of painting because the previous tenants didn't take such great care of the place. I questioned her about several things including some things that are really important to their specific situation which I'm not going to disclose on here and she quickly admitted that a whole bunch of stuff was not exactly worked out in detail pertaining to their situation. But she kept insisting that she wanted them to move to this apartment.
I reminded her that all they had at that point were the clothes they moved here with and she said the apartment is not furnished. So I asked her, "do y'all plan to sleep on a bag of clothes? And what do you plan to cook in/on or eat in/on? You have no dishes, no pots or pans, no silverware, no glasses, no beds, no pillows, no sheets, no blankets, nothing to sit on, no shower curtain, no broom or mop to clean with, no vacuum cleaner, no nothing. You have clothes and flip flops and a bicycle and that is all you own in the world and that is not going to be fun to survive on."
We sat and made a very specific list of all the basic stuff they would need and then we discussed how much all of this was going to cost and I suggested a couple of places we could start looking. I also told him that since I'm almost 45 years old, I have accumulated a whole bunch of crap over the years and probably had duplicates of a lot of stuff so I would start going through my kitchen and pulling stuff I can certainly stand to spare and that I had a set of dishes I've been trying to get rid of for years which they could have.
Then I made the mistake of suggesting that sometime soon we should go to Ikea because it's inexpensive and a great place for people who are starting from scratch and that is how I ended up going to the cable company and then spending 5 hours in Ikea on Saturday afternoon which my stupid plantar fasciitis loved so much. So much. When the fake daughter asked if we could go, we both thought the fake son would go as well and I was prepared to take my Kindle and sit somewhere while the two of them walked around because my feet are so screwed up. Only he decided to go play soccer all day and since Ikea is gigantic and it was crowded, I felt I should walk with her. And now my feet are in excruciating pain. Amen.
She bought a couple of mattresses and because they are from Ikea they came rolled up like burritos and wrapped in plastic as only Ikea can manage to do, and a whole bunch of other basic stuff and we boxed it up when we got home and put it in my garage and I knew it would sit in there for a while so I could go through my house and figure out what I can donate to their apartment, until they really got this apartment stuff figured out and made sure it was going to work with their specific issues they need it to work with, figured out how to get utilities hooked up without any credit history, and signed a lease, etc.
And we all went to bed Saturday and honestly I was awake half of the night worrying about whether or not I've done a good enough job and if I've taught them enough to live on their own in a new-to-them country and then trying to convince myself to stop worrying so damn much (I am a huge worrier and have been all of my life) because they are not my kids and it's not my responsibility and knowing they are going to make mistakes and that's how you learn the most important lessons in life but at the same time wanting to throw my arms around them and protect them like a mama bear even though I'm not their mama. And then I understood just the tiniest bit how it must feel to actually have children.
We got up Sunday morning and they helped me clean the house and we all washed our sheets and blankets to get ready for all of my family who were coming to stay at my house Sunday night, and they were trying to help me figure out who could sleep where, and then they told me they were going to walk up the street to a shopping center and that they'd be back in a while.
They came back home around 4:30 and I was still cleaning my bedroom and had to take a shower, and my fake daughter said, "okay, I'm going to start packing our clothes up now." And I said ??????????
She told me the owners of the property had texted them while they were at the shopping center up the street and said they could go ahead and move in so she had called a friend of theirs and the friend said she could come over after she got off work and move their stuff for them in her van. By 6:00 when my mom arrived at my house from Texas, they had all of their belongings piled up in my dining room and then my mom and I helped them load it in their friend's van and they were moved out of my house by 6:30 Sunday evening. I went from wondering if this particular apartment was going to work out for them to them having moved out in a 2 hour period.
And I sat there with my mom at my kitchen island in stunned silence.
Y'all, they did drive me insane a lot of the time but they are good kids and I grew to care about them so, so, so much. And I want them to be okay.
They moved without knowing if their specific major issue is going to work out for them to live in this particular apartment, they are living there with the owners having the utilities all turned on in their names so if the kids can't get them turned on for some reason I'm not sure what will happen, and they have no signed lease. I know they are excited to have their own place and I'm glad to have my own place again too.
But I'm aware I could soon receive a phone call that things aren't working out like they hoped and that they need to come back. And whether y'all agree with me or not, I'd welcome them both back in my home in a heartbeat if they find themselves in a bad situation.
And that was my crazy weekend.
I also talked with Laurie on Sunday and she said she would love to come back to Atlanta for another Atlanta Pie Party this fall. We kind of decided on sometime in October and I'm happy to host it at my house again if y'all want to get together. Can y'all throw out some dates in October that would work? I don't have anything planned that far in advance so I'm totally open at this point. Laurie and I said we should try to convince June to come down as well. I have two bedrooms and beds available for them to stay with me now.....
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
A response to a comment left on this blog
I do plan to write a "real" post soon - hopefully in the next day or two.
However, a couple of hours ago, someone anonymously left a comment on my last post. In case that person doesn't go back and read when I reply in the comments section, I decided to make this a post of its own. Plus it's a little lengthy to be a comment.
So this is in response to Anonymous:
I appreciate your concern, but my eyes ARE wide open and my boyfriend is not a con artist. I was previously married to an alcoholic with Tourette Syndrome, he was bi-polar, he developed some drug issues and tried to get me to do drugs, he routinely told me how I needed to eat a salad but he was going to have a McDonald's burger and a milkshake because I have a weight problem but he didn't, and he was secretly offering marital funds to his mom behind my back. So I've been in a horrid 10 year relationship which had me crying more than I was laughing, and I didn't enter this one with my eyes closed or being accepting of someone who I didn't feel was treating me right.
One of the problems with having a blog is that you can't tell everything sometimes and people make assumptions when they only know part of the story. It's understandable. I don't really owe anyone an explanation, but here's as much of one as I feel like I want to offer on here:
My boyfriend isn't UNABLE to find time to visit me or his kids - he can't get here because of visa issues. And he's having the issues in the first place because he was completely honest with our government about some stuff and because he's NOT a liar or a con artist. They kind of gave him a way to lie his way back here (and they knew he'd be telling a lie) but his work down there is fighting corruption and he felt like he wouldn't be much better than the corrupt people if he lied.
We get cut off because the internet SUCKS in the middle of the Amazon jungle. I've been there to visit him so I saw it first hand. We were staying in the nicest hotel in the city and I had to reconnect over and over and over again just to get a one paragraph email to my mom telling her I had arrived safely. It took me about 4 hours to get one paragraph sent to her. I went with him to an internet cafe while I was there and he could not stay connected to do what he needed to do. We visited several offices (banks, government offices, etc.) while I was there. Guess what? They had problems too. The internet sucks there. I didn't understand it when he told me just how bad it was until I saw it for myself, so I don't expect you to understand it either. Also, when you write a blog you sometimes focus on those crazy moments when the internet cuts off right at an important moment in a conversation and you don't write about all of the times you finish a conversation because those times aren't as interesting to read about.
When he was here in the U.S., he regularly drove 6 hours round trip from other cities he was working in just so he could take me out to dinner and see me on a Saturday night. He invited me to drive to the cities he was working in if I wanted to (and I did a couple of times) because he had nothing to hide. He would come to my house if I was out of town to take care of my cat (he doesn't really even like cats - he's a dog person) and he would go to the store and cook me a week's worth of meals so I would have something healthy and good to eat when I got back. He would arrive at my apartment, see something needed fixed and just fix it without me asking. He paid for some healthcare I needed when I couldn't afford it (it was over $1,300). He gets angry with me when he hears me putting myself down for my weight, not feeling like I was good at something, etc. He left me about 10 times as much money as he needed to when he left for Brazil to handle something for him. His goal in life is to open a children's hospital or a place to teach children life skills so they can better themselves. Does that sound like a con artist? He prays with me. He sings in his horrible singing voice just to make me laugh. He goes to the store and loads up on vitamins and natural remedies and makes me organic healing "teas" when I'm sick. He pretty much forbid me from doing some things when I was in the Amazon with him that I thought sounded super interesting because he knew they could put me in harm's way. He cried when I went there because he said he realized no one else there spoke English and I was putting my life in his hands because I would not have known how to even get out of the airport in a taxi without him there and he realized how much faith and trust I have in him. These are just a very few ways he shows me how much he cares. He has never asked me for anything in return in the 7 years we've been in a relationship. He has repeatedly checked in with me to make sure I'm okay with our relationship and the fact that he isn't around.
What you don't know about me is that I don't want a guy who is sitting across the table from me 3 meals per day, calling me 10 times while I'm at work to check in with me, sitting with me on the sofa every evening, and in bed with me each night. I have never been in a relationship like that and it would make me completely insane if I was. Just because most women want a lot of together time doesn't mean there aren't some of us who don't.
You also may not know that my ex-husband and I were in a long distance (international) relationship for quite some time. And back then the internet wasn't common (I didn't even have a home computer and mobile phones were something only rich people had installed in their cars) and we had to write letters to each other which sometimes took 2 months to be delivered because neither of us could even begin to afford international phone calls. I was also in a long distance relationship with a guy here in the U.S. (me in Atlanta, him in D.C.). This is not my first time around this block.
He did not "leave" his kids with me. They are legal adults and moved here against his wishes. He checked with me about 10 times to make sure I was okay with them staying with me before they came. He begged me to be honest with him about whether I was okay with it. He fought with them a lot about it because he wanted them to wait until he can get back here (he's told me this and so have the kids) but they would not wait. He wants them to move back home but they want to live here. Again, they are legal adults so he can't force them. He has apologized to me profusely that they have been in my house for so long and has been in tears telling me he knows how it has disrupted my life and how awful he feels about all of it.
He is a real man. And our relationship probably wouldn't work for 90% of people, but it works for us and that's all I need to worry about. It seems it probably would not work for you and that's okay because you're not in the relationship. You don't know me and you certainly don't know every detail of my life and our relationship.
I'm not an idiot whether you'd like to believe that or not. But again, thanks for your concern.
However, a couple of hours ago, someone anonymously left a comment on my last post. In case that person doesn't go back and read when I reply in the comments section, I decided to make this a post of its own. Plus it's a little lengthy to be a comment.
So this is in response to Anonymous:
I appreciate your concern, but my eyes ARE wide open and my boyfriend is not a con artist. I was previously married to an alcoholic with Tourette Syndrome, he was bi-polar, he developed some drug issues and tried to get me to do drugs, he routinely told me how I needed to eat a salad but he was going to have a McDonald's burger and a milkshake because I have a weight problem but he didn't, and he was secretly offering marital funds to his mom behind my back. So I've been in a horrid 10 year relationship which had me crying more than I was laughing, and I didn't enter this one with my eyes closed or being accepting of someone who I didn't feel was treating me right.
One of the problems with having a blog is that you can't tell everything sometimes and people make assumptions when they only know part of the story. It's understandable. I don't really owe anyone an explanation, but here's as much of one as I feel like I want to offer on here:
My boyfriend isn't UNABLE to find time to visit me or his kids - he can't get here because of visa issues. And he's having the issues in the first place because he was completely honest with our government about some stuff and because he's NOT a liar or a con artist. They kind of gave him a way to lie his way back here (and they knew he'd be telling a lie) but his work down there is fighting corruption and he felt like he wouldn't be much better than the corrupt people if he lied.
We get cut off because the internet SUCKS in the middle of the Amazon jungle. I've been there to visit him so I saw it first hand. We were staying in the nicest hotel in the city and I had to reconnect over and over and over again just to get a one paragraph email to my mom telling her I had arrived safely. It took me about 4 hours to get one paragraph sent to her. I went with him to an internet cafe while I was there and he could not stay connected to do what he needed to do. We visited several offices (banks, government offices, etc.) while I was there. Guess what? They had problems too. The internet sucks there. I didn't understand it when he told me just how bad it was until I saw it for myself, so I don't expect you to understand it either. Also, when you write a blog you sometimes focus on those crazy moments when the internet cuts off right at an important moment in a conversation and you don't write about all of the times you finish a conversation because those times aren't as interesting to read about.
When he was here in the U.S., he regularly drove 6 hours round trip from other cities he was working in just so he could take me out to dinner and see me on a Saturday night. He invited me to drive to the cities he was working in if I wanted to (and I did a couple of times) because he had nothing to hide. He would come to my house if I was out of town to take care of my cat (he doesn't really even like cats - he's a dog person) and he would go to the store and cook me a week's worth of meals so I would have something healthy and good to eat when I got back. He would arrive at my apartment, see something needed fixed and just fix it without me asking. He paid for some healthcare I needed when I couldn't afford it (it was over $1,300). He gets angry with me when he hears me putting myself down for my weight, not feeling like I was good at something, etc. He left me about 10 times as much money as he needed to when he left for Brazil to handle something for him. His goal in life is to open a children's hospital or a place to teach children life skills so they can better themselves. Does that sound like a con artist? He prays with me. He sings in his horrible singing voice just to make me laugh. He goes to the store and loads up on vitamins and natural remedies and makes me organic healing "teas" when I'm sick. He pretty much forbid me from doing some things when I was in the Amazon with him that I thought sounded super interesting because he knew they could put me in harm's way. He cried when I went there because he said he realized no one else there spoke English and I was putting my life in his hands because I would not have known how to even get out of the airport in a taxi without him there and he realized how much faith and trust I have in him. These are just a very few ways he shows me how much he cares. He has never asked me for anything in return in the 7 years we've been in a relationship. He has repeatedly checked in with me to make sure I'm okay with our relationship and the fact that he isn't around.
What you don't know about me is that I don't want a guy who is sitting across the table from me 3 meals per day, calling me 10 times while I'm at work to check in with me, sitting with me on the sofa every evening, and in bed with me each night. I have never been in a relationship like that and it would make me completely insane if I was. Just because most women want a lot of together time doesn't mean there aren't some of us who don't.
You also may not know that my ex-husband and I were in a long distance (international) relationship for quite some time. And back then the internet wasn't common (I didn't even have a home computer and mobile phones were something only rich people had installed in their cars) and we had to write letters to each other which sometimes took 2 months to be delivered because neither of us could even begin to afford international phone calls. I was also in a long distance relationship with a guy here in the U.S. (me in Atlanta, him in D.C.). This is not my first time around this block.
He did not "leave" his kids with me. They are legal adults and moved here against his wishes. He checked with me about 10 times to make sure I was okay with them staying with me before they came. He begged me to be honest with him about whether I was okay with it. He fought with them a lot about it because he wanted them to wait until he can get back here (he's told me this and so have the kids) but they would not wait. He wants them to move back home but they want to live here. Again, they are legal adults so he can't force them. He has apologized to me profusely that they have been in my house for so long and has been in tears telling me he knows how it has disrupted my life and how awful he feels about all of it.
He is a real man. And our relationship probably wouldn't work for 90% of people, but it works for us and that's all I need to worry about. It seems it probably would not work for you and that's okay because you're not in the relationship. You don't know me and you certainly don't know every detail of my life and our relationship.
I'm not an idiot whether you'd like to believe that or not. But again, thanks for your concern.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Why I must wear some ugly ass shoes
Once again, I'm going to have to blaze through writing this post because I'm sneaking it in at work and I have to leave early today because if I don't I will have overtime. Overtime is not looked upon very fondly around these parts.
Before I start though, do y'all ever go back and re-read the comments here? Because sometimes (not all of the time) I reply to y'all but then I started thinking y'all may not ever see when I reply to your questions.
So in case you don't go back to the comments, here are some answers to your questions from my post a couple of days ago (or you can go read the comments and read here but it will sound repetitive because I'm, you know, repeating what I already said in the comments):
No, I have no idea how long the fake children will be staying with me. The girl fake child is working but bless her heart (yes, I mean that in the southern way which isn't necessarily a good thing), she had done no research as to how much it would cost to rent an apartment, buy furniture to furnish the apartment, buy sheets, towels, bed linens, dishes, pots/pans, etc. to live every day, pay deposits on an apartment, pay deposits on utilities, pay for utilities each month, put gas in her car, insure her car, feed themselves, etc. and so when the lady she's working for asked her how much she wanted to make she threw a number out there and that's what she's getting paid. And it might pay for a really cheap apartment rent and food and that's pretty much it. She was so excited because it sounded like a whole lot of money to them and I hated to burst her bubble, but I had to. I had tried to tell them how much stuff here would cost but I don't think she had really added it all up and didn't have a grand total in her mind. So I've told them they can stay with me until they can afford all of that stuff by getting a higher paying job but they have to pay for all of the groceries and help me clean the house while they are with me. They are actually super motivated to get a lot of stuff done, but America is way different than what they're used to so it's just taking a while to get on their feet. And the three of us have had a few tense moments, but we're working it all out and things are okay. It's just exhausting having people in your house for an extended period of time.
As far as the party, do y'all know that people who have two kids actually throw parties sometimes?? I am fine throwing a party with the kids still there. I just didn't want to do it the same weekend I had 4 family members also staying at my house because here's the deal with these particular family members: I love them all dearly, but they don't stick to a schedule. At all. The last time they came they told me they'd be at my house by 5 and I almost took part of the day off work so I could be home when they got there. But then I remembered they would NEVER be there by 5. They got to my house at 1:00 a.m. Yes, EIGHT HOURS LATE. They only live a 6 hour drive from me. And if they tell me they need to be on the road by 9 a.m., I know they'll leave my house by 2 p.m. or 3 p.m. They are always many hours behind. And if I had a party scheduled when they were staying with me I can promise you y'all would show up at my house and I'd still be in my pajamas with my hair up in a scrunchy bun on top of my head wearing my fuzzy bedroom shoes and cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast and I would have no party stuff ready even if the party started at 3. Another time they were here we had plans to go somewhere around 10:00 a.m. and we finally left for the activity at 4:00 p.m. and then we were late getting to a dinner that night. I wish I was exaggerating this even a little bit but I am not. Again, I love them to pieces but sticking to a schedule is not on their list of strong points.
So if y'all do want to have a birthday party, I'm all for it even with fake kids. But it would need to be on July 20th and not the 13th. But if y'all don't want to party like it's 1999, just let me know. Maybe we could convince June to come though......
Okay. So about my feet. What? Fake kids, party talk and feet all in one post? Why yes.
I just had to stop talking to y'all to work on a document for my boss so that just cut into my blogging time and I might STILL not finish this post before I have to leave work.
Like our favorite blogger, June, I have the feet problem. The plantar fascias or however the heck you spell it. I got it from teaching at the paint studio where I stood and walked on concrete floors and a plywood stage for hours and hours several nights a week for 5 years. When I broke my humerus last year, I had to stop working there. I also wore some super unattractive shoes because I was trying to wear rubber soled shoes so I wouldn't fall and break something else and to try and help my feet which were always in excruciating pain. And one night I was putting on these ugly ass shoes and I flipped one of them over on its side and fell anyway. My bed was right there so I flung out my good arm to catch myself. But I forgot my bed frame was on wheels and I had hardwood floors so my bed started quickly flying across the floor as I screamed and then flopped myself down on my face on the bed and right on my horribly broken arm because that seemed like a better option than falling on my face all the way down on the floor. And when I went to the doctor that week (I had to go every single week for about 2 months - SUCKED) and they x-rayed my arm, the doc said, "it looks like your bone pieces moved a little this week." And I replied, "could that possibly be from when I fell on my face a few days ago? Again." And he said it would be best if I could stay on my feet and stop falling on my face. Which, how did he get so smart? They must have taught him that in fancy medical school. Anyway, this was supposed to be about my feet and not about me trying to break my face.
So I wore those ugly ass shoes for almost 9 months straight while I recovered and I stopped walking and standing on concrete and plywood for 20+ hours per week and lo and behold my feet didn't hurt every single day. Only sometimes. And then my dad died and my brother and I had to clean out his house and then I broke my wrist and got whiplash so I was still not working at the studio because I was dealing with other crap. And suddenly I realized my feet hardly ever hurt anymore. And angels sang. Because y'all the pain from this foot stuff is unbelievable.
But then my fake kids came and I've been trying to show them around Atlanta and some of the cool stuff we have here. Two or three weeks ago I took them to Stone Mountain Park to the laser show. And even though we got there 3 hours before it started, the parking lots were full and we had to walk approximately 94753945794 miles. And I stupidly wore flip flops and I have been in tears for the past several weeks trying to walk. It's actually been the worst it's ever been. I've had to hold onto the walls in my house because I've felt like I was going to fall my feet hurt so much.
So now I'm back in my ugly ass shoes trying to fix my feet again. So if we have a party I will try to wear cute shoes that day but I might be in my ugly ass shoes.
Then my neck started hurting really bad again. I had a massage at the chiropractor and it feels even worse from that. Then I slammed my good arm into a door knob two days ago and it's bruised so bad I could cry every single time I touch it. And my shoulder that was hurt last year when I broke my arm is hurting again from some of the physical therapy I'm doing for my wrist. And my entire left calf hurts from walking weird because my feet are so hurt-y.
And I hate everything.
And I have to leave work right now so I have to end this post. I will try to sneak in some more blogging this weekend if my fake kids are doing something else. I have plans Sunday morning to meet some friends for brunch, but that's all I have planned. And the angels sang because I might get to sit on my ass and rest for a minute.
Before I start though, do y'all ever go back and re-read the comments here? Because sometimes (not all of the time) I reply to y'all but then I started thinking y'all may not ever see when I reply to your questions.
So in case you don't go back to the comments, here are some answers to your questions from my post a couple of days ago (or you can go read the comments and read here but it will sound repetitive because I'm, you know, repeating what I already said in the comments):
No, I have no idea how long the fake children will be staying with me. The girl fake child is working but bless her heart (yes, I mean that in the southern way which isn't necessarily a good thing), she had done no research as to how much it would cost to rent an apartment, buy furniture to furnish the apartment, buy sheets, towels, bed linens, dishes, pots/pans, etc. to live every day, pay deposits on an apartment, pay deposits on utilities, pay for utilities each month, put gas in her car, insure her car, feed themselves, etc. and so when the lady she's working for asked her how much she wanted to make she threw a number out there and that's what she's getting paid. And it might pay for a really cheap apartment rent and food and that's pretty much it. She was so excited because it sounded like a whole lot of money to them and I hated to burst her bubble, but I had to. I had tried to tell them how much stuff here would cost but I don't think she had really added it all up and didn't have a grand total in her mind. So I've told them they can stay with me until they can afford all of that stuff by getting a higher paying job but they have to pay for all of the groceries and help me clean the house while they are with me. They are actually super motivated to get a lot of stuff done, but America is way different than what they're used to so it's just taking a while to get on their feet. And the three of us have had a few tense moments, but we're working it all out and things are okay. It's just exhausting having people in your house for an extended period of time.
As far as the party, do y'all know that people who have two kids actually throw parties sometimes?? I am fine throwing a party with the kids still there. I just didn't want to do it the same weekend I had 4 family members also staying at my house because here's the deal with these particular family members: I love them all dearly, but they don't stick to a schedule. At all. The last time they came they told me they'd be at my house by 5 and I almost took part of the day off work so I could be home when they got there. But then I remembered they would NEVER be there by 5. They got to my house at 1:00 a.m. Yes, EIGHT HOURS LATE. They only live a 6 hour drive from me. And if they tell me they need to be on the road by 9 a.m., I know they'll leave my house by 2 p.m. or 3 p.m. They are always many hours behind. And if I had a party scheduled when they were staying with me I can promise you y'all would show up at my house and I'd still be in my pajamas with my hair up in a scrunchy bun on top of my head wearing my fuzzy bedroom shoes and cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast and I would have no party stuff ready even if the party started at 3. Another time they were here we had plans to go somewhere around 10:00 a.m. and we finally left for the activity at 4:00 p.m. and then we were late getting to a dinner that night. I wish I was exaggerating this even a little bit but I am not. Again, I love them to pieces but sticking to a schedule is not on their list of strong points.
So if y'all do want to have a birthday party, I'm all for it even with fake kids. But it would need to be on July 20th and not the 13th. But if y'all don't want to party like it's 1999, just let me know. Maybe we could convince June to come though......
Okay. So about my feet. What? Fake kids, party talk and feet all in one post? Why yes.
I just had to stop talking to y'all to work on a document for my boss so that just cut into my blogging time and I might STILL not finish this post before I have to leave work.
Like our favorite blogger, June, I have the feet problem. The plantar fascias or however the heck you spell it. I got it from teaching at the paint studio where I stood and walked on concrete floors and a plywood stage for hours and hours several nights a week for 5 years. When I broke my humerus last year, I had to stop working there. I also wore some super unattractive shoes because I was trying to wear rubber soled shoes so I wouldn't fall and break something else and to try and help my feet which were always in excruciating pain. And one night I was putting on these ugly ass shoes and I flipped one of them over on its side and fell anyway. My bed was right there so I flung out my good arm to catch myself. But I forgot my bed frame was on wheels and I had hardwood floors so my bed started quickly flying across the floor as I screamed and then flopped myself down on my face on the bed and right on my horribly broken arm because that seemed like a better option than falling on my face all the way down on the floor. And when I went to the doctor that week (I had to go every single week for about 2 months - SUCKED) and they x-rayed my arm, the doc said, "it looks like your bone pieces moved a little this week." And I replied, "could that possibly be from when I fell on my face a few days ago? Again." And he said it would be best if I could stay on my feet and stop falling on my face. Which, how did he get so smart? They must have taught him that in fancy medical school. Anyway, this was supposed to be about my feet and not about me trying to break my face.
So I wore those ugly ass shoes for almost 9 months straight while I recovered and I stopped walking and standing on concrete and plywood for 20+ hours per week and lo and behold my feet didn't hurt every single day. Only sometimes. And then my dad died and my brother and I had to clean out his house and then I broke my wrist and got whiplash so I was still not working at the studio because I was dealing with other crap. And suddenly I realized my feet hardly ever hurt anymore. And angels sang. Because y'all the pain from this foot stuff is unbelievable.
But then my fake kids came and I've been trying to show them around Atlanta and some of the cool stuff we have here. Two or three weeks ago I took them to Stone Mountain Park to the laser show. And even though we got there 3 hours before it started, the parking lots were full and we had to walk approximately 94753945794 miles. And I stupidly wore flip flops and I have been in tears for the past several weeks trying to walk. It's actually been the worst it's ever been. I've had to hold onto the walls in my house because I've felt like I was going to fall my feet hurt so much.
So now I'm back in my ugly ass shoes trying to fix my feet again. So if we have a party I will try to wear cute shoes that day but I might be in my ugly ass shoes.
Then my neck started hurting really bad again. I had a massage at the chiropractor and it feels even worse from that. Then I slammed my good arm into a door knob two days ago and it's bruised so bad I could cry every single time I touch it. And my shoulder that was hurt last year when I broke my arm is hurting again from some of the physical therapy I'm doing for my wrist. And my entire left calf hurts from walking weird because my feet are so hurt-y.
And I hate everything.
And I have to leave work right now so I have to end this post. I will try to sneak in some more blogging this weekend if my fake kids are doing something else. I have plans Sunday morning to meet some friends for brunch, but that's all I have planned. And the angels sang because I might get to sit on my ass and rest for a minute.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
My life is the same as the last time I wrote.....crazy as crap.
Well, it's time for me to admit something. I need to stop the Music Monday contest until I can get my crap together enough to post more regularly. I can't blog at home right now because of the two fake kids I have. I can't have them finding out about my blog. And work has been crazy busy and I haven't had time to write up a post here. I need my job to pay for the house that keeps falling apart (yes, something else is going wrong with my house - more on that in a minute) and pay for higher utilities, etc. while I have temporary fake kids so I can't get in trouble at work by blogging. I even spend my lunch hours doing stupid stuff like chiropractor visits, making calls for the kids to figure out stuff, etc. So I'm going to put Music Monday on hiatus. And this post is going to be short and quick because I am busy, busy, busy and I have to stampede to physical therapy in 10 minutes (so ignore all the typos I'm sure you will find).
Before I forget, do y'all want to have the Third Annual Atlanta Satellite Birthday Party for June at my house? I'd love to do it! But here's the thing. Her birthday is the 13th, right? I have my younger brother's family in town that weekend (2 adults and 2 MORE KIDS) and I can handle quite a bit: I've handled working full-time while having a humerus broken in 4 places, I've lived in a house during major construction, I survived 10 years with my crappy ex-husband, and I'm currently surviving parenting two fake kids and a geriatric cat with chronic diarrhea , but I'm scared I would crumble into a heaping pile of crying if I had two fake kids, a family of 4 staying in my house and a party to throw all in the same day. Could we do it either the weekend before or the weekend after? I'm guessing the weekend after would be better because the weekend before is kind of close to July 4th and people may have plans. I will probably still have two fake kids, but the girl one normally works on Saturdays and the boy one would probably be completely terrified of a house full of women and would most likely stay in his room all day and ignore us (and it's okay because he seems to enjoy staying in his room and ignoring me unless he's eating everything he can get his hands on, making a mess somewhere in my house or needs me to drive him somewhere). There is also a VERY slight chance my mom may be in town that weekend but she would love to meet y'all and I can put her to work
Speaking of physical therapy (I was two paragraphs ago so try to keep up), guess who I saw last week at therapy? No, it's not a celebrity even though my therapy place treats the professional Atlanta soccer team and Broadway dancers (not that I would know any Broadway dancers if I saw any). I saw Google maps dude! I was squeezing something or stretching something or, you know, something, and I heard a guy next to me say, "HEY!!! How are you? I remember you!" And I looked and said, "HEY! I remember you too! Look at us - both back in therapy again!" We chatted off and on throughout our session (he and his wife are expecting their first baby any day now) and suddenly I found myself asking, "so, is your Google maps picture as awful as you thought it would be?" And he said, "huh?" For a minute I thought I was losing my mind but I asked him if he wasn't the guy with the boob sweat, NASCAR hat, tool belt wearing Google maps photo and he exclaimed, "YES!! That is me! And it's truly awful. But it will only be on the internet for 4 more years!" And then he proceeded to walk behind the counter with one of the therapists so he could pull the photo up and show it to me. Y'all, it is the most hysterical thing I've ever seen on Google maps. And yes, I made a mental note of his address and I pulled it up here at work a couple of days later when I was having a bad day and it made me laugh all over again. And no, I'm not going to tell y'all his address here on my blog for you to see it because that would be a super crappy thing of me to do, but if you come to the birthday party I will try to remember to show it to you at my house.
Did I tell y'all two of my bathtubs have started leaking in the past couple of weeks? Yes, my house still hates me and also thinks I have a money tree growing in the back yard to keep paying to fix crap that breaks every single time I turn around. Also, a shelf in my refrigeratore fell apart last weekend when the girl fake child was opening a drawer. That shelf is probably tired of getting such a workout with as much as these kids eat. And do you know what she said, "I'm hungry. Can't you fix that after we eat?" as I was trying to fix the shelf that she knocked apart. If looks could kill......
And crap, I now have to fly out of here to get to therapy and I promise I will try to finish this post tomorrow. I have so much more to tell.....don't those of you not on facebook with me want to hear about how I found two gnawed up ribs and an empty condom box in the street in front of my house last night? Okay, well, that's pretty much the whole story. But I have more stories from the past two weeks. Like how someone got shot a block from my office today while I was at lunch. And my feet. A story about my feet. Riveting stuff.
Before I forget, do y'all want to have the Third Annual Atlanta Satellite Birthday Party for June at my house? I'd love to do it! But here's the thing. Her birthday is the 13th, right? I have my younger brother's family in town that weekend (2 adults and 2 MORE KIDS) and I can handle quite a bit: I've handled working full-time while having a humerus broken in 4 places, I've lived in a house during major construction, I survived 10 years with my crappy ex-husband, and I'm currently surviving parenting two fake kids and a geriatric cat with chronic diarrhea , but I'm scared I would crumble into a heaping pile of crying if I had two fake kids, a family of 4 staying in my house and a party to throw all in the same day. Could we do it either the weekend before or the weekend after? I'm guessing the weekend after would be better because the weekend before is kind of close to July 4th and people may have plans. I will probably still have two fake kids, but the girl one normally works on Saturdays and the boy one would probably be completely terrified of a house full of women and would most likely stay in his room all day and ignore us (and it's okay because he seems to enjoy staying in his room and ignoring me unless he's eating everything he can get his hands on, making a mess somewhere in my house or needs me to drive him somewhere). There is also a VERY slight chance my mom may be in town that weekend but she would love to meet y'all and I can put her to work
Speaking of physical therapy (I was two paragraphs ago so try to keep up), guess who I saw last week at therapy? No, it's not a celebrity even though my therapy place treats the professional Atlanta soccer team and Broadway dancers (not that I would know any Broadway dancers if I saw any). I saw Google maps dude! I was squeezing something or stretching something or, you know, something, and I heard a guy next to me say, "HEY!!! How are you? I remember you!" And I looked and said, "HEY! I remember you too! Look at us - both back in therapy again!" We chatted off and on throughout our session (he and his wife are expecting their first baby any day now) and suddenly I found myself asking, "so, is your Google maps picture as awful as you thought it would be?" And he said, "huh?" For a minute I thought I was losing my mind but I asked him if he wasn't the guy with the boob sweat, NASCAR hat, tool belt wearing Google maps photo and he exclaimed, "YES!! That is me! And it's truly awful. But it will only be on the internet for 4 more years!" And then he proceeded to walk behind the counter with one of the therapists so he could pull the photo up and show it to me. Y'all, it is the most hysterical thing I've ever seen on Google maps. And yes, I made a mental note of his address and I pulled it up here at work a couple of days later when I was having a bad day and it made me laugh all over again. And no, I'm not going to tell y'all his address here on my blog for you to see it because that would be a super crappy thing of me to do, but if you come to the birthday party I will try to remember to show it to you at my house.
Did I tell y'all two of my bathtubs have started leaking in the past couple of weeks? Yes, my house still hates me and also thinks I have a money tree growing in the back yard to keep paying to fix crap that breaks every single time I turn around. Also, a shelf in my refrigeratore fell apart last weekend when the girl fake child was opening a drawer. That shelf is probably tired of getting such a workout with as much as these kids eat. And do you know what she said, "I'm hungry. Can't you fix that after we eat?" as I was trying to fix the shelf that she knocked apart. If looks could kill......
And crap, I now have to fly out of here to get to therapy and I promise I will try to finish this post tomorrow. I have so much more to tell.....don't those of you not on facebook with me want to hear about how I found two gnawed up ribs and an empty condom box in the street in front of my house last night? Okay, well, that's pretty much the whole story. But I have more stories from the past two weeks. Like how someone got shot a block from my office today while I was at lunch. And my feet. A story about my feet. Riveting stuff.
Monday, June 3, 2013
My finger is getting quite the workout and should be in excellent shape soon.
Do y'all want to play Music Monday again? We'll start back today but I'll get to it in a bit.
Lemme tell y'all about my exciting weekend first. Okay, let me tell you about my pretty normal and not very interesting weekend. Because it wasn't really all that exciting.
Well, let's not do that first. Let's talk about something else for a minute.
Why no, I've never been diagnosed with ADHD. Why would you even wonder such a thing?
FIRST, let's talk about this: how do you parents do this for years and years and years? These are not even my kids and they're grown enough that I don't have to change diapers or anything like that (they're 18 and 21 - I don't need to change diapers, right? 'Cause I haven't been doing that but I'm brand new at parenting) but I'm completely exhausted y'all! And why are kids so damned messy? I now totally understand when people say they can't have nice things because they have kids. Between the two temporary kids I have and a geriatric cat with stomach issues, I feel like I clean every single second I'm not at work or asleep. Or in physical therapy. Or at the chiropractor. Or driving the kids to Target or Walmart or the grocery store or to drop them off at the train station or to pick them up at the train station or to take them to church or to take them to a job interview. My word. How do y'all do this and not give them away after a little while? I've only been doing it for 5.5 weeks and I feel like I need an entire year of solitude and vacation.
They bought a car. But they haven't gotten it insured or registered yet. And the girl has been waiting on her international drivers license which I never knew existed until I called around to find out what they have to do and what documentation they need to get a license here. One day last week while I was at work they decided to go get groceries which I appreciate, but they drove their car to the store. With no valid license. No insurance. And no registration. Oh I yelled. I waved my finger in their faces (that's a parent thing I should be doing a lot of, right?). And I told them if they get arrested I will let their butts sit in jail and rot there because I can't afford to bail them out. And I told them to enjoy their flight back to Brazil when they get deported. (That's something y'all probably can't use to threaten your kids but I'm using it to my advantage. See? I'm learning this parenting thing rather quickly!) Actually, we all kind of got a big laugh out of it and they thought I was hilarious when I was yelling at them and telling them they would get arrested and I'd leave them in jail and that they'd probably get deported. But they got the message. They won't drive the car again until it's legal.
They actually are really good kids, but they are keeping me busy, busy, busy (I put that in on the off chance June is reading so she can love me). And I was already busy, busy, busy enough on my own. What are some good vitamins for energy? Because I need to swallow them by the truckload every morning.
So our weekend was not the most exciting. I had physical therapy after work on Friday night because I know how to have a good time. Unfortunately, she said I should not have stopped wearing my splint/brace thing all cold turkey like I did even though my doctor told me I could, but she bartered with me. I don't have to wear it while I'm working so that I can type, but I have to wear it all of the other time. Like when I'm driving those kids all over Atlanta. And wagging my finger in their faces and yelling and threatening them with deportation.
After PT, I went for an hour of solitude and got a pedicure. And I didn't fall down afterwards and break anything. A girl came in the salon 15 minutes after they officially closed (I was done but sitting there waiting for my toes to dry and they were still finishing up a lot of other people). They agreed to take her for a mani and pedi even though they were closed and where do you think they had her sit? Right beside me. That's how I came to hear her getting all snippy with the girl who was starting on her pedi by telling her to go find someone to start her mani RIGHT NOW because she needed to be somewhere and they were taking too long. I got up and left at that point so that I didn't punch her in her junk and get put in jail where I would rot for a while and then get deported to Brazil. (I think jail threats should be fair and work both ways between temporary parents and temporary children.)
My female child has a job as a nanny and she had to work on Saturday. So my male child and I cleaned. ALL DAY because kids make houses messy. Were y'all all aware of this? I spent almost half the day just on my kitchen. They cook but let's just say they are not the neatest cooks on planet earth. And I appreciate them emptying the dishwasher (after some finger wagging on my part and me explaining to them that I didn't actually give birth to them, that I'm giving them a free place to stay, and that they are not paying me to be their maid), etc. but I'm constantly trying to figure out where they have put stuff so I went through cabinets putting things back where they belong and I completely straightened the pantry because they just throw everything on one shelf all on top of everything else and it was MAKING ME BATSHIT CRAZY. Especially since my pantry has a french door so you can't hide it when it's messy.
So we cleaned all day.
On Sunday I went to a brunch baby shower. One of my bosses and his wife are expecting their first baby at the end of the month. So I went and hung out at a baby shower with a whole bunch of attorneys and their spouses. It was fun since I don't spend all day every day hanging out with attorneys or anything.
Then I came home and had a headache so I laid down for 45 minutes. The kids and I went to church last night. The church gave us free popsicles to celebrate the beginning of summer because I go to a super cool church. They are from a gourmet popsicle maker called King of Pops and the kids missed the part on the sign that said the chocolate ones had sea salt in them. And boy were they surprised when they bit into their pops. The girl child (I have to come up with better blog names for them) liked it after she ate for a while and got used to it. The boy child hated it. Apparently Brazilians do not mix chocolate and salt. Because they are not as cool as us.
Then we went out for bar-b-q because I've been craving it for about 3 weeks (no I'm not pregnant. I get my children when they are grown already. Are you paying attention at all?)
So yeah. That was the exciting weekend.
Let's get to Music Monday now! This week's theme is as follows: The songs you submit must be related to parenting. I have a couple in mind already but let's see what y'all can come up with.
Lemme tell y'all about my exciting weekend first. Okay, let me tell you about my pretty normal and not very interesting weekend. Because it wasn't really all that exciting.
Well, let's not do that first. Let's talk about something else for a minute.
Why no, I've never been diagnosed with ADHD. Why would you even wonder such a thing?
FIRST, let's talk about this: how do you parents do this for years and years and years? These are not even my kids and they're grown enough that I don't have to change diapers or anything like that (they're 18 and 21 - I don't need to change diapers, right? 'Cause I haven't been doing that but I'm brand new at parenting) but I'm completely exhausted y'all! And why are kids so damned messy? I now totally understand when people say they can't have nice things because they have kids. Between the two temporary kids I have and a geriatric cat with stomach issues, I feel like I clean every single second I'm not at work or asleep. Or in physical therapy. Or at the chiropractor. Or driving the kids to Target or Walmart or the grocery store or to drop them off at the train station or to pick them up at the train station or to take them to church or to take them to a job interview. My word. How do y'all do this and not give them away after a little while? I've only been doing it for 5.5 weeks and I feel like I need an entire year of solitude and vacation.
They bought a car. But they haven't gotten it insured or registered yet. And the girl has been waiting on her international drivers license which I never knew existed until I called around to find out what they have to do and what documentation they need to get a license here. One day last week while I was at work they decided to go get groceries which I appreciate, but they drove their car to the store. With no valid license. No insurance. And no registration. Oh I yelled. I waved my finger in their faces (that's a parent thing I should be doing a lot of, right?). And I told them if they get arrested I will let their butts sit in jail and rot there because I can't afford to bail them out. And I told them to enjoy their flight back to Brazil when they get deported. (That's something y'all probably can't use to threaten your kids but I'm using it to my advantage. See? I'm learning this parenting thing rather quickly!) Actually, we all kind of got a big laugh out of it and they thought I was hilarious when I was yelling at them and telling them they would get arrested and I'd leave them in jail and that they'd probably get deported. But they got the message. They won't drive the car again until it's legal.
They actually are really good kids, but they are keeping me busy, busy, busy (I put that in on the off chance June is reading so she can love me). And I was already busy, busy, busy enough on my own. What are some good vitamins for energy? Because I need to swallow them by the truckload every morning.
So our weekend was not the most exciting. I had physical therapy after work on Friday night because I know how to have a good time. Unfortunately, she said I should not have stopped wearing my splint/brace thing all cold turkey like I did even though my doctor told me I could, but she bartered with me. I don't have to wear it while I'm working so that I can type, but I have to wear it all of the other time. Like when I'm driving those kids all over Atlanta. And wagging my finger in their faces and yelling and threatening them with deportation.
After PT, I went for an hour of solitude and got a pedicure. And I didn't fall down afterwards and break anything. A girl came in the salon 15 minutes after they officially closed (I was done but sitting there waiting for my toes to dry and they were still finishing up a lot of other people). They agreed to take her for a mani and pedi even though they were closed and where do you think they had her sit? Right beside me. That's how I came to hear her getting all snippy with the girl who was starting on her pedi by telling her to go find someone to start her mani RIGHT NOW because she needed to be somewhere and they were taking too long. I got up and left at that point so that I didn't punch her in her junk and get put in jail where I would rot for a while and then get deported to Brazil. (I think jail threats should be fair and work both ways between temporary parents and temporary children.)
My female child has a job as a nanny and she had to work on Saturday. So my male child and I cleaned. ALL DAY because kids make houses messy. Were y'all all aware of this? I spent almost half the day just on my kitchen. They cook but let's just say they are not the neatest cooks on planet earth. And I appreciate them emptying the dishwasher (after some finger wagging on my part and me explaining to them that I didn't actually give birth to them, that I'm giving them a free place to stay, and that they are not paying me to be their maid), etc. but I'm constantly trying to figure out where they have put stuff so I went through cabinets putting things back where they belong and I completely straightened the pantry because they just throw everything on one shelf all on top of everything else and it was MAKING ME BATSHIT CRAZY. Especially since my pantry has a french door so you can't hide it when it's messy.
So we cleaned all day.
On Sunday I went to a brunch baby shower. One of my bosses and his wife are expecting their first baby at the end of the month. So I went and hung out at a baby shower with a whole bunch of attorneys and their spouses. It was fun since I don't spend all day every day hanging out with attorneys or anything.
Then I came home and had a headache so I laid down for 45 minutes. The kids and I went to church last night. The church gave us free popsicles to celebrate the beginning of summer because I go to a super cool church. They are from a gourmet popsicle maker called King of Pops and the kids missed the part on the sign that said the chocolate ones had sea salt in them. And boy were they surprised when they bit into their pops. The girl child (I have to come up with better blog names for them) liked it after she ate for a while and got used to it. The boy child hated it. Apparently Brazilians do not mix chocolate and salt. Because they are not as cool as us.
Then we went out for bar-b-q because I've been craving it for about 3 weeks (no I'm not pregnant. I get my children when they are grown already. Are you paying attention at all?)
So yeah. That was the exciting weekend.
Let's get to Music Monday now! This week's theme is as follows: The songs you submit must be related to parenting. I have a couple in mind already but let's see what y'all can come up with.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Surprise! It's a girl and a boy!
Wow. How do I possibly catch up on all that has happened since I last posted. ON MARCH 8TH!!
I will do my best. Go get something to drink because I have a feeling this will be wordy. I'm only going to discuss the big things that have happened. Trust me. It's been a big thing type of couple of months.
On March 13th at 3:00 a.m. I was really, really thirsty. I didn't want to turn on the bright light and get really, really awake when I walked downstairs to get some water. So I walked down the stairs with my cell phone to light the way. I made it to the landing just fine. As I started to step down on the very last step, my cat came flying past me and broke my concentration just enough that I fell. I broke my wrist. I sprained my middle back. I got whiplash to the point that for two days I was unable to hold my head up and then I fell asleep with a heating pad on it and blistered my neck. I now have two of the most spectacularly stupid broken arm stories to tell at parties: "Well, you see - one February I tripped over my flip flop in a crack in the sidewalk after a pedicure, flew headfirst into the front door of the Five Guys Burgers I was walking past, broke my humerus in 4 places, went by bumpy ambulance to the hospital and spent a total of almost 9 months in body braces, casts, slings, and physical therapy. Then 5 months later my cat made me fall down a step and break the same arm but in a different place, sprain my back and get whiplash." I went to my cute neighbor girl's birthday party/annual crawfish boil at the end of March and people who had been there last year said, "Um, weren't you in a cast at this party last year?" YES! YES, I WAS annoying observant people with good memories.....
So I was in a cast for a month. Then I was in a splint for a month and now I have to wear the splint for the next month only when I lift something or if it's bothering me. (I didn't blog because after typing with mostly one hand all day at work, I was not up for typing an entire blog post. Plus I'm not good at blogging regularly.) I now go to the chiropractor 2 or 3 times per week. And I now go to physical therapy 2 times per week. I feel like I'm 120 years old and everything is falling apart. I'm going to the same physical therapist I went to last year. Yes, she laughed at me a little bit for being back so soon. Then she analyzed and evaluated my wrist and hand and told me we have a lot more work to do than I expected she was going to tell me I needed. She compared my broken side with the non-broken one and just as an example, with my right hand I could squeeze 78 lbs of pressure. My left? 28 pounds. And she measured angles of how far I could bend both hands. One of them was 50 degrees on my right hand and only 15 degrees on the left. Oh boy.
Two days after I broke my wrist, my office was moved to our post-remodel floor. So someone had to pack my entire desk up for me and he loved me so bad it hurt. Not as much as my wrist, back and neck hurt though. But I could feel the love oozing from his pores because he had to pack up my stuff.
Then he had to unpack it all at my new desk. And I could see cute little puffy hearts floating in the air above his head because his love for me was so great.
I finally got my car all fixed. I know you've all been waiting on the edge of your seats to hear about that. $1,400. I don't even want to talk about it because that dollar amount makes me want to sob, so you're off the hook hearing all the boring car stuff.
Then I hosted the Atlanta Pie Peeps at my house in April (some of you probably already saw the photos on June's blog) and I got to see Tee, Sadie, Fay and we met the lovely, sweet, awesome PJ and I honestly felt like I had known her for all my life. One of my friends came and joined us and she loved everyone. And thankfully my geriatric cat with chronic tummy issues didn't do anything embarassing during the party. Poor Tee was suffering from horrible allergies and she stole one of my spoons y'all. You should not invite Thief Tee to your house. She just helps herself to your silverware. Ha! It accidentally got stuck in her dish she brought and she boxed it up nicely and delivered it back to my front porch in a matter of a couple of days which she totally didn't have to do. But Tee is a sweet lady.
Five days after the Pie party, I inherited a couple of kids.
Y'all, this is SUCH a crazy and involved and long story and it's not my place to explain it all here on my blog, but Hot Brazilian thought he would be back here by now and two of his kids moved here but he's still stuck in the jungle so they have been staying at my house for almost a month. And they don't know the extent of just how close and involved Hot Brazilian and I are so they think we are just friends. And Fay is now not a fan of HB so I told her we need to go out to dinner so I can tell her the whole story so she won't dislike him because it really isn't his fault. He is one of the most awesome people on the planet and I know this all sounds so insane. Because it IS insane. And I'm, um, you know, um....adjusting to some major changes in my life. Fay! Call me! Seriously, I want to have dinner just so we can hang out together, but I also don't want you to think poorly of HB.
I'm teaching them all about American culture. I'm helping them look at schools, find jobs, taking them to job interviews, helping them buy a car (no, I'm not paying, just teaching them how to buy one here), how to get a drivers license, car registration, car insurance, looking for apartments, how to clean when you don't live in a concrete building and can't just throw water all over the walls and floor and watch it go down a drain (they had never vacuumed and didn't even know what a mop was. HA!), and basically everything else they need to know to establish a life here in the U.S. And do y'all know what? I AM EXHAUSTED. Between that, working full-time, physical therapy, chiropractor visits, the five commissioned paintings I am supposed to be doing, and not being able to run around my house with no bra on, I am worn slap out.
And my mom and an aunt came and stayed with us for a few days too. So naturally that's when one of my water heaters broke. A guy came out while it was pouring rain to fix it so that's how I also found out my crawl space has been flooding during heavy rainstorms. So then I suddenly found myself hiring him to put some flashing on my deck, re-route some gutters, and before I knew it, told him to go ahead and completely refinish my deck while he was at it. He got my water heater re-lit. My mom took a shower and then it broke again. So then I hired him to replace some parts on the water heater.
And then my one-year-old stupid expensive stove broke.
I came home Monday night, walked in the front door and it was sparking, clicking, beeping, numbers were flashing, etc. And the girl child I suddenly inherited was cooking on it like it was okay. Argh! I screamed at her to turn it off, called Jenn-Air, got flustered with the sweet southern accented lady who told me to pull off the decorative plate under the oven, crawl on my hands and knees (I was still in my maxi dress that I have accidentally stepped on resulting in me having flashed a security guard at work while wearing it and I was crawling around on the floor in it, sweating profusely, with this annoying non-stop beeping going on and with an 18-year-old boy in the room watching me) and try to read the smallest writing in the world on a label way back halfway under the stove where it was dark, then she asked me if I could look at my registration card (who the hell knows where that is?), find my receipt to get some information off of it, try to flip the breaker off, leave it off for 30 seconds and turn it back on and then argued with me when I told her it was still beeping and the screen on the stove didn't say what she said it should, so I got snippy with her, held the phone down to the stove so she could hear the stupidly annoying BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I had been listening to for 30 minutes by that time, and I hated everyone and everything. She finally said, flip the breaker off and we'll get a service rep out there. THANK YOU ANNOYING SOUTHERN ACCENT LADY!
Yesterday the stove worked perfectly.
But I kept the service call scheduled for this morning. He said a couple of parts need to be replaced but naturally they have to be ordered and I have to have another service call in a couple of weeks but the good news is my stove is apparently not going to blow my house up.
He left and then as I was driving to work a guy called and said he would be at my house shortly to fix my stove. And I said, "oh, the parts are available today?" And he said, "Huh?" We eventually figured out they scheduled two different people to come fix my stove. I must have been snippier than I thought and that poor lady on the phone wanted to be absolutely sure I got my stove looked at!
That should catch you up on the bigger things that have been happening in my life.
How are all of you? I do still plan to do Music Monday again. Maybe this next week!
I will do my best. Go get something to drink because I have a feeling this will be wordy. I'm only going to discuss the big things that have happened. Trust me. It's been a big thing type of couple of months.
On March 13th at 3:00 a.m. I was really, really thirsty. I didn't want to turn on the bright light and get really, really awake when I walked downstairs to get some water. So I walked down the stairs with my cell phone to light the way. I made it to the landing just fine. As I started to step down on the very last step, my cat came flying past me and broke my concentration just enough that I fell. I broke my wrist. I sprained my middle back. I got whiplash to the point that for two days I was unable to hold my head up and then I fell asleep with a heating pad on it and blistered my neck. I now have two of the most spectacularly stupid broken arm stories to tell at parties: "Well, you see - one February I tripped over my flip flop in a crack in the sidewalk after a pedicure, flew headfirst into the front door of the Five Guys Burgers I was walking past, broke my humerus in 4 places, went by bumpy ambulance to the hospital and spent a total of almost 9 months in body braces, casts, slings, and physical therapy. Then 5 months later my cat made me fall down a step and break the same arm but in a different place, sprain my back and get whiplash." I went to my cute neighbor girl's birthday party/annual crawfish boil at the end of March and people who had been there last year said, "Um, weren't you in a cast at this party last year?" YES! YES, I WAS annoying observant people with good memories.....
So I was in a cast for a month. Then I was in a splint for a month and now I have to wear the splint for the next month only when I lift something or if it's bothering me. (I didn't blog because after typing with mostly one hand all day at work, I was not up for typing an entire blog post. Plus I'm not good at blogging regularly.) I now go to the chiropractor 2 or 3 times per week. And I now go to physical therapy 2 times per week. I feel like I'm 120 years old and everything is falling apart. I'm going to the same physical therapist I went to last year. Yes, she laughed at me a little bit for being back so soon. Then she analyzed and evaluated my wrist and hand and told me we have a lot more work to do than I expected she was going to tell me I needed. She compared my broken side with the non-broken one and just as an example, with my right hand I could squeeze 78 lbs of pressure. My left? 28 pounds. And she measured angles of how far I could bend both hands. One of them was 50 degrees on my right hand and only 15 degrees on the left. Oh boy.
Two days after I broke my wrist, my office was moved to our post-remodel floor. So someone had to pack my entire desk up for me and he loved me so bad it hurt. Not as much as my wrist, back and neck hurt though. But I could feel the love oozing from his pores because he had to pack up my stuff.
Then he had to unpack it all at my new desk. And I could see cute little puffy hearts floating in the air above his head because his love for me was so great.
I finally got my car all fixed. I know you've all been waiting on the edge of your seats to hear about that. $1,400. I don't even want to talk about it because that dollar amount makes me want to sob, so you're off the hook hearing all the boring car stuff.
Then I hosted the Atlanta Pie Peeps at my house in April (some of you probably already saw the photos on June's blog) and I got to see Tee, Sadie, Fay and we met the lovely, sweet, awesome PJ and I honestly felt like I had known her for all my life. One of my friends came and joined us and she loved everyone. And thankfully my geriatric cat with chronic tummy issues didn't do anything embarassing during the party. Poor Tee was suffering from horrible allergies and she stole one of my spoons y'all. You should not invite Thief Tee to your house. She just helps herself to your silverware. Ha! It accidentally got stuck in her dish she brought and she boxed it up nicely and delivered it back to my front porch in a matter of a couple of days which she totally didn't have to do. But Tee is a sweet lady.
Five days after the Pie party, I inherited a couple of kids.
Y'all, this is SUCH a crazy and involved and long story and it's not my place to explain it all here on my blog, but Hot Brazilian thought he would be back here by now and two of his kids moved here but he's still stuck in the jungle so they have been staying at my house for almost a month. And they don't know the extent of just how close and involved Hot Brazilian and I are so they think we are just friends. And Fay is now not a fan of HB so I told her we need to go out to dinner so I can tell her the whole story so she won't dislike him because it really isn't his fault. He is one of the most awesome people on the planet and I know this all sounds so insane. Because it IS insane. And I'm, um, you know, um....adjusting to some major changes in my life. Fay! Call me! Seriously, I want to have dinner just so we can hang out together, but I also don't want you to think poorly of HB.
I'm teaching them all about American culture. I'm helping them look at schools, find jobs, taking them to job interviews, helping them buy a car (no, I'm not paying, just teaching them how to buy one here), how to get a drivers license, car registration, car insurance, looking for apartments, how to clean when you don't live in a concrete building and can't just throw water all over the walls and floor and watch it go down a drain (they had never vacuumed and didn't even know what a mop was. HA!), and basically everything else they need to know to establish a life here in the U.S. And do y'all know what? I AM EXHAUSTED. Between that, working full-time, physical therapy, chiropractor visits, the five commissioned paintings I am supposed to be doing, and not being able to run around my house with no bra on, I am worn slap out.
And my mom and an aunt came and stayed with us for a few days too. So naturally that's when one of my water heaters broke. A guy came out while it was pouring rain to fix it so that's how I also found out my crawl space has been flooding during heavy rainstorms. So then I suddenly found myself hiring him to put some flashing on my deck, re-route some gutters, and before I knew it, told him to go ahead and completely refinish my deck while he was at it. He got my water heater re-lit. My mom took a shower and then it broke again. So then I hired him to replace some parts on the water heater.
And then my one-year-old stupid expensive stove broke.
I came home Monday night, walked in the front door and it was sparking, clicking, beeping, numbers were flashing, etc. And the girl child I suddenly inherited was cooking on it like it was okay. Argh! I screamed at her to turn it off, called Jenn-Air, got flustered with the sweet southern accented lady who told me to pull off the decorative plate under the oven, crawl on my hands and knees (I was still in my maxi dress that I have accidentally stepped on resulting in me having flashed a security guard at work while wearing it and I was crawling around on the floor in it, sweating profusely, with this annoying non-stop beeping going on and with an 18-year-old boy in the room watching me) and try to read the smallest writing in the world on a label way back halfway under the stove where it was dark, then she asked me if I could look at my registration card (who the hell knows where that is?), find my receipt to get some information off of it, try to flip the breaker off, leave it off for 30 seconds and turn it back on and then argued with me when I told her it was still beeping and the screen on the stove didn't say what she said it should, so I got snippy with her, held the phone down to the stove so she could hear the stupidly annoying BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I had been listening to for 30 minutes by that time, and I hated everyone and everything. She finally said, flip the breaker off and we'll get a service rep out there. THANK YOU ANNOYING SOUTHERN ACCENT LADY!
Yesterday the stove worked perfectly.
But I kept the service call scheduled for this morning. He said a couple of parts need to be replaced but naturally they have to be ordered and I have to have another service call in a couple of weeks but the good news is my stove is apparently not going to blow my house up.
He left and then as I was driving to work a guy called and said he would be at my house shortly to fix my stove. And I said, "oh, the parts are available today?" And he said, "Huh?" We eventually figured out they scheduled two different people to come fix my stove. I must have been snippier than I thought and that poor lady on the phone wanted to be absolutely sure I got my stove looked at!
That should catch you up on the bigger things that have been happening in my life.
How are all of you? I do still plan to do Music Monday again. Maybe this next week!
Friday, March 8, 2013
Seriously? Crazy stuff always happen to me, but this? This was the most surreal thing I think I've ever been through.
For the love of Pete, y’all. (I’ve always wondered who that poor Pete is that has his name used in that way.) This past two weeks have been insanely crazy. And I am only going to write for a certain length of time because I’m sneaking this post in from work while my boss is out for the afternoon, but two of the partners on my team have challenged each other to a rap battle at 5:00 and if you think I am missing that because of writing on my blog, you are crazier than I am. And then I have to leave immediately after that because I’ll be getting into overtime which is frowned upon. So if this post ends quite abruptly, you now know why.
Something happened last week that I never dreamed in a bazillion years I would be involved in. Some of you are already aware if you’re friends with me on Facebook or saw my comment on BBP.
But before I get to that, I will update you on things from my last post. First of all, I am still flipping sick. I cannot kick this cold or whatever the crap it is. This Sunday will be 3 weeks I have been hacking and wheezing. Everyone else who has had it says it lasts about a month. So hopefully I only have a week or so of it left.
And something else broke in my house, y'all. I fixed a broken toilet one Saturday afternoon. (The bowl would not fill with water so I jammed the hose down a tube thingie that it was supposed to be in and held it in place with some cardboard torn from a hair color box. Because I'm a girl plumber.) That Saturday night? My ice maker totally stopped making ice. I jiggled stuff. I banged on stuff. And I cursed at it. I read the manual. No help. I went online for advice. No help. My refrigerator is almost brand new. I bought it when I moved in my house 15 months ago. And suddenly 4 days later it started making ice again just as quickly as it had stopped.
And something else broke in my house, y'all. I fixed a broken toilet one Saturday afternoon. (The bowl would not fill with water so I jammed the hose down a tube thingie that it was supposed to be in and held it in place with some cardboard torn from a hair color box. Because I'm a girl plumber.) That Saturday night? My ice maker totally stopped making ice. I jiggled stuff. I banged on stuff. And I cursed at it. I read the manual. No help. I went online for advice. No help. My refrigerator is almost brand new. I bought it when I moved in my house 15 months ago. And suddenly 4 days later it started making ice again just as quickly as it had stopped.
My car is still not fixed because my mechanic cannot get the manufacturer to agree what part I exactly need and he said they have sent cartoon drawings back and forth, photos back and forth, and had about 3904789435034 phone calls about it. Therefore, I am driving only back and forth to work and I have not driven my car at all for the past 3 weekends so that I don’t make it any worse. Fun is what that is. And last week when I had my exciting and completely unexpected adventure of a lifetime, I took the train each day so I only put about six miles on my car all week because all I had to do was go to the station (it’s not safe to walk there in my ‘hood alone) and to the grocery store once.
The train. What a fun experience that was.
I had a construction worker try to put some moves on me. I had a total thug dude tell me he loved my scarf. Two babies on opposite sides of the tracks in the very echo-y below ground station had a screaming/crying competition one afternoon. People kept asking me about the train schedule because apparently I looked like I knew what I was doing. (I had no clue what I was doing or what the train schedules were other than the one I was on.) I gave a disabled guy some change so he could pay his fare. And a lady sang nursery songs the entire trip one morning. One evening, by the time I got home, I was about to pee all over myself. As I sat on the toilet extremely happy I made it in time, my cell phone rang in my pocket. It was my security alarm company. Apparently in my rush to get my alarm turned off so I could make it to the potty in time, I managed to set off a silent alarm. Ack! I’ve set my alarm off really loudly a couple of times, but I honestly did not even know I had a silent alarm. But I found out I did while sitting on the potty of all places.
So where was I going on the train? I left my office on Thursday, February 21st and told my bosses and my team that I would see them possibly Friday afternoon and if not, I’d definitely see them on Monday because I had jury duty but there was no possible way I’d get picked because I’ve had jury duty 345972340523-045 times and they never choose me. I work for a law firm and my brother is a cop. No attorneys ever want me on a jury.
Except this time they did. And this wasn’t just any case. No. It was an absolutely horrific case. An EXTREMELY violent murder case. I have to be honest, this case has impacted me in a huge way that has had me thinking about some really big things. And it has freaked me out quite a bit. I’ve been looking over my shoulder constantly for the past couple of weeks. I could not make myself sleep upstairs in my house until two days ago because I wanted to be able to hear any and all noises that might be happening outside. I know that sounds crazy, y’all. But I’ve been incredibly spooked and almost feel haunted by this case. And I’m not really ready to talk about it on here. I’ve been checking online and at this point I don’t see that this person has been transferred to a prison yet. And until I can see that online, I really don’t want to put any details on here that might possibly connect me to the case. And quite honestly, I might not ever talk about any details on here. Because he might be in custody, but everyone he knows is not.
Okay, it’s law partner rap battle time so I have to run. Hope you all have a fabulous weekend!
Do y’all miss Music Monday? Should we start it back up or was that kind of dumb to y’all?
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