On Your Mark, Get Set....

I'm sitting here like I'm waiting for the starter's gun to sound.  The new house is being "professionally cleaned" as I type.  As soon as they are done, I can start moving things in.  So far we've moved the patio furniture into the new yard and the new garage is filled with the items from the storage unit.  I hate that this process doesn't move along in an orderly fashion.  Ever since we bought the house back in May, we had the close date set at Friday, August 11th.  It felt written in stone.   But, in yet another moving/birth parallel, the close date became more like a due date, nothing more than an educated guess.  Originally, the house was going to be cleaned last Thursday so it would be all ready when we took possession on Friday.  But then we decided to resurface the wood floors and the current owner let us get the jump on that before the close date.  That was supposed to take until Friday.  No point in having the house cleaned before that sawdusty process was complete so it got pushed back til Monday.  But the floors were done on Thursday, and the house has just been sitting there empty and dirty all weekend.  I considered going in and at least cleaning the bonus room myself, but Ritu made me promise to wait.  I'm not good at waiting.  When there are things to be done, I want to jump in and work until it's done.  I don't want loose ends.  I don't want setbacks and for the love of God, I don't want to reschedule once the plan is made.  I want to go, get it done, and be done with it.  Knowing there was a mountain of work to do, but being powerless to do it is what kept me awake those nights last week.  The untapped adrenaline made my brain spin like a revving engine.  I remember feeling this same sort of frustration while planning our wedding.  All the visits with florists, all the invitations to consider, all the contingencies.  I just wanted to make a decision and MOVE FORWARD.  I like a process with an established  beginning and endpoint.  My satisfaction comes from a job clearly defined and cleanly executed.  But this is all old ground, isn't it?

 

Last night, we invited some friends and neighbors over to test out the fire pit in the back yard.  We made a fire (and when I say "we" I mean my friend Karen who used to be a Campfire Girl) and roasted marshmallows on poky metal skewers.  The kids all had a blast and nobody lost an eye.  Even though we were only in the back yard, it was the first time that the house really felt like mine.  I haven't quite wrapped my brain around the fact that we are planning to live in this house basically forever.  I haven't had long-term roots in a single community since I graduated from high school 22 years ago.  This city, this neighborhood, and this house feel right to us.   I'm going to keep one of those skewers to remember this feeling.  And in four years, when I get the itch to move again, I'm going to jab myself with it until the urge passes.

Digging My Way Out

We accepted an offer on our house today!  Povided that nothing major pops up during the inspection (I think I would've noticed a big hole in my roof, don't you?  Note: Don't email me about stealth roof holes you've had personal experience with.) we have sold our house.  This happened today-- also the closing date on our new house--nothing like taking it right to the wire.  To say I am feeling good wouldn't begin to describe it.   My stress has been manifesting itself in a number of physical ways: two nights of insomnia, lower back pain, and my jaw feels like I must be clenching it all night long.  While not sleeping.  I almost blogged at about 2 AM the other night but then realized that would be tantamount to drunken blogging and wisely decided against it. 

Today the kids and I moved two loads of stuff from our storage unit to the garage of the new house.  We had the wood floors re-surfaced and the house is being professionally cleaned on Monday so we can start the real moving process at that point.  Don't expect too much from me this week, but I'll do my best to get caught up soon.

Lame Excuses

Just a quick note to say that I haven't forgotten about all this  I'm swamped with pre-move crap and I'm so wiped out at the end of each day that I'm too tired to write. Also, I seem to have a sore throat.  

We close on the new house on Friday and are going to move on Thursday the 17th.  Still no takers on this house and I must admit I'm more than a little tired of playing the Have Your House On The Market game.  Send all your best house-selling vibes my way and I hope to get caught up on here soon.

Where Did This Child Come From?

The other day Juliana figured out how to use a clip to hold her blanket (which she calls dee-dee) around her shoulders like a cape.  From there she became Queen Juliana.  When it came time to write out a birthday card for her friend, this is what she wrote:

"I give this gift, this pleasant gift, to you Queen Hallie.  From Queen Juliana.'

One morning this week she busied herself quietly in the living room.  I went to check on her and found she had made a sign reading "Welcome to Funderland".  She had tickets to hand out and three games set up in the living room: a bowling game using plastic cups, a toss the ball in the ring game, and a putting green with a golf club she'd fashioned from tinker toys.  She even had a container of "prizes" to hand out after each game.  (Mine looked surprisingly like a small tinker toy, but she informed me that it was a tootsie roll.)

I don't know whose child she is.  Any real child of mine would be hiding her brother's special possessions and taunting him til he cried.  What's up with this creating fun and happiness for others crap? 

Cruise Review Part One

So!  I'm back from my cruise!  Didja miss me?  You know what I think the best part of a cruise is?  The anticipation!  All that daydreaming about lazily cruising past gorgeous scenery, sipping the drink of one's choice, relaxing with family and friends and waiting for the next delectable meal....doesn't that sound heavenly?  Yup, that's as good as it gets.  Right there.  In your mind.  The reality of a cruise is somewhat different.  I don't mean to bellyache or carp (oh, how I crack myself up!), so let's just say that I got the whole cruise thing out of my system.  There are many fun things about a cruise, but most of them don't really mesh with my personality.  For example, I don't like large crowds of people.  Or drinking until I pass out.  Or losing money in a smoky casino.  Oh, and then there's my phobia of deep water (Which I'm pretty sure started when I first saw this book cover.  And yes, the shark is scary, but what really freaked me out was how deep the water was.) 

We went on a Royal Caribbean cruise and the boat itself was fine.  Lots of things to do, lots to eat, helpful friendly staff, and even the stateroom wasn't oppressively small with all four of us in it.  And Alaska was certainly beautiful with many forested hills, waterfalls, and fog.  Lots and lots of the best Alaskan Fog.  Possibly there were other things to see besides forested hills.  Maybe some wildlife?  While we did see a handful of bald eagles mostly we saw....fog.  Low-lying fog, mountain-obscuring fog, unbelievably low-ceiling fog.  You know what they do when there's fog?  Blow the foghorn.  You know what my kids hate?  Loud noises.

For the most part, our land excursions were fun and were time and money well spent.  David caught a salmon, I went on a glorious whale watch (that will merit its own post), we rode a train from Skagway, Alaska up over a mountain pass and into Canada that was breathtaking (despite the fog), and had a chance to wander around Victoria, British Columbia. 

We only had 2 full days at sea during the week, but let me tell you something.  You hear all the time that a cruise ship is so big that you can't feel the motion.  It's so smooth, they say.  Like a gentle rocking motion if you feel it at all.   Those people are LYING BASTARDS.  The first night, we encountered seas technically classified as "rough".  This translated to the ship pretty much bouncing through the ocean at semi-regular heart-stopping intervals.  I spent most of the night clutching Ritu's arm and whisper-screaming "We're going to die", waiting for the distress alarm to inevitably sound, and mentally rehearsing the best way to pluck Juliana from her bunk, dress her in warm clothing and a life jacket, and stagger to our muster station.  (It didn't help that HBO practically had Titanic on a continuous loop reel this month.  Did I mention my deep water phobia?)  

By the grace of God, we made it through that night but awoke to the boat still a'rockin'.  Within ten minutes of awakening, Juliana started to cry because her stomach hurt and she she had "a bad taste in her mouth that she needed to spit out".  Thinking fast, I commanded her to Go To Daddy where she promptly threw up on his foot.  This was 14 hours into the cruise, people.

Seeing her throw up freaked out David.  I dosed everyone with Dramamine (Don't leave home without it!) and as the morning dragged on, they both perked up nicely.  The same could not be said for much of the rest of the ship.  Somewhere around lunchtime, we suddenly noticed that barf bags were now affixed in portable holders to railings on the stairs.  The rocking was slightly better in the center parts of the ship, so walking through the large Centrum area found every couch occupied by a figure curled in the fetal position, pale, with eyes squeezed shut. 

Just think.  Thousands of dollars spent for a ride from hell with no way out.  What could be better?  Ritu overheard one woman at the purser's desk demanding to be let off for good when we docked in Juneau.  Apparently international immigration laws don't allow you do that, even if you are an American citizen.  You can imagine how well that went over. 

Much more to say, but I'm way too tired.  Tomorrow I'll try for  a post that doesn't mention nausea or vomiting even once!

Tidbits

On Friday we're leaving for a week-long Alaskan cruise to celebrate Ritu's parents' 40th anniversary.  It's been in the works for months and months and the excitement level is high.  True to form, Juliana got sick today.  So far the symptoms are: headache, fever, and of course, stomach ache.  Does this child EVER get sick without it affecting her stomach? (I thought about linking you to the previous posts about Pukiana, but I don't have all damn day.)  I asked her if she wanted me to put the bucket next to her bed tonight and she said yes.  <sigh>  When you read in the news about a cruise ship overrun by the Norwalk Virus, remember you heard it here first! 

*****

I'm updating some links on my sidebar.  The Comics Curmudgeon is a blog devoted to the daily newspaper comic strips.  It's spot-on in its observations and consistently funny.  It's also one of those blogs whose faithful commenters add to the entertainment value.  Secondly is a blog called The Sapient Sutler which I've been  reading  for the better part of a year.  It's one I stumbled across by hitting the "next blog" button at Blogspot and I was instantly hooked.  You never know if the author, Chance, will be sharing a funny story from his work, making lists of his favorite poetry and music, or reflecting on the state of his personal life, but you can count on it always being literate and absorbing.

*****

We gave up on the For Sale By Owner adventure and have now signed with a realtor.  It had been our plan all along to turn things over to a professional if we hadn't sold it by this point,  but it's been a painful process nonetheless.  It turns out that we have amazing powers of which we weren't aware!  Why, for instance, as soon as we put our house on the market, things like this and this started to appear.  I can't even begin to tell you how much I hate trying to sell this house and how much I hate being at the mercy of buyers and realtors.  I'll save you paragraphs of my wah-wahing, but my hatred for humanity grows with each passing day.  (Oh, I am going to be an absolute joy crammed on that cruise ship with thousands of my closest friends.)

*****

My dear, sweet David is going through one of those disequilibrium phases that makes me consider boarding schools and retroactive birth control.  He just turned nine and he's perfecting his pre-adolescent posturing.  Because we're so enmeshed in eye-rolling, sarcasm, and general attitude, it catches me off guard when I see glimpses of  little-boy in him.  The other night, he got out of bed to report with the utmost sincerity and earnestness that he'd read in Sports Illustrated For Kids that Ben Roethlisberger has a DOG.

*****

I've been seeing these flocks of little birds at my suet feeder recently.  I'm pretty sure they're called bushtits, but you couldn't pay me to google that. 

*****

David went to Ritu's softball game last weekend.  It's co-ed team that's been a neighborhood tradition for nearly 15 years.  After the game David gave me a wide-eyed play by play which included this exchange:

David:  Daddy got a hit and went to first base and then he went to second when the next lady got balled all the way to first base. 

Me (trying not to howl): That's called getting walked.

Happy Birthday!

Sunday was Ritu's birthday.  We celebrated by spending the weekend in Seattle connecting with old friends and taking the kids to see the Mariners play the Tigers.  Much fun was had by all.  But since we were traveling, there was no opportunity for birthday cake.  And if you ask me, birthdays don't count unless there is cake involved.  In a pinch, an ice cream cake counts, but generally it requires cake with that good artificially colored lardelicious frosting that they make at grocery stores. 

To remedy this, I took the kids to Winco on Monday to get groceries and a cake.  Winco has the cheapest groceries in town.  It's a completely low budget store.  Their idea of shelving is cutting open the big carton the boxes of cereal come in and slapping it on the shelf.  Also, you bag your own groceries which always seems like a fine plan until it actually comes time to bag your own groceries.  Winco is open 24 hours, so we're not talking the Trader Joe's crowd here, people.  One thing I've noticed about shopping there is my tendency to sink to the lowest common denominator.  Yes, just walking through the door turns me (and my children) into white trash. 

During the glorious summer (current weather conditions: 62 degrees and raining), I am able to spend scads of quality time with my darling offspring.  Seeing as they are 9 and 6 now, a trip to the grocery store is no longer a big deal.  So why is it that I came closer to beating them right there in the cereal aisle than I ever have before? Part of that is the WWTF (Winco White Trash Factor) and  I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little edgy lately, but would it kill them to agree on ANYthing?  I had to make one of them walk in front of the cart and one behind so that they couldn't bicker or touch each other.  They irritated me to the point that I refused to let them engage in our favorite grocery shopping ritual of opening egg cartons until we find a broken egg. 

Somehow, we made it  to the bakery beating-free.  We selected a pre-made 1/4 sheet chocolate cake and I asked the bakery lady if she could write Happy Birthday Daddy on it.   She readily agreed and called the kids over to her work station where she squirted out samples of frosting so they could choose colors.  I leaned wearily on my cart and enjoyed a few rare moments of peace as I watched my children working together in harmony.  I felt so grateful to this kind stranger for providing me with this brief interlude.  She let the kids stay there while she piped the message in blue and yellow (Michigan colors!).  When she finished she replaced the plastic dome and looked up at me with a big smile, clearly seeking my approval. 

Stay in school, kids!