Memorial Day

I received such sad news last night. It seemed appropriate, given the tenor of the holiday, to ask y'all to keep a particular family in mind today.

As I wrote before, a couple we met on our honey moon has faced the battle of their lives over the past two and half years of their short marriage. I learned last night, sadly, that fight was over.
It's never right when a loved one is taken from us, but it seems particularly harsh to me that a couple married only weeks after us is no longer together.

As we remember all of those who have fallen in honor of our Country today, I ask that you just say a small prayer for this family as well.

Happy Memorial Day.

A Bed, A Sandwich and Manbug

I don't often delve into the various aspects of my husband's personality, but he did something yesterday that made me felt so proud and so lucky to have him as mine.

You see, he has a very forward, sometimes abrasive way about him. He sees things in black and white and doesn't hold back the truth. Sometimes, this offends people and I often have to remind him to temper his truthfulness. In other words, the answer to the question "Do I look fat in this" shouldn't always be "yes" for the sake of honesty - that kind of thing.

But he also has such a soft side, I'm often taken-aback by his kindness. A few weekends ago he was ensure that a property that he was putting on the market was left in good condition when it was vacated. While he was doing so, a few neighbors wandered over and started telling him horror stories about the former owner. I believe the guy was a scam artist at heart. One older woman told Manbug how the owner had sold her a bed and promised to come over to assemble it since she was entirely unable to do so by herself. Instead, he had deserted the property in the darkness of night and she was up the proverbial creek.

I was at home with a large Sunday lunch prepared, and was quite perturbed by Manbug's tardiness of over two hours - not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering his cell phone. Turns out, he was in the old lady's condominium assembling her bed and rearranging her furniture. I was just so touched by his willingness to help others - and I was proud. And my eyes filled up when he received an email from her telling him that he was a messenger of God. (I wouldn't go that far, but it was a nice gesture).

And I was proud again last night, but less so since it was diluted by hunger. We had just finished a bunch of errands for a property that needed appliances and light fixtures, and we had a long night of billing ahead of us. We stopped by Subway on the way home to grab some sandwiches and as we walked in, I spoke to the homeless woman that I often see in that strip mall. I asked how she was and she replied "Fine, but hungry." We entered the Subway, placed our order and Manbug asked that his foot long be split up and wrapped separately. (♫ ♫ ♫Five, Five, Five dollar foot long ♫ ♫ ♫).

I joked with him how he was putting on airs like he wasn't going to eat the whole thing (there have never been leftovers when he's around!) and he just nodded. The clerk put our order in two bags and we headed outside.

As we headed to our car, he promptly handed one of the bags to the homeless lady. She looked up from her book and her face lit up. "Now I've got a good romance novel and dinner. Thank you!" She looked happy. And I was happy.

Until I got in the car:

Me: You know, that was a sweet thing you did. But you gave her my sandwich.
Manbug: No I didn't, I asked the clerk to separate my sandwich into two parts.
Me: You did, but he put my sandwich in one bag, and your two parts in the other bag. We each had a personal bag.
Manbug: I don't think so.
Me: I know so, but it's okay because you heart was in the right place.
Manbug: We'll see when we get home.

Yep, we opened up the wrappings and there were the two halves of the Italian BMT with everything including jalapenos and olives (EWWWWW!) - not the turkey with cucumbers, peppers and mustard that I had ordered.

Manbug: Whoops. Are you mad?
Me: Seriously, how could I be? That would be the meanest reaction to what you did. You could wave down from heaven to me in hell if I felt that way. I'm proud of you, you're a kind person. But I'm still hungry.

So I had a bowl of ice cream for dinner and gave him a hug.

P.S. The "constant nausea" referred to the other day is NOT a pregnancy...more related to the fact that I totally carry stress in my stomach so when I'm upset or stressed or angry, I usually am nauseous and in the bathroom a LOT. But you guys are too funny!!!

Things I Learned at Target Yesterday

I know it seems like I'm "dialing it in" a bit, but I do want to keep my blog updated despite my constant nausea and inability to complete any task because of the thousand more "to dos" next in line. Nevertheless, I had to make a quick trip to Target yesterday and it was quite the experience. As such, I have a few more lessons to share:

• Regardless of how much your shoes hurt, it is NEVER okay to walk barefoot in a Target store.
• Even if you are carrying said shoes.
• Especially if you are dressed in business formal attire.
• I need to stop associating my trips to Target with a iced venti skinny vanilla latte because enjoying such refreshment inevitably leads to a rushed trip to the ladies' room with my cart full of purchases waiting patiently outside. (To pee by the way.)
• Nevertheless, this Target needs to get the cup holders that clip on to the side of the cart so that I don't lose my coffee three different times in one trip by putting it on the shelf near the sunglasses, or the shelf near the Tide, or the shelf near the t-shirts. It's embarrassing.
• I have to refrain from purchasing these shoes in every color: I already have them in pink and white. I want them in green, blue, gold, black and silver. Overkill? Maybe.
  
• Eventually everything I love goes on sale...so I just need to be patient. For example, a purse that I admired a long time ago was on sale for $9.98 yesterday. Who can say "no" to that? Not me!
• Given that it's only been two minutes from the last time you asked, and in fact, you are still in the process of checking out the same order, I still don't want to apply for a Target credit card.

Thing with the house are at a bit of a standstill. There was one issue about the house that caused it to be stricken from our list the first time we saw it - namely that it was zoned for new construction a few lots over from what would be our property line. The more we look into the issue, the more we realize that maybe they don't plan on building the nicest housing there and it's likely to affect property values in the area once construction starts (not to mention the whole "beep beep beep" thing that will take place whenever construction equipment backs up and whether we could hear it from the yard/pricate oasis of "our" house. Sigh. It's a hard, hard, hard decision and we are truly on the fence because no one can predict what will happen.

In other news, I have decided to put land surveyors in the same professional category as weather people. It's always made me laugh that meteorologists don't really have to be "right" in their jobs - it's enough to say 50% of rain which in turn means there is a 50% chance it won't rain which is pretty much not a prediction at all, right? Well, I actually read a survey report that said something similar to "the property line runs from the third spindle on a heather tree located...". (Actually, I can't remember if it was heather, but the comment has more credibility if I name the tree). Really? First of all, what the fuck is a "spindle"? Secondly, what if someone cuts down the tree?

Which begs the question...if someone cuts down a tree and no one is there does the property line disappear?

Keep your fingers crossed that we make the right decision and that I'm not writing, a year from now, about our money pit.

P.S. I'm making progress on my Reader...I only have 213 unread posts - that's about a 95% reduction so I promise I'll be back to commenting soon. Thanks for your patience in the meantime and for still visiting me despite my reciprocity!

P.P.S.S. A shout-out to Petite Flower (one of my first and favorite bloggers) for being the ONLY one to comment on the worm! Is no one else horrified by the Sci Fi Channel size of that creature?Again, the pictures didn't work out but I swear it was larger than this.

Things I Learned This Weekend

Hello my darlings! So sorry that it's been so long since I updated last - but things have been very, very busy at our little household. The kind of busy when you (1) actually run out of clean underwear and (2) your Google reader hovers around 4 figures every day. I've been unable to read and comment on a lot of my blogs, but I hope to catch up by the end of this week and get back to posting regularly myself. In the meantime, I'd like to give you a quick recap of our weekend through the lessons I learned:

• While Indian food does raise your tolerance for alcohol, you will still feel like ass the next day if you eat and drink too much.
• When it rains a lot, worms come out of the ground.
• There does exist worms large enough that you will mistake them for (1) a snake, (2) shoelace for a high top or (3) the large intestine of a small household pet.
• When you and your husband see a worm this large, it's likely that BOTH of you will scream.
• When the worms raises the top half of its body from the ground like it's hissing at you, you might pee in your pants a little.
• Flash photography does not work that will in the pitch dark when you are trying to photograph a worm.
• Wine does not help this endeavor.
• However, it does help to raise your husband's tolerance of icky/squishy things in that he will take the time to coax said freakishly large worm onto a stick and place it out of harm's way.
• There is a 99.9% chance that your male dog will pee on a location where it smells you.
• Like, say - in the area where you just saved a freakishly large worm's life.
• Worms and dog pee do not mix.
• Do not reheat and eat more Indian food after you had a large dinner because you will NOT feel like cleaning up the mess.
• Sleep late on Saturdays if possible to avoid festering Indian food in kitchen.
• Don't get your hopes up about a house that you fall in love with through pictures. Chances are it may look like cheap crap when you actually see the house.
• Do, however, follow your instincts and drive by a house that you previously feel in love with but had certain issues you were concerned about.
• Do approach the owner of the house, even if the house was withdrawn from the market, and tell him you love his house but are worried about (a), (b) and (c).
• He might be a really nice guy and explain that (a), (b) and (c) don't matter that much.
• Don't giggle when you husband writes a number on the back of his business card that you would be willing to pay for said house.
• You will not feel like eating after you make an offer on a house - nausea will reign supreme.
• Do squeal with delight when the owner's agent calls to tell you that the owner enjoyed meeting you very much and has accepted your offer.

We are "under contract" for a house y'all! It was a house that I had visited weeks ago and feel in love with and I'm even more in love now. We are planning on having inspections on Friday so keep your fingers crossed that everything works out.

Hell, I'll even bring the worm with us if he survived Murphy's onslaught of urine!

An Early Mothers' Day Tribute to My Mom (or Why I've Been Going to Professional Waxers Since the Young Age of 17)

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the night before "Senior Cut Day" at my high school - a randomly picked day in May when seniors ditched their classes to celebrate the freedom and spontaneity of youth. Some seniors, including myself, had our parents' knowledge and apathetic acquiescence since we were already accepted and headed to college the following autumn. My friends and I, known as "The Nine" (don't laugh - there were nine of us and our class wasn't very creative when it came to clique names...it's better than the Pink Ladies, right?) were headed early the next morning to Barnegat Light in Long Beach Island - a paradise along the Jersey Shore.

Ignorant to the fact that I would spend most of my day shivering on the beach a result of the fickle weather of early May, I was up in my room preparing for our day. I had decided to "groom the greens" if you will, and had purchased a waxing kit from our local Rite-Aid.

My parents were out at a cocktail party of some sort, and thankfully I had the house to myself. I glanced at the directions, heated up the concoction and proceeded to spread it all over my girly bits.

Everywhere.

Then, I did what no girl should do while waxing...I lounged while reading a magazine and drinking a Diet Pepsi while I let it dry. (Perhaps it would have been more productive if I read the instructions instead).

After I had perused all of the interesting parts of the current Glamour, I turned my attention to my Magic-Shelled-Nether-Regions. It quickly became apparent that I did not know what I was doing. How did this stuff come off? I grabbed the directions, scanning them for some sort of hint, and then I saw it - I was supposed to apply the cloth strip to the wax while it was still wet and then rip it off.

My breathing turned shallow as I fussed over the mess down under. I alternatively tugged and screamed in pain. I didn't know what to do!!!!! I grabbed the phone and dialed my parents' friends in a panic. When my mom got on the phone, I just started crying and explained through gasps of breath what I had done. I can only imagine the amused look that crossed my mother's face as she excused herself and my dad to head home and rescue me.

She made the same attempts and realized, rather quickly, that it was futile. (Yes, she was down there, doing that. If that's not a mother's love, you tell me what is!). My mom is a resourceful individual with thousands of numbers at her fingertips in a worn out brown phone book stuffed to the brim with handwritten notes. She flipped through the book, with me begging in the background to "Please don't tell anyone what happened" and quickly dialed the number of a friend that was a nurse. I could hear her side of the conversation as I lamented my fate in the bathroom: "No, it's dry. Yes, it's everywhere. I can't rip it off. I tried that. And that. Yes, and that. I'll tell her." She hung up the phone and turned to me, "Kay thinks we should head to the Emergency Room."

NOOOOOOOOOOO! I entered full meltdown mode (not to mention, seriously, how the hell was I supposed to wear shorts and sit in a car with a crusty lower half!).

She calmed me down and instead of dragging me to the local hospital, she called the Emergency Room for some guidance. After she hung up the phone, she turned to me and said, "They really think we should come in...but they suggested that we try one more thing first." I had a spark of hope as I watched her fill the bathtub with scalding hot water and head to her sewing kit to grab some shears.

"Um, what are you doing?" I innocently asked as graphic and bloody visions passed through my head. "We're going to soften the wax with hot water, and then I'll have to cut your hair to remove what's left."

Oh, of course.

I laid in that bathtub for over four hours as my mother kneeled next to me and worked on getting this mess off my body (as I recall, my father sat in the living room rereading the same Daily News over and over again in an effort to remain scarce). I begged for death every minute, whining that anything would be easier than the pain she was inflicting on me - I was, after all, the queen of all drama queens, a teenager.

And then, as it neared midnight she said those magic words, "There - we're done."

I looked down at my neatly trimmed-somewhat bald hoo-hoo and gave her a watery hug as the tears streamed down my face (see drama queen reference above). I couldn't believe it was over. I applied some aloe at her suggestion, dried myself off and let her do something she hadn't done in a while...tuck me into bed.

And then I went to the beach and froze my ass off.

Shortly after that, my mother introduced me to Diane, an esthetician that specialized in waxing, and insisted that I never try to self-wax again. "Leave it to professionals," she said. And I've done that for 23 years.

It's funny, when people take about the love of a mother, I can't help but recall this completely irreverent ode to my mother's love. I can clearly recall her calmness, her devotion, and her patience, not to mention he willingness to leave a perfectly good cocktail party.

And so I say, Happy Mothers' Day Mom - you could probably work at Bliss and I love you for it!

Monday, Monday - La, La, La, La, La**

Our little household is recovering from a fairly destructive and partially productive weekend. Friday night held a bit too much tequila in its hands. (My husband has not only come to love the Skinny Girl Margarita, he can now identify Bethenny on sight while I'm watching RHONYC.)

As a natural result of that, Saturday consisted of lots of naps and TV watching and puttering around the house.

Sunday was the productive day. Brunch at IHOP....

[Okay, a bit of a tangent here. Manbug and I were seated next to a
couple. We had a booth made for two. They had a booth made for four.
And they were seated on the same side of the booth. I have not seen such
extensive PDA since I accidentally clicked on a NSFW link which ended up
corrupting my computer. They would each take a bite of their food, chew a
little, AND THEN MAKE OUT. WITH FOOD IN THEIR MOUTHS. I was so
grossed out that we ended our breakfast much earlier than intended and headed
out the door before I threw up.

So tell me, do you ever sit on the same side of the booth as your
significant other?]

We then headed South to Manbug's office, picked up some paperwork, headed North to a property to check on some alleged hail damage (there was none) and then hit a mall to get one of Manbug's birthday gift (yes, his birthday is in October but this man has weird sized feet and finding a new pair of running shoes has proven quite difficult. Especially when the tryer-oner likens shopping to a prostate exam). Rounded up the evening with some meal planning and grocery shopping for me, a bike ride for Manbug, and tons of laundry folding for both.

And you know what I've decided....the weekend will probably be much more productive if I don't cram everything into one day. So that's the goal for next week.

[In addition to getting Manbug's present, I treated myself to a
new pair of Nikes (in pink!!!) I've decided that once I've made my
gym membership an asset, rather than a debit of our monthly payments, I'll treat
myself to the Ipod kit]. Stay tuned and let me know your thoughts if anyone has one!].

OH! One last thing - I'm not the only one that thinks Quizno's is creepy!


**Channelling The Mamas and The Papas